#sorry that was long winded and I am not trying to be mean here but we gotta remember this was not a fun arthouse project made by fandom

[sasheemo]

When we collide

Chapter 11

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Chapter Summary: Agatha sneaks into your house, and an already risky plan takes an unexpected, and even riskier, turn.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: I know this update took forever and I am so sorry, work and life in general have been crazy lately. Writing has been such a slow process, and finding the time to sit down and focus has been hella hard.

That said, I’m so grateful for your patience and support—it truly means the world to me. Every comment, like, and bit of encouragement keeps me motivated to push through, even when things feel overwhelming. I hope this chapter was worth the wait and that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed crafting it.

Thank you for sticking with me through this journey. Your love for this story keeps me going 💜

It feels like you’ve been hiding in the shadows of your garden for hours. You have no idea how much time has passed or how long Agatha has been inside.

Seconds stretch into minutes, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve been waiting an eternity.

The night grows colder and heavier with each passing second, the chill creeps through your dress, your eyes fixed on the darkened windows above. The faint glow of the kitchen light spills onto the ground, a subtle but constant reminder of your mother’s presence inside.

You clench your hands into fists at your sides, trying to still the growing unease coiling in your chest. The plan had seemed straightforward at the time: get Agatha inside, have her pretend to be you, and wait for her to open the window. But now, as you stand in the biting cold, the enormity of the risks begins to gnaw at you.

Agatha doesn’t know your mother. Not the way you do. 

She doesn’t know the sharp edge to her voice, the way her words cut deeper than her glares. She doesn’t know the little tells, the moments when her mood shifts and it’s better to stay quiet than risk provoking her. And most importantly, Agatha doesn’t know the intricate, tense dance you’ve perfected over years of enduring her.

The weight of it all suddenly feels crushing. You shift uneasily, your breathing shallow as your thoughts spiral. What if your mother notices something’s off? What if Agatha hesitates or says the wrong thing? What if she tries to talk her way out of something and slips up? 

You bite down on your lip, forcing yourself to breathe slower, deeper. But the thoughts don’t stop. 

What if your mother catches her before she even reaches your room? What if she figures out the truth? What would she do - to Agatha, to you - if she realized the extent of this betrayal? Your mind conjures up a dozen worst-case scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last.

A sharp gust of wind pulls you from your spiraling thoughts, and you glance down instinctively at the small bundle of fur near your feet. The rabbit, Agatha’s rabbit, sits quietly in the shadows beside you, its nose twitching as it sniffs the night air. Its presence is steady, calm, almost indifferent to the storm raging in your head.

You crouch down slightly, your fingers brushing against the creature’s soft fur. It doesn’t flinch, simply shifts closer as if it senses your unease. There’s something grounding about the animal, something simple and reassuring. Agatha had brought it here with her, and for some reason, the thought that something she clearly cares for is by your side soothes the sharp edges of your panic.

You take another breath, steadier this time. The faint glow from the kitchen is still there, unchanging, and the stillness of the house seems both unnerving and hopeful. 

She’s inside. She’ll make it.

And then, finally, you hear the faint creak of the window above. 

Your head snaps up, your pulse quickening as you watch it ease open. Your own face peers out from the shadowed wooden frame, tense and searching the garden below. It takes you a second to remember that it’s actually Agatha.

The sight pulls at something strange in your chest. You know the spell you cast has served its purpose, that she’s safe now. That realization settles over you like a wave, and you exhale slowly, steadying yourself.

Closing your eyes, you draw on the lingering energy of the spell, your magic buzzing faintly under your skin. You picture her, not as a reflection of yourself, but as she truly is: darker, undeniably powerful, magnetic. With a flick of your wrist and a soft breath, you send the magic out, releasing it.

When you open your eyes, the figure leaning out of the window has changed. Her true form has returned: wild, dark hair framing her face, sharp cheekbones catching the faintest glow of the night.

Agatha’s gaze catches yours, steady and knowing, as if she’s fully aware of what you’ve just done. She tilts her head slightly in acknowledgment, a silent signal to come up. 

The tension in your chest doesn’t fully ease, but you let yourself glance at the towering tree at the center of the garden, its ancient branches stretching out in every direction like a great, unmoving sentinel. The bark is thick and weathered, furrowed with deep grooves that speak of countless seasons endured. 

Its lowest branches bow slightly under their own weight, but higher up, the limbs grow stronger, sprawling outward with a defiant strength. One of its largest branches curves close to your window, not enough to block the view from your room but near enough to serve as your path inside.

The tree has always been there, a quiet companion through your childhood. Back then, its lower limbs had felt like a sanctuary, their rough surfaces welcoming and steady beneath your hands. You’d scramble up effortlessly, laughing as you dangled your legs and let the world blur into your own imagined wilderness. 

But tonight, the tree looms above you, its branches no longer inviting but daunting, like a puzzle demanding perfect precision. Your gaze fixes on the thick branch that leads toward your window, and doubt creeps in uninvited.

You exhale, trying to calm the knot of nerves twisting in your stomach. The branches look sturdy, thicker than they seemed when you were younger, but you know they’ll need to hold more than they ever have before.

You step closer to the tree as you prepare to hoist yourself up. But as you look upward, plotting your path, reality snaps into focus. 

One of your hands is clutching the rabbit, its small body shifting slightly against your palm, leaving the other useless for climbing. Both hands will be needed to grip the bark and the branches, to steady yourself as you ascend.

You can’t climb like this.

Your jaw tightens as you glance down at the animal, then over your shoulder at the satchel pulling against your back. The weight of both feels suddenly oppressive, a barrier between you and the safety of the window above.

Your breath is clouding in the cold air as you glance up at the towering tree again. For a moment, you stand frozen, your mind racing for a solution.

Then, an idea comes to you. Maybe it’s reckless, maybe it’s not perfect, but it’s all you’ve got, and it’ll have to do.

Kneeling carefully, you place the rabbit gently on the ground beneath the tree. 

“Stay.” you whisper softly, as the small creature sniffs the grass, its twitching nose brushing against a fallen leaf. You shrug the satchel off your back, unfastening the flap with fingers that tremble slightly from the cold.

You glance down at the contents of the bag and let out a soft sigh of relief. Agatha, it seems, is a light packer. There’s enough space, you think, and without hesitation, you scoop up the rabbit again, cradling its small body close for a moment. 

“Alright, you’re going in.” you whisper, angling the bag carefully to create a safe, snug space.

The rabbit shifts, its ears flicking in mild protest, but it doesn’t wriggle too much as you tuck it in among the folds of Agatha’s clothing. You adjust the fabric gently, making sure it’s secure, and offer a quiet, almost reassuring murmur. “See? Not so bad.”

You hope the familiar scent will keep it calm during the climb. For a moment, the faint smell reaches you as well - earthy yet sweet, rich and layered - and it stops you in your tracks. The briefest flicker of distraction pulls at you before you shake it off, focusing on closing the satchel and readying yourself for the climb.

You glance up at the window to check for any sign from Agatha, but what you see halts you. She’s leaning out of the darkened window, her features clear despite the shadows, and her expression… well, if looks could kill, you’d be flat on the ground.

Her glare is direct and unmistakable, her lips pressed into a thin, irritated line. It doesn’t take much to realize why. 

She’s staring straight at the satchel slung over your shoulder and the rabbit inside it. You’re frozen, caught mid-motion, her piercing gaze making you feel oddly small, like a child caught red-handed. Your irritation flares before you can stop it, the sharp edge of it cutting through your nerves. 

‘What exactly does she expect me to do?’ you think, sarcasm practically spilling over. ‘Carry it in my teeth?!’

You bite back a laugh at your own thoughts, the absurdity of the situation tugging at the corners of your mouth. You glance away from the window, shaking your head with a mix of annoyance and amusement. 

“As if she’d have a better idea.” you mutter quietly to yourself, the words more a release of tension than anything else.

The bark digs into your palms as you grip the trunk, pulling yourself up onto the first branch. It creaks faintly under your weight, but it holds, as it always has. Your breath comes slow and deliberate, each movement measured as you reach for the next handhold.

Even so, the awareness of Agatha’s eyes on you gnaws at the edge of your focus. Her gaze feels like a weight on your back, amplifying every misstep and every slight tremble in your limbs. The idea of her judging your clumsy climb, silently critiquing each slip of your footing, sends another wave of irritation coursing through you.

And yet… there’s something oddly reassuring about it too. As if her presence, no matter how frustrating, guarantees that someone will catch you if you fall. Not literally, of course, but the thought lingers, steadying you more than you’d care to admit.

You shift your weight carefully, reaching for the next branch. The satchel presses against your back, its weight a constant reminder of your responsibility, and of the sharp eyes above you. You resist the urge to glance up briefly, focusing instead on the climb.

You move cautiously, gripping the bark tightly as you climb higher. The tree groans faintly under your weight, and you freeze, holding your breath. 

The sound seems impossibly loud in the stillness of the night, a sharp contrast to the quiet hum of crickets and the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. For a moment, you glance toward the kitchen window, half-expecting to see your mother’s silhouette appear, but the glow remains steady, undisturbed.

You grit your teeth, focusing on your balance, careful to distribute your weight evenly. Every move feels agonizingly slow, the need for silence making each step a deliberate act of precision.

As you near the branch that curves toward your window, you reach out with one hand, your fingers brushing the rough bark. It’s close, close enough that you can almost imagine the feel of the window frame beneath your palm. 

But as you shift your weight to make the final stretch, your foot slips against the trunk, the bark giving way beneath your boot.

Your stomach lurches as your balance wavers, your free hand scrabbling desperately for a hold. The satchel shifts sharply, throwing you further off balance, and for a terrifying moment, you’re certain you’ll fall. Your breath catches in your throat, panic blooming in your chest.

From her vantage point at the window, Agatha tenses instantly. Her eyes widen, and for a split second, she shifts forward slightly in a reflexive, almost involuntary motion, as if she could somehow close the unbridgeable distance and reach you. Concern flickers across her face as her hands grip the windowsill tightly, knuckles paling with the pressure.

But then your hand finds purchase, gripping a knot in the bark just in time to steady yourself. 

You hang there for a moment, your heart pounding in your ears, your body frozen as the satchel settles back into place. The rabbit stirs faintly inside, and you murmur a soft reassurance under your breath, though it’s as much for yourself as for the animal.

The faint creak of the tree subsides, and the night seems to hold its breath along with you. You force yourself to exhale slowly, the tension in your chest loosening as you steady your footing once more. Carefully, you reach out again, this time gripping the branch firmly before pulling yourself up onto it.

The window is finally within reach, a threshold to safety. 

As you glance up, Agatha is there, her figure sharp and still against the faint shadows of the room. She’s waiting, her presence a silent promise that the plan is almost complete. The sight steadies you and, for the first time since the climb began, relief flickers at the edges of your thoughts, fragile but real.

As you near the window, Agatha leans out further, her gaze flicking to the satchel slung over your shoulder. She lifts a hand, gesturing for it with a slight wave of her fingers, her expression calm and maddeningly smug.

You pause, blinking at her. 

“Really?” you mutter under your breath, incredulity practically dripping from your tone. 

She tilts her head slightly, arching a single brow, her smugness somehow amplifying as she gestures again, clearly waiting.

For a moment, you consider ignoring her, but then you glance at the satchel. She has a point, giving her the bag would mean the rabbit is safer, and, without the extra weight on your back, you’ll have an easier time pulling yourself through the window.

With a dramatic sigh, you shrug the satchel off your shoulder, the strap sliding down your arm before you lift it toward her. She stretches downward, her fingers brushing the edge of the leather before she grips it firmly and pulls it from your grasp. 

For a moment, you watch her, half expecting her to disappear entirely now that the bag is secure in her hands.

And that’s exactly what she does. Agatha retreats, vanishing from the window’s edge with the satchel in tow. You roll your eyes, your mind instantly jumping to the conclusion that she’s probably fussing over the rabbit. 

The thought irritates and amuses you in equal measure, but you shake your head and steady yourself for the final push. 

The ledge is close, and with the satchel gone, the climb feels marginally easier. You stretch your arms upward, gripping the edge of the window frame as you shift your weight onto the thick branch beneath you. 

Carefully, you pull yourself higher, your knees brushing the frame as you begin to hoist yourself inside.

For a moment, it seems like you’ve done it. Your body halfway through the window, balance steady enough to keep going.

And then your foot catches on the edge of the frame.

The jolt sends you stumbling forward, your grip slipping as the momentum drags you into a clumsy, uncontrolled tumble.

Agatha moves instantly, appearing as if out of nowhere, her reflexes instinctive and precise.

You barely register the sudden shift before her silhouette is in front of you. One of her hands darts out, gripping your arm with surprising strength, but it’s not enough to counter the force of your fall. Her other hand slides to your waist, firm and steady, trying to catch you, but the momentum is too much.

There’s no time for either of you to adjust. The pull of gravity drags you forward, and you both tumble into the room in a chaotic, ungraceful heap. The impact knocks the breath from your lungs, and you land tangled together. 

Agatha is half-sprawled over you, her weight pinning you to the floor, grounding and overwhelming all at once. The world seems to fade, narrowing to the soft rustle of leaves in the night and the rhythm of her breathing. 

Her face is unbearably close, so close that her breath brushes against your cheek, warm and uneven. Untamed hair spilling over her shoulder and grazing your arm, strands scattered haphazardly from the fall.

There’s a stillness to her expression, but the faint parting of her lips reveals a hitch in her breathing, as though the shock of the tumble hasn’t fully left her.

Both of her hands remain where they caught you, one curled tightly around your arm, the other pressed firmly against your waist. The heat of her touch burns through the fabric of your dress, rooting you in place even as your pulse races wildly.

Those sharp blue eyes, piercing even in the dim light, are locked on yours. The intensity of her gaze makes your breath catch, as if she’s not only seeing through you but searching for something at the same time.

For a moment, nothing else exists. Your chest tightens and your pulse hammers in your ears as the space between you feels impossibly thin, a fragile thread stretched taut and trembling. 

And then, fleetingly - so quickly you almost think you imagined it - her gaze drops, flickering to your lips. The motion is so subtle, so brief, that it vanishes almost as soon as it happens. But the imprint of it remains, sharp and electric, making you shudder.

Your mind scrambles for something, anything, to say, but the words won’t come. All you can do is stare back at her, your chest rising and falling as you struggle to make sense of the moment.

The silence stretches, thick and almost suffocating, until Agatha breaks it. Her voice is low, threaded with dry amusement but carrying an almost daring undertone that sets your nerves alight. 

“Are you always this dramatic,” she murmurs, “or am I just special?”

The words pull you out of your daze, and your cheeks burn instantly, the heat rushing to your face. 

“I— I didn’t—” you stammer, scrambling to find words, but every coherent thought scatters.

Agatha exhales sharply, her lips twitching as if she’s about to say something else, but instead, she pushes herself up abruptly. 

The cool night air rushes in as her warmth leaves, and you’re left on the floor, heart still pounding in your ears.

She brushes off her skirts with deliberate ease, her expression once again smug and composed, though there’s a flicker of tension in her movements. She extends a hand to you, her sharp gaze watching you carefully.

“Come on, get up.” she whispers, her tone calm but firm. “Your mother might have heard that.”

You glare up at her, your pride stinging, but you take her hand anyway, letting her pull you to your feet. Her grip is firm, steady, and as she helps you up, her fingers linger just a second too long before she steps back.

The sensation is fleeting but familiar, a ghost of what had happened only hours earlier by the lake. She’d done the same after you healed her burns, offering her hand with that same deliberate calm, as though her touch carried no weight. But it had lingered then too, just like now, and the memory ignites a warm spark in your chest. 

As you rise to your feet, your balance feels oddly unsteady, not from the fall but from the moment itself. You linger there, caught between embarrassment and something heavier. Your fingers twitch at your sides, as though still feeling the echo of her grip, and your gaze follows her as she moves away.

She crosses the room, moving toward the satchel she’d placed on the floor earlier and crouching down. 

You turn toward the window, reaching for the frame to shut it. The cool night air still drifts into the room, carrying the faint scent of the garden below. Your fingers curl around the wood, and just as you push it closed, a sound freezes you in place.

A creak. Faint, but unmistakable.

Your heart stops, and you glance at Agatha, who has gone still beside the satchel, her hand hovering over the flap. Her sharp eyes meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you breathes.

Another creak follows, heavier this time, accompanied by the low groan of the wooden stairs shifting.

Panic flashes between you in a silent exchange, the weight of the moment sinking in with brutal clarity. Agatha straightens slowly, her hand dropping from the satchel as her gaze darts toward the door.

Well, shit. Your mother definitely heard.

[melonteee]

I'm really enjoying the live-action show. It's different, but I think some changes are improvements, some changes are neutral, and some changes are for the worse. Overall, I'd say it's about as good of an adaptation as the East Blue anime is (factoring in the changes the anime made).

Syrup Village is a great example, they cut Jango (though you do see his Bounty poster, so he still exists in canon), but they also made Kaya's illness be the result of Butchie poisoning her and part of Kuro's plan. Luffy drinks the poison soup and that replaces the scene of him unconscious from hypnosis. Zoro has to climb out of a well, and that replaces him climbing up an oil-covered hill and also sets up for Mihawk saying he's a frog in a well. They also change the setting for the battle from a beach to inside the mansion, introducing a horror theme to the story which rachets up the tension a lot more. Sham is also gender-bent and super cute.

And it's not wrong to say the showrunners understand and love the characters and the world. All of the bottles of alcohol are brands in One Piece, the barrel Luffy gets into has the name of the fishmonger from his village, Garp mentions that he's turned down multiple promotions, Nami reads Noland the Liar to Zoro while he's unconscious after his fight with Mihawk, Arlong introduces Fishman discrimination.

I think it's best experienced from the perspective of "it's going to be different, and that's okay". The characters are written a little differently, but not in a bad way. They still feel like the characters at their core, Inaki's Luffy and Taz's Sanji are two stand-outs, they're fantastic.

I understand if it's just not for you, and you did watch one episode, so I can't say you didn't give it a chance at all. I just feel like you and the others are being too harsh on it. It's way better than any other live-action anime adaptation I've ever seen.

I appreciate this anon and I do think the poison change works, but there's certainly a 1 good thing for 9 bad things ratio going on. Because in all fairness, I am going to be extremely critical of a 20 year old series that's making an adaptation with a 17 million dollar budget per episode - especially from Netflix. If I'm being approached by friends who were actually excited for this series and they came out of it disappointed, somehow I don't think I'm gonna have a good time myself. I'm watching One Piece for One Piece, I don't think I should go into an adaptation thinking this is gonna be different in STORY and CHARACTER. I can accept changes for medium, of course, but there are so many absolutely bizarre changes that literally do nothing. You don't go from the manga to the anime and think "Well if I just disconnect these characters from their original selves, I can soak this in fine" because in all honesty, that probably means it's a bad adaptation if you need to work to see what you want to see.

Also the 'frog in the well' thing is exactly my point of this script just slamming you in the face with what it's trying to do, we are not meant to take that literally. The well is the east blue that Zoro lives in, not a literal well lmao. It's a nice cheeky idea to have, but the goofiness of Zoro's character is removed from the scene where he's trying to run up a greased hill like an idiot. Because yes, even THAT scene served a purpose for Zoro's character and how we view him. It's definitely subjective to say the characters are written differently but not in a bad way, because ripping away parts of a character to leave them as this Frankenstein version of themselves is personally not something I want? Why would I WANT all the goofiness and stupidness taken out of Zoro? It might be good for some, but it just feels like a total downgrade and misunderstanding of his character to me. Same goes for Sanji just being this artsy guy who's complaining cause he can't make the dishes he wants, with his over dramatic, angry, violent flare completely gone. Those changes being good or bad are completely up to you, but I am personally just made to see a hollowed out, dumbed down version of them because I liked these characters as I originally met them and that's what made them stand out.

I appreciate the time they put into the sets, I do think the visual world was made well (although it could've used a bit more style), but the little physical details mean absolutely nothing if I can't even FEEL the magic the original gave me. A set does not make a series, 1000 strawhats will not make me see Luffy unless he is written to be Luffy, and that's the problem. I don't want to watch an adaptation that removes the most emotional and impactful moments of my favourite character just to replace it with a fight or to focus on ANOTHER character they've deemed more important. I am going to be critical because these characters mean a lot to me, and I am expecting to feel from an adaptation what I felt from the original with such characters. An adaptation does not mean making things different just for differences sake. I am glad you enjoyed it anon, as many people have, but if I'm watching something that's literally called One Piece and have been told this is an adaptation of One Piece - with the producers even saying they want to put the manga on the screen, mind you - I am going to go in there expecting One Piece, from the characters to the story. I shouldn't have to do the work in my own head and go "Well, they did their best!", especially at a million dollar Netflix production...sigh

[cherry-leclerc]

we never talk about it ☆ op81

genre: humor, angst, yearning, massive crushes, and lots and lots of miscommunication, assistant!reader

word count: 11k

It's unwise—longing for someone like Oscar. While he's the epitome of someone anyone can easily fall in love with, you're the epitome of a devoted girl who will fall in love with him. You might not even care too much about all the heartbreak you endure along the way.

inspired by this !

cherry here!... based on real events.

Do you remember the day we first met?

The wind doesn’t do its job in blocking him out, the way you prayed and wished it would. You’re still able to catch the crack in his voice—a distant reminder of the way it once made you giggle. Even his nose is beet red, matching the Christmas lights. But apart from all that, you still hear him. You still see him. 

You always have.

“A little bit. Yeah.”

He flinches, then tries to play it off with a soft smile. Like he doesn’t want you to uncover the slight hurt he feels. But he can’t read your mind. He never could. And that was the problem.

Oscar nods, feigning indifference. “I do. Remember it all, I mean.  Think back to it quite often."

-

It’s utterly useless to try and ignore him, really.

His hair is too fluffy, his eyes are too bright, and his accent is making you want to flaunt the way some loony character would with a hand over their heart. It was honestly a tad bit demeaning.

But you can't help it. You admire the way his brown locks fall in a lousy manner when he towers down to sign the contract. You blush when his eyes get that twinkle in them. And you swoon over almost anything he says with a shy smile.

“You’re drooling.”

Mortified, you briskly run the back of your hand against your mouth before sending a harsh glare. Lando snickers. “Would you please stop?”

His jaw drops, theatrically. “You’re not actually into him—are you?”

He says it with a trace of humor, but also shock, and you can't help but have your mouth run dry. A loose grin starts to expand across his lips as you hurriedly shake your head. “O-of course not. Are you crazy?”

But if anything, you feel crazy. You must be, right? With every passing second of your heart beating faster and faster against your chest simply just by looking at the young Australian, you’re sure you fall straight into the category like some love fool.

Lando squints his eyes. “I don’t know.” He leans in straight into your face, nearly hissing. “Am I?”

“Am I interrupting?” 

Flinching hard, you turn quickly to face Anastasia. You’d initially met the black haired girl back in 2019. As you started off as the Brits personal assistant, she took over as Carlos’ and later also Daniel’s. Over the course of time, you two came to be as close as sisters. 

“No! Not at all,” you squeak, nervously before pushing the McLaren driver away and patting towards the open chair next to you. She giggles, rolling her eyes and adjusting herself. “How was the flight over?”

A shrug. “As good as it can get. Sat next to a silver fox, so I guess that must count for something, no?” Lando shudders. She leans in closer, plopping her head against your shoulder. “What’d I miss?”

“Not much.” Only, that’s not true. She missed the way he laughed awkwardly when the doors wouldn’t slide open and let him into the headquarters. She missed the way he rolled his R’s a little too hard when saying ‘sorry’. She missed the way he grabbed the pen with a certain glow on his face, like he almost couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Lazy fingers pat her head gently once before sighing. “He seems nice.”

“How do you know?”

You know because of the way he talks to everyone. Like he cares about what they have to say. Whether it’s about how great his career is going to be here in McLaren or if they introduce their kids to him via FaceTime. He always wore the same smile, talked in the same warm tone. So, could your guess be far off? Yes. It could be completely far off. But you would bet money that it wasn’t. 

“Just a wild hypothesis.”

Her laugh isn’t too loud, not ridiculously so, at least, but the fact that it echoes is what makes it appear as such. Anastasia is quick to slap her hand over her mouth, the Brit turns fast to face her with panic evident in his eyes, and you simply blink with a shade of red slowly creeping towards your cheekbones. 

Zak grins. “You three.”

“Oh, we’re out,” Lando mumbles in monotone, already grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the exit. You follow numbly, like you don’t have any strength left in your body. 

“You’re leaving me?” Anastasia hisses.

“She’s my assistant,” he says like a matter-of-fact. “Where I go, she goes.”

“Oh, you Judas—”

“All of you,” Zak clarifies, narrowing his eyes over to you and the Brit. You gulp.

With a soft curse, Anastasia stands up, tall and firm, and makes her way over with all the confidence in the world. You frown, craving to be the same way, even just a small percentage. Instead, you have to be forced by the McLaren driver. 

With every step, your head just spins faster because now, he’s more than real. You can smell his cologne. You can count all the moles that cover his face if you really wanted to. You can spot how his hair is still a bit wet, indicating an early shower. 

He’s just becoming— too real. 

“Lando, buddy, meet your new teammate!”

“Nice to meet you,” the blue eyed boy declares with a loopy grin, letting go of your hand in order to shake his. 

“Likewise.”

Zak claps once. “Oh! And meet your personal assistant, Anastasia.”

“Here for anything you might need,” she cheers with a bright smile.

“Fantastic.”

A wave of silence overlaps your four before Lando clears his throat. “And even though you might not be working with her one-on-one, this is my Anastasia.” A snicker. “My assistant, if you will.”

“Nice to meet you—”

“Nice to meet you—”

You both freeze, hands intertwined for a second longer before abruptly letting go. He lets out a dry laugh while you do the same. The way your skin tingles makes you blush. 

“This is fun and all, but we actually have somewhere to be,” the Brit claims with a suspicious look slashed across his usual laid back expression. You nod. “But we’ll see each other soon, man. Can’t wait to race together!”

In a flash, you two are out the door, leaving a dumbfounded Oscar blinking slowly.

-

“He fucks with you.”

“Excuse me?”

Another bench press. “As in, he likes you. He’s into you.”

You don’t dare ask who he is because you already know who the Brit’s referring to and that would only inflate your ego. Snapping your fingers, you narrow your eyes. “Focus. Two more sets left to go.” He groans, flipping you off.

It would be a lie to say that this didn’t make your self-esteem skyrocket. Could he be right? Could someone like Oscar ever lay eyes on you? Somewhere in your dreams, you’d like to say yes. Yes. That is a possibility. But the longer you think about it, the more unrealistic it gets.

You don’t have what others do. And that itself is enough to pop the bubble. 

-

The start of the season is always tough. 

“He’s extremely nervous.”

For some more than others.

You frown. “Really? But he’s usually so…relaxed.”

Anastasia shrugs, hair falling over her shoulder as she continues typing. “I mean, I tried talking to him but with everything I said, he’d just reply—'that's nice’. It was sarcastic, if anything. I would have laughed if I didn’t feel for him. Poor boy.” Her fingers freeze mid-air. “Wait—do you think you could talk to him?”

“I’m not sure that’s a great idea—”

“Come on! Maybe it’ll help him ease his nerves!”

“Ana—”

“Please.”

You huff. “Okay. Fine. Yeah. I’ll see what I can do.”

As soon as you knock, you almost want to turn away. Maybe it was all an exaggeration. Plus, it’s not like he’s going to die from having butterflies in his stomach. Yeah, surely he’ll be fine and he doesn’t really even need you to—

“Come in.”

He wasn't expecting you, that much you can tell by the way his brows go up. But he’s quick to erase the confusion, settling with a fond expression. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you squeak before cringing at the sound. He chuckles, returning to his warm-up exercises. “How are you feeling?”

Another chuckle, this time amused. “Anastasia sent you, didn’t she?”

“What?” A beat. “No.”

He hums. “Tsk. I’m a bit nervous, that's all.”

You lick your lips, kicking your foot up against the doorframe. What could you possibly say that she hasn’t already? If she couldn’t ease him, then how can you? The thought of messing up and making it worse makes your stomach churn. 

“You’re going to do g—”

“Great?” He sighs, blowing his cheeks. “That’s exactly what she said.”

“And what’s wrong with it? She’s only trying to help.”

“No. I know she is, but…” He looks down onto his lap, pausing all movements. “Look, I appreciate you both. What you’re trying to do for me, but I can’t stand hearing what others think I want to hear.”

“It doesn’t do it for you?”

His eyes grow slightly wide with the way you go about and ask. He’s never seen you be anything other than sweet and reserved. But this—right now—is stern and very coach-like. Something and someone you aren’t. Not even close.

“It doesn’t,” he admits, finally looking away. “Never liked it. Always sounds too forced.”

You nod, crossing your arms. “Fine. I can tell you the truth. I can be truthful.” He perks. “Oscar, you’re a terrific driver.” He groans, covering his face with his hands. “But just because you’re great doesn’t mean you’ll be great all the time.” The Australian frowns, uncovering and looking up at you with attentive eyes. “You’re going to mess up. You’re going to be second, or third, or sometimes even twentieth, but that doesn’t matter, you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you signed that contract, so you sort of have to suck it up, either way.” He lets out a loud laugh. Very unlike him. A weak smile threatens to fall as you try your best to push it back. “There’s going to be bad races, but there’s also going to be very good races. It all depends on you and how hard you work. Sometimes you’ll have a good car, a good strat, and others you’ll have a shitbox and a bad strat. That’s just the way this sport works, okay?”

Oscar blinks slowly, as if trying to decipher who you are, and that itself makes you dizzy. “I-I-I don’t care if you’re nervous, I don’t care if you’re sure—all we care is that you drive that car, and that you try your best no matter what. Can you do that?”

It��s foreign. The feeling in his chest. He’s not used to hearing any of this. As of recently, everyones been texting him to say how great he’s going to be. How far he’ll go. And while he was grateful for having unconditional support, he also dreaded hearing it sometimes because he doesn’t even want to picture letting any of  them down. He’ll act like he’s fine, he’ll act like he doesn’t care—but none of that would be true.

The brunette tilts his head to the side, slightly squinting. “I can. I can always try my best. Even if I fall short.”

“Good.” A beat. “We all believe in you. No matter what, okay?”

A timid smile. “I know…”

He ends up having to retire the car by lap fifteen, but the most astonishing part is that he’s not even upset. He tried his best. He listened to every single advice his engineer would alert him with. He practiced long hours in the stimulator.

This is just the way things go sometimes. Just like you said.

-

“I’m bored. Can I get a ten minute break or something?” Lando grimaces, rolling his wrist like it's the worst pain in the world. 

You hum, fixing the signed hats back into the box. With eyes screwed, you shrug. “Fine. But only ten! I’m serious. We need to have this done by one.”

“Yes! Ten—got it.”

He doesn’t come back in ten. For the matter, he actually goes missing. 

You narrow your eyes towards the clock, watching as it clicks like some mockery. You’re going to strangle him. You vow at that very moment that you’ll strangle the Brit as soon as you lay hands on him. With one final huff of desperation, you stand up, rubbing your eyes. People frolic through the paddock—you’re sure you even catch a glimpse of Lewis being papped—but that’s not what catches all of your attention. 

Instead, you find yourself leaning against the rail, squinting down to where the man of the hour sits, microphones huddled all around him like some interrogation. Anastasia smiles politely, back straight, and voice-recorder in hand. 

It’s faint—you almost can’t hear a thing—but it’s just enough. 

How does it feel to be back home? Enjoying it, no?

Oscar hums, straight brows slightly furrowed due to the bright sun, but just one adjustment of his hat makes that all go away. “Feels good. I’m able to sleep in my own bed, so that’s pretty cool. And yes. It may be a bit biased, but I am enjoying my time here more than the last two races.” Everyone chuckles. 

Can we talk about your expectations for this weekend? 

You can see him pause, and from where you’re standing, the way his fingers drum against his chair. “Well, I, uh…I hope for a good car.” The joke is supposed to be there, but you can tell everyone was expecting more with the way they murmur to one another. You wince.

Will raises the microphone up to his lips, along with his hand in order to catch the brunette’s attention. “I’m sure there’s been lots of people reaching out to you since this is your first home race, but has there been someone’s advice that has stuck like no other?”

Oscar smiles gently. “There has been, actually.”

You freeze, gripping the steel bar with anticipation. Your knuckles nearly feel like they’re about to snap, and you feel like you’re probably leaning a bit too far over the edge to hear it all, but you don’t even care. Will chuckles. “If it’s not too much to ask, would you mind sharing with us all? I’m sure it’ll help a lot of youngsters watching.”

Anastasia slides the recorder closer. Oscar visibly swallows. “I’m not sure I can. I never asked her for permission to talk about it. And quite frankly, I’d like to keep it between us.”

Will perks up. “Her?”

The black-haired girl is quick to whisper into his ear, turning the opposite way so no one can even attempt to read her lips. He nods, eyes trained forward like some guard. “Any more questions?” But everyone’s intrigued at this point, so all the questions that follow remain the same. Something that makes Anastasia panic and Oscar regret his choice of words. 

“Can we get a name?” some blurts out, nearly seeming desperate to get the inside scoop.

Only, his face remains still, jaw slacked. “No.”

Will raises his hand. “Very well, we don’t have any right to know, but are you willing to share a bit about what she said?”

And it’s almost as if the Australian can foresee that the only way to get out of this situation is by giving them what they want. Even if it’s a stupid little crumb. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “She told me to try my best. That’s all I can really do.”

The mix of photographers and journalists deflate. “I-I’m sorry,” Lawrence Barretto slides in with a light tone and an ever lighter smile. “Don’t mean to lessen its meaning, but isn’t that a common thing to say? To hear?” An awkward laugh. “I mean, I just thought it’d be something a bit more…deep. Inspiring, perhaps.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks and you’re grateful to whatever God may exist that you’re not down there. On the other hand, Oscar is a bit bothered by the innocent comment, but then realizes he doesn't have to be. They weren’t there. They don’t know just how much more you said. How upfront you were with him without sounding condescending. Something most people did without even realizing. 

The brown eyed boy spares a smile. “Like I said—some things I’d like to keep between her and I. And even if it was just that, it’s the way she said it.” A beat. “It’s quite a lavish thing to have. A sincere person to talk to, I mean.”

Will tilts his head suspiciously. “It appears she might be someone special to you, yes?”

The Australian freezes at the unwanted interpretation. Suddenly, the atmosphere is far too crowded. He lets out a forced chuckle, rolling his neck before messaging it gently. “Well, yes. I’d agree.” 

A mix of giddiness and shock rushes through your veins as you refrain yourself from jumping up and down with excitement. 

“You’d be lucky if you had her as a friend too.”

-

“Is everything okay?”

Biting down on the churro he had gifted you as an apology for not getting back on time, you growl. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Lando raises a thick brow. “Dunno. Maybe the fact that you’re moping.”

Your jaw goes slack, immediately turning to face him. “I am not moping.”

The sound he lets out indicates he doesn’t quite believe you, but is choosing to let it go. Also, he doesn’t want to see your patience run out, too scared of what you might do. The curly haired driver plops down onto his bed that stands in his motorhome, closing his eyes. You nearly envy the indifference in him. The lack of worry. 

“I can hear your teeth clenching. Gross.”

A grunt. “I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Need anything?”

“Only a nap. It’s a good thing you’ll be gone.” He turns over to his side, bringing your jacket over his face to block out any light. You bite the air, swinging silently for a minute or two before exiting the cramped room. 

The sun hurts, you remember thinking, but the upcoming migraine you’re getting is even worse. You should be used to this by now, given you’ve suffered from them since elementary, but based on the way you zig zag without meaning to is enough proof to know that you’re not. Everyone's voices are suddenly muffled, even the sound of engines roaring is as soft as a feather. You wince, massaging your temples as if that might help. 

Woah, are you feeling alright? 

“I’m fine,” you respond meekly, to who even knows. You wave them off rudely. “I’ll be fine. Just. Leave me alone.” 

Anastasia frowns, all while fanning your face. “No. You need to lay down.” She nudges the Australian, who up until now, you had no clue he had his arm clung around your waist. If you weren’t too busy feeling like shit, you’d definitely be making a fool out of yourself. Her green eyes fill up with worry. “I’m gonna go look for a paramedic.”

“You’re doing too much,” you slur, body letting loose and making the brunette shriek as he grips you harder, trying to keep you upright. 

A deadpan expression. “Oscar, take her back to your motorhome and have her lay down.”

He nods, hesitantly. “Y-yeah, okay. Okay.” Once she runs off like a headless chicken, you let out a dramatic gag. Sharp brows knit together with horror. “Do I smell bad?”

A giggle. “No. As a matter of fact, you smell rich.”

With his arm still wrapped around you securely, and warm eyes flickering from to you back to see where he’s heading, he grins, eyes crinkling. “Rich? That just so happens to have a scent?”

You purse your lips, wincing at the fact that your peripheral vision has gone completely dark. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I’m a terrific liar and I’m only stroking your ego for my benefit.”

Another chuckle. “Benefit? What benefit may that be?”

Tsk. “How else am I gonna get you to take me to bed?”

The Australian instantly chokes hard on a string of his own saliva, causing you to flinch at the loud sound. Loud to you, at least. He apologizes, but not before taking a glance down, like it’s the first time meeting you. 

As soon as you lay down on the miniature mattress, you release a groan. Even just having your eyes closed makes you dizzy. You let out a loud groan, kicking your feet against the cushion in desperation.

“That bad?”

“That annoying.”

And even though you can’t see him, he nods, internally freaking out, trying to think of ways to help. “Does this happen to you often?”

“Yes.”

He nods, sheepishly. “W-what do you normally do? You know? To help?”

Tossing over to lay on your side, you pinch your eyes, grinding your molars. For a minute, you sort of thought your teeth might crack. Everything about this situation was becoming unbearable. “My mom, she, um…she’d normally braid my hair. It helped sometimes. Others it didn’t.” Messy hair dangles over your face as you let you out a loud exhale, as if you were in the middle of releasing some demon. “I moved too much, she said.”

Oscar smiles, coming across like a faint memory locked in the back of your mind. “I-I-I can try…” Loopy eyes flicker up to face him, and he’s quick to scrunch his nose. The sight alone makes you breathe easier, though he doesn’t know that. Of course he doesn’t. “Only if you want me to…”

“You know how?”

“Sort of? When I was younger, I used to sit across from my sisters at the breakfast table. I was bound to learn a thing or two.”

The subtle proud smile makes your heart beat flutter, smitten at the insight to his childhood. You wish you knew more. Like what was his favorite show? Did he have any imaginary friends, just like you did? Or maybe his favorite superhero? But you swallow all those questions down your throat as soon as he kneels down next to you. The whiff of soft musk distinctively adds to your headache, but you’re too focused on him for something as dumb as that to matter. 

“Just…close your eyes.”

Taking one last glance at him, you comply, lashes fanning slowly before going completely dark. You can still hear him adjusting, you can feel him take your hair into his hands, but nothing makes you stop breathing like his touch that grazes your cheek. 

It’s almost ghostlike—doesn’t really stay on the same spot for too long—but you know it’s real. Long fingers calmly push strands of hair behind your ear, tranquility expanding over your body. The slight tickle it causes helps ease your pounding migraine, little by little. 

“Are my hands too cold?” he whispers, not trying to intrude, but at the same time, wanting to know. You twist, bottom lip jutting out. Not at all. Keep going. And he does. He ends up tangling your hair a bit, because as it turns out, he doesn’t remember much, but he’s sure to delicately fix his mess, brows drawn in with heavy concentration. 

As soon as your hair is back to flowing free, he relaxes, wincing a bit at the pain in his knees. Your hair feels soft. Just what he would imagine a cloud would feel like. For a second, he begins to wonder, who’s this really for? He feels like this might be soothing him more than you. 

Just then, his finger catches on a knot, and he freezes, stopping all movements. “Holy crap, I am so sorry, I—”

You let out a low whimper, but don’t do so much as bat an eye. You’re sound asleep. The brunette lets out a breath of relief, falling back to sit on the ground. 

Your face is a bit squashed—and you’re drooling just a tad bit—but for some odd reason, he finds himself admiring. You’re full lips. You’re lashes. God, even the way you breathe. He feels a tender smile itching, but it never truly gets to see the light of day, because before he knows it, the door is swung wide open. 

Anastasia stops dead in her tracks. “What happe—is she asleep?”

Oscar opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. He does this a couple of times, awkwardly turning to face you and his assistant, back and forth, back and forth. “She, um…just did. A minute ago.”

She pouts, scratching her head. “Weird. Usually when this happens it prolongs for at least ten minutes before it gets any better.” The green eyed girl sheepishly waves the group of paramedics away. A trail of sighs echo as they turn away. As soon as they’re gone, she gently shuts the door, then tippy toes towards the edge of the small bed. Neat brows furrow. “At least she’s feeling better, no?”

Brown eyes follow her gaze. “Yeah. At least.”

-

Lando ends up throwing—and according to him— “The World’s Coolest Jamboree”. You beg for him to call it anything but jamboree, but he’s too attached to it by the time he sends the last text invite, which so happens to be to the rookie driver. 

“Has anyone RSVPed?” you question over his shoulder. He’s in the middle of mixing some mysterious liquid, but by the looks of it, doesn’t look any good. You grimace. 

He lets out a bleh before dropping his utensils. “No one RSVPs these days. They either show up, or they don’t.” 

A slow nod. “So, you don’t know who’s coming?”

“Not a clue. But most likely everyone.”

You scoff. “How are you so sure?”

He gives you an ‘are you kidding me?’ type glare before sending a sly grin. “First of all, it’s my party. They’d be crazy to miss out. And second of all…it’s only the biggest, funnest, coolest jamboree!”

“Funnest is not a word.”

“And party-poopers aren’t welcomed.” You gasp, smacking his chest harshly. He lets out a snicker, picking up a bag of ice and spilling it into the glass bowl. “But I’ll make an exception. Just this once.”

“Just this once,” you mimic before dipping your pinky in. He instantly slaps your hand away. Smacking your lips, you let out a yelp at the bitter taste. “This tastes like ass. God—not even Daniel will drink this, and that guy drinks anything in his way. I’m surprised he hasn’t been accidentally roofied.”

Lando claps his hands with amusement. “God forbid. And please, pay your respect to Lando’s Best Worst Decision.” A beat. “™.” 

“™?” you deadpan. “What? Are you planning on adding a trademark to this sewage water?”

“It’s good, okay?” Mixing the clear liquid once more, he smiles fondly down at it. “And maybe. I’m seriously considering it.”

You sneer, already walking away.

He ends up being right. Not even an hour later, the party is in full swing. Sure, a couple drivers aren’t able to make it, but it’s still jammed packed. It's honestly a miracle to get through the Monaco flat. 

You’re still sober?

Laughing, you nod, raising your water up in the air like some toast. Daniel frowns. “Considering I have to make sure my number one client doesn’t make any bad choices tonight, then nope. Can’t have a sip of alcohol.” 

Brown eyes flutter slowly. “I’m sure there’s other beverage choices. Have you tried Lando’s Best Worst Decision?” He leans in, winking. “™.”

“Oh no. Don’t tell me you actually like it?” He shrugs and you shudder in disgust. “I’m sure I saw him add ten energy shots and God knows what else.”

“No wonder I feel kinda funky.” Your face drops. “Hey, if you pass out, can I crash tonight?”

“Daniel!” you groan, covering your face. “I swear, I’m going to spill that stupid drin—” Only, Daniel is gone. Craning your head, you circle the room. From where you stand, you’re able to see Carlos and Lando taking part in a heated round of pool, all while Charles sways back and forth, infamous red cup in hand.

Marching over to the kitchen island, you pick up the glass bowl and carry it over to the sink before tipping it over. You huff, hair fanning across your nose. 

“Stupid, stupid boys—”

“Hey.”

You shriek, dropping the bowl, and wincing at the sound of glass shattering. 

Oscar grimaces. “Shit. Sorry. Are you hurt?”

“No.” You sigh. “Lando’s gonna kill me.”

Grabbing the nearby broom, the Australian sweeps carefully while knitting his brows. “Why?”

“It’s a family heirloom.”

“A glass bowl?”

You giggle. “I wonder why too.”

Despite the blaring music, and constant chattering, the room feels rather silent. You fiddle with the hem of your dress, and that seems to catch his eye as it dawns on him that he hasn’t really seen you in anything other than your usual uniform. To be fair, you could say the same. He likes it. 

You clear your throat. “Halfway done. How do you feel?”

He sips on his water, jaw clicking before settling with a sharp tsk. “Good. I think I’m finally getting the hang of it. Anastasia even congratulated me the other day when I diverted a series of questions with ease.”

Impressed, you raise your brows. “Bravo. Wish that was the case with Lando. I swear, sometimes I think he does and says things to make me look bad on purpose.”

“He should stop,” he says with a goofy smile. “Does he not know how lucky he is to get to call you his assistant?”

You blush. “Best friend, actually. I’ve been promoted ever since I pretended to be his girlfriend last New Year's Eve.”

The brunette inches forward with curiosity. “Wish to clarify?”

You hop onto the island, fixing your dress and crossing your legs. “Don’t tell him that I told you any of this, but I secretly think he was embarrassed of not having a midnight’s kiss. Especially since his ex was there with her new boyfriend. Talk about the unexpected.”

His chest tightens. “You two, um…kissed, then?”

“Yes,” you confirm with a childlike grin, and for some reason, it makes him want to puke. “Oh God, I haven’t thought about this in forever!”

He pretends to find interest in the crowded room, but really, it all remains on you. “Was it any good?”

You blush this time and he swears he’s close to walking away. “Yes and no. I mean, it wasn’t bad, but it just didn’t feel right.”

He perks up then, floppy hair bouncing at the sudden speed. “Really?” He coughs, then fixes his watch, training his eyes towards the floor. “Erm, I mean, is that so?”

A nose scrunch. “It felt like kissing someone you’re not supposed to. Which I suppose is true. We’re better off as friends.” He relaxes. “Thinking about it, we might’ve gagged each other's mouths.” You grimace. “If that doesn't show our discomfort, then I don’t know what will.”

“Good to know.” Oscar rubs his arm, up and down, then steps closer to you. You blink. “Hey, I was meaning to ask—”

Strippers? I didn’t order any strippers. 

Hire, a male voice interjects. He means to say he didn’t—hire—any strippers. 

“Son of a…” You wince apologetically, to which he shrugs. Don’t worry. Go. Biting your lip, you nod, rushing to the living room, where Lando, Daniel, and a bunch of other randoms circle the almost nude girls with long legs. 

“I mean, I won’t turn you away, ladies,” the Brit mumbled, already wrapping his arms around their waists. They all giggle, inching closer until he’s a blushing mess. 

You snap your fingers, pointing towards the exit. “All of you need to leave.”

Is that your sister? the one with a cowboy hat whispers into his ear. He quickly shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at you like a deadly weapon. 

“No. That’s his girlfriend,” Daniel yodels, face pressed up against the couch, admiring the group of girls. “But they’re in an open relationship.”

“I’m not his girlfriend—”

“She’s not my girlfriend—”

Oscar’s jaw clenches, eyes focused on the entire commotion. The older Australian rolls his eyes. “Right. We don’t talk about it.”

“Would you stop trying to help?” you shoot back, sarcastically, and clap your hands as if you’re rounding up a new high school cheer. “I need you all out. You want money? Fine. He’ll give you money,” you declare, signaling towards Lando. 

“Hey,” he groans, instantly letting go and stepping closer to you. “They haven’t even done anything to earn it….”

Your eye twitches. “I swear to God—”

“Deal,” the redhead shoots out. “But we need a moment to come to an agreement. You know? On how much we want to ask for.”

“Perfect,” you chirp, rolling your heels. “Take out your wallet, Big Boy.”

“You used to be fun.”

“And you used to be terrified over a pair of tits when I first met you. Whatever happened?” Lando blushes profoundly before pushing you away. “Want them gone, Lando, gone!”

“Yes! Jesus Christ—let me deal with this.”

“I’m done,” you promise with your hands raised up in surrender. “But just remember what happened last time.” He frowns, cocking his head to the side. You wiggle your brows. “São Paulo.” 

Color drains his face before letting out an unhinged laugh and motioning you away. You giggle, heading back to where Oscar stands. 

“I see what you mean,” he announces. What? “How he can have a bit of a headache.” 

“See! I told you! Four years of this!” A dramatic yawn. “I’m tired.” 

A string of boo’s follow once the strippers prance out the door, waving all their money in the air. Specifically Daniel, who genuinely looks upset to see them go. Oscar leans down against the counter, the proximity between you becoming smaller. “You should get some rest, then.” But he selfishly doesn’t  mean it. He wants you to stay—to keep talking to him. 

You let out a snort, grabbing your sides. “I mean, I'm tired of being Lando’s assistant. It’s a full time job, y’know?”

“Oh.” He stands up straight again. “Right. Of course.”

You purse your lips, looking down to your shoes. “But that was actually quite thoughtful.”

She thinks I’m thoughtful, he internally swoons because that must be a good sign, right? Not everyone is thoughtful, but he is, and that must count for something. Gathering all the strength he has left—which is not much considering you blink up at him like some angel—he licks his pink lips. “Back to what I was going to say earlier before you left—”

“I wasn’t trying to step on him! I already said I was sorry!” you hear a familiar voice, instantly turning to find Anastasia kicking Daniel’s face back into place, well, since he now lays asleep on the floor. You curse beneath your breath, jumping off the island once again. 

“His head did a complete 360!” Yuki accuses, clearly panicked. “That's not normal, is it?”

“No, it is,” Pierre replies with a bored tone. “I’ve seen it happen before.”

Crouching down next to the curly haired driver, you jab his cheek before motioning Oscar and Anastasia closer. “Help me carry him to the guest room,” you instruct, already taking off your cardigan. 

The black haired girl is quick on her feet, grabbing the Australians right leg as you grab the left. Oscar, however, swallows hard at the amount of cleavage you’re suddenly displaying, but instantly snaps out of it when both you and Anastasia blink back at him. He picks up the Alpha Tauri driver’s upper body before puffing. 

You blush bright pink at the sight of his muscles pulsing against his t-shirt. “I-It’s just around the corner.” 

As soon as you make it into the room, you three carefully place Daniel onto the bed, to which he squirms before flipping over and snoring away. You motion a finger over your lips before pushing them both out. Gently closing the door behind you,you let out a breath of relief. 

Anastasia lets out a whistle. “Surprisingly not that heavy.”

Oscar scoffs. “Easy for you to say. I had to carry most of his weight.” 

She shrugs, hugging you hello and apologizing for being so late, and you’re quick to reassure her that it’s fine, though she missed the chance to see strippers give Lando a tough time. She sneers. “I didn’t even know there existed strippers in Monaco.” And then she’s off, clapping loudly at the sight of Lando giving out a round of jello shots. You sigh, rubbing your temples.

“I-I’m sorry. What were you going to say?”

He freezes. “Oh. Just that—” He panics. “Only that I like your shoes!”

You blink, deflating from within. But you try to cover it up with a soft smile. “Thanks, I guess?” Orbs flicker down toward your white Sambas. “Lando says they are overrated, but I like ‘em.”

He nods. “Yeah. I like them too.”

-

It happens one Friday afternoon—the decision. 

You’re in between races, you’re in between headaches, and you’re ready to self-implode. So, before any of that happens, you make your first decision. To go on a walk. 

It’s getting rather chilly these days, something you love, but also hate. You love it because there is a certain coziness that comes along with it, but you also hate it because you can’t always be cozy, so you’re left shivering. Much like now. But to be fair, this was your own choosing. 

The pounding that takes over your head lessens the longer you stroll, the longer you breathe actual fresh air. You don’t really think much, you mainly remain blank, but the sound of tires screeching rips you away. Squinting hard, you catch a glimpse of a lady with grocery bags flipping off the fellow driver, who shares nothing but an apologetic smile before driving off. 

“What happened? Do I have something on my face?”

Dusting your nose, then your cheek, you blush faintly. You instantly assume it’s the powdered donuts fault—the one you had gobbled up in a hurry during the drive back to the paddock. It was an early morning, and no one really made it on time when it came to early days, but you always did. And so did Oscar. So, a sleepy Zak gave you a wad of cash, and sent you two to the nearest donut shop. 

The Australian shakes his head, blinking straight ahead. “N-no, I was just checking my blind spot.”

That only makes you blush harder because in what crazy world would he be looking at you? 

A single nod. The car is quiet apart from the sound of his hands moving against the steering wheel, and the sound of the blinker clicking. It’s gloomy, too. You clear your throat. “I love it when it rains.” He hums, calmly, encouraging you to continue. “It just makes me happy.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You purse your lips. “I sort of wish I were home. That way I can snuggle near the window and fall asleep to the sound of light drizzle.”

The brunette quirks a brow towards the road. “That sounds nice. Like…really nice.” A pause. “Why can’t you do that here, though?”

Here—here means where you are right now. Here means this place that’s not home. Here is not close to being enough, but he doesn’t figure that one out. You blink, dragging your finger along the pink box sitting on your lap. “Trust me, I’ve tried.” A small shrug. “But it’s just not the same, y’know? There’s always something missing.”

He doesn’t waste a moment in asking. “What do you think that is?”

Taken aback by his inquiry, you let yourself surmise for a second or two before licking your lips. “Maybe a pup. To keep me company”

He semi-frowns, cocking his head to send you a deadpan expression. “A dog?”

Now it’s your turn to frown, sending him a glare. “What were you thinking?”

The red light lets him take focus on you. “Dunno. A boyfriend, maybe?”

You’re sure you’re nearly as tomato red as the light staring at you both. “What? You instantly just assume I don't have one already?”

He freezes. “Well, I, um…t-that’s not what I meant—”

“Look, I know I’m not a guys’ typical ‘dream girl’, but sheesh I’m not that unlovable. At least, I hope not, but now you’re making me second guess. I mean, your opinion must indicate everyone sees me as some sort of lonely widow.”

Oscar shakes his head, adamantly. “I don’t see you as such.” A slow pause. “A lonely widow, I mean. I find your words to not be all that true, really. You’re nice. You’re persevering, You’re beautiful. And you have a good heart.” The light translates back to green, and you’re freakishly thankful, that way he can’t see you burn up. “You could easily be anyone's dream. Whoever makes you think otherwise is a phony.”

It’s getting harder not to laugh—most likely out of skeptic shock—but you refrain. He’s simply being kind with you, but that doesn’t stop you from nearly going into cardiac arrest. His words should have been labeled with a warning. 

“Guess this world is filled with lots of phonies.”

He scoffs. “There shouldn’t be. Not when it comes to a girl like you.”

Your breath catches. “Os—”

All of a sudden, the car comes to a harsh stop, sending you flying, but not the Australian, who remains sitting up straight. An older man flips him off before riding off on his bike. You both breath hard, turning to face each other. 

“Are you okay?” he questions, voice laced with worry. 

You nod, slightly dazed. “I, um—yeah. Are you?”

A nod. “I didn’t even see where he came from.”

A weak laugh finally erupts. “Blame it on the poor innocent man— clever.”

Brown eyes soften. They flicker from your orbs back to your pouty lips. He’s only checking if you’re okay, of course. You send him a reassuring bow and he releases a heavy breath. 

“Guess I was too focused on my blind spot, once again.”

The next decision comes when you opt in to join your neighbor, Mr. Lennon, for a cup of tea after he finds you shivering. By that time, it’s raining hard, you're soaking wet, and it only makes sense to accept his kind offer. 

“Mint. To hopefully push back any upcoming cold. God, what were you thinking?”

You let out a laugh. “Not much. That’s why I was aimlessly roaming.”

“What about now?”

You halt, mug raised up to your chapped lips. “What about now?”

He smiles, softly, mixing his own tea with a heavy spoon of honey. “Did the walk help? Were you able to get the wheels rolling?”

Now you giggle loudly. “That’s not very nice! The wheels are working just fine, thank you very much.”

The light scent of pine trees enter the room as soon as he stands up to open his window, the sound of soft rain singing to you as some much needed therapy. “So? What were you pondering about out there?”

“I wasn’t pondering.”

“Walking alone in the middle of a thunderstorm?” A sore laugh. “Been there. Done that. There’s always something on someone’s mind when that happens. Which isn’t often, or usual, so that must mean you’re really stuck up on something.”

“Or someone,” you mumble beneath your breath. His brows dart up, and you sheepishly settle the mug down. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

You blink. You don’t really talk about him out loud. Not with Lando. Not with Anastasia. Not even with your own reflection. Everything has always remained with you. A place you knew to be safe because you made it safe. But Mr. Lennon’s eyes prove to you that he’s lived enough lives—enough scenarios—to maybe understand. Even just a fraction. He watches you visibly gulp. And he knows that look. The confusion, the yearning. 

“I’m in love with this boy.”

He hums, leaning back against his wooden chair. “There’s always a boy.”

You look down. “He’s a friend of mine, which makes everything much worse because I can’t ruin that. But for the first time in all my years of living…” Round, glossy eyes stare back at him with a hopeless expression. “I really—really—want to.”

He’s attentive, he listens like some frozen statue, and maybe that’s what fuels your courage to continue speaking. “My entire life, I’ve had crushes, sure, but I’ve never loved someone. Not seriously. So, of course I’m caught off guard when I do feel that for someone who I’m not even in a relationship with.” A playful snort. “God, I feel so stupid.”

The silence that lingers is comforting. Your nerves flow away with the rain, and you feel at peace. Quietly, he clears his throat. “Can I tell you a story?”

A soft sigh. “I’m all ears.”

Gray brows furrow as if trying to recover a distant memory. “I once loved a boy, too.” Your eyes widen. Sure, you knew he was never married, never even had a kid, but you never thought of any reason as to why not. He nods, faintly. “Not many know, and not because I’m ashamed, not by any means…” A single beat. “But because real, sincere feelings are easier to ignore. Because who wants to deal with reality, right? Who wants to confess and be turned away like some dog at your door?”

Exactly, you think, nodding along. “Everyone is always going to be scared of something, but avoidant people like us are terrified about the what-ifs.” He sends a wink. “And I’m living proof that being that way won’t get you nowhere. And you'll realize sooner or later in life that you’d rather be nowhere with someone you love, than nowhere…” His eyes circle the nearly empty kitchen, despite living there for the past twenty years. “...all alone.”

Your chin wobbles. “You know you have me, right? I’m always next door.” A wet laugh follows. “Anyways, I might even join you in this lonely life, eh? Doesn’t sound half bad if I’m doing it with you.”

Tender eyes close slowly before blinking back at you. “No. I want you to be the complete opposite from me. Be different. Tell him how you feel. Even if it costs you a broken heart, tell him. Because I’m telling you right now that a broken heart is always better than the constant desire that will always follow you like the devil.”

A warm droplet rolls down your cheek as you sheepishly laugh, but he doesn’t judge. He never has. Instead, ever the true gentleman, he hands you his handkerchief. “Did you ever get the chance to tell him that you…”

His wrinkles imprint more vividly as he breathes out. “I did, but it didn’t really make the difference I had hoped for. He was already married to someone else.”

A loud sob escapes. “That’s not f-fair. You deserve to be happy with the man you love.”

“I do. But you know what?” You rub the tears away, eyes connecting. “I’ve made peace with the consequences of my own actions.”

By now the rain has died down, and so have you. With one last smile, Mr. Lennon gives your cold hand a soft squeeze.   

“Learn from my mistakes, won’t you?”

-

That same night, as you cried over a bottle of wine, you made your third and final decision. And you would execute it all the next time you saw him, no matter the outcome. 

But now that you spoke about it once to someone, you felt almost invincible. Which is why you called Lando. 

You what? 

A wince. “You can’t tell him, okay? I’m legitimately trusting you with this!” He opens his mouth, but you’re quick to signal him off. “Including Ana.”

“Wow. I thought she’d know.” You shrug because you don’t really have an explanation for not having had confided in her, but you know deep down that you’re not really into playing a game of Cupid, and that’s exactly what she'd turn this into. The Brit nods, sympathetically. “Alright. I won’t tell a single soul.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you going to tell him how you feel?”

His question comes out hesitant—like he’s afraid of scaring you away from the possibility—but it doesn’t. Instead, you nod, to which he’s extra surprised because you’ve never been the kind to. “That’s the main reason I told you any of this. Because I wanted to ask you if you knew if he has a girlfriend or not? Someone he’s trying to pursue? I’d hate to…intervene.”

Lando let’s put a soft smile, dimples imprinting neatly onto his face. “I mean, he’s particularly private—you know him—but I’ve never heard him mention having a girl. It doesn’t seem like he does. Go for it. What do you have to lose?”

“My dignity? A good friend?”

Silently, he grimaces because even he can see how much this all means to you—how much you’re scared. So, to boost up your confidence—which is something he definitely doesn’t lack—he flashes a loopy grin. “He probably likes you, anyways.”

You come to a fast halt. Suddenly, painting your nails isn’t your top priority. “Really? You think so?” He nods, and you can’t help but smile back. “What’d he say?”

“Well, as I already stated before, he keeps his things locked up pretty well. But I do recall one time…” He closes his eyes harshly. Then, he snaps his fingers loudly. “I believe in Hungary. He was on a high. And we shared a bottle of champagne to celebrate. So, he sort of let loose. Like insanely loose.”

“And?” you push, eagerly trying to get whatever he has stuck in his throat out of him. The green eyed boy snickers. 

“He wasn’t very clear, but he did say he had a crush on a girl. Someone he really wanted to get to know. But that  things were a little bit difficult.” You nod, urging him to continue. “I asked why, and he said it was because she had a good heart, or something of that sort? Good intentions? Can’t remember—and that he didn’t want to ruin it.”

Your breath hitches.

And you have a good heart. You could easily be anyone’s dream. 

-

Ironically, you’re huddled in Lando’s flat once again when it happens. Well. Almost happens. It’s filled with a few McLaren members because he insisted on hosting a nice brunch. And it was. Nice, you mean. 

“Pretty,” Anastasia says, sending a soft smack towards your ass. You yelp, swatting her hand away, and pulling your skirt downward. She snickers. “You should tie your hair up more often. Let’s everyone admire such an angel face.”

“Stop it,” you hiss, but can’t hide the pink flush. “But thank you.” 

She grins, eyes crinkling. Black hair sways as she moves to the beat of the music, nursing her drink. “Nice to have a break…”

“Definitely.”

At some point, she slithers away, leaving you all alone on the balcony. Which was quite lonesome until he came along. Oscar scrunched his nose, meekly. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Don’t own this place, do I?”

He lets off a raw chuckle. Deeper than when you first met him, and you come to the realization that a lot about him has changed. His hair is longer, his neck is thicker, and his shoulders are wider. But his smile and eyes remain the same. Boyish.

“Thinking?”

You sigh, admiring the ocean set out right in front of you. “Thinking, yes. A lot these days.”

And if he’s patient enough, he’d notice the way your hands shake. Tiny vibrates, but still.. He’d notice the way you bite down on your lip, brushing it along the way. He’d notice the way you blink feverishly, like even the wind hurts. 

And he is. He is a patient person. So, he does notice. 

“Do you know what song this is?”

Brows furrow, deep in thought. And he’s quick to note that the ticks you had are coming to an easy halt. Mentally, though, you’re cursing yourself out because you do know. You do know the song that flows nicely into your ears, but simply having him next to you is what’s making you forget. How dare me have that kind of power over you?

“I know it,” you start. “But I can’t seem to remember right now...”

The brunette gently nods his head along to the beat. His eyes close, and his hair delicately tussles, and suddenly he’s the only thing you see. “Sex,” he says. You blush, ripping your gaze away before he catches you in the act. Oscar laughs. “It’s Sex by The 1975. How could I forget?”

“Oh yeah.”

The guitar screeches when the volume somehow gets louder, despite not being inside. “Would have killed me not to get it right. My sister listens to it all the time.”

Plump lips pressed together. “You have a sister?” But you know the answer to that question, of course you do. You’re a girl. You’ve done your research, even when you pinched yourself not to. 

He nods. “Three, actually. Talk about a headache, am I right?”

And it’s almost nostalgic—your laugh. Like it might be one he heard in his past life, but in his current one, can't remember. But it’s okay if he doesn’t because at least he knows he can learn it. And he has. 

“You look really pretty when you laugh that way. Insanely so.”

You can’t seem to register his words. The way they come off as soft and ginger as they could possibly get. As if he really means it. And for the first time since your first interaction with him almost two years ago—you sort of believe he might. 

“You’re just saying that?” you question as some test, does eyes challenging him into finally spitting out the truth. The same truth you carry. He shakes his head, taking a step closer.

“I mean it.” 

Like a sudden magnet, you two are hesitantly connecting closer and closer together before either of you could stop it. Not that either of you would. The Australian towers over you, almost caging you like some endangered species he’s afraid of slipping away and going extinct. 

You swallow, lashes fluttering, and he smiles at the sight—melts. You’ve always been reserved. Quiet. Shy. And so has he, so he can’t really judge you, but he’s willing to be different—just once in his life—to get what he’s been wanting for a long time now. 

His eyes follow your lips. Admires how plump they are. How they’re the perfect shade of pink. So, when he leans in and you don’t pull away? He thinks he might explode with the need to kiss you. One time. If he’s lucky, just—once. 

“You’ve always been my dre—”

“There you two are!” Anastasia cheers, zigzagging to you both as an apologetic Lando follows right after. By now, Oscar has jumped far away from you, and you’re left feeling empty and lost, blinking at an alarming rate. “We’ve been looking all over!” A hiccup. “What were you doing?” Your lips remain open but Oscar is the first to let out an awkward cough.

“We were just talking about…logistics!” He turns to you, sparing you a pleading look. “W-weren’t we?”

You finally come to, nodding slowly, eyes buzzing between the two McLaren drivers and your best friend, who wobbles from left to right. “Yeah, I….we—logistics, and whatnot.” A beat. “Doesn’t matter.”

He flinches, avoiding your doleful stare. Oscar forces such a bright smile—the kind that can’t go unnoticed by even the biggest idiot on earth—and nods in agreement. “She’s right. It doesn’t matter.”

Lando analyzes you, then his teammate, and wishes he had done more to keep Anastasia from barging in. But really, was this some sign? Maybe you were some delusional little girl who truly believed she had a chance with the boy next door. The one everyone wants, but only one will get to have.

And let’s face it. 

It was never going to be you.

-

You’d make an excellent detective in your next life, you’re sure of it. But for now, you’re just some brokenhearted assistant who mourns the death of her what-ifs. Someone who is really good at picking up on clues. 

It’s right before Christmas—right before Anastasia’s birthday party—and you’re curling your hair quite poorly. You daze off every now and then, you apply mascara almost zombie-like, and you’re dreading even showing up. Have you been avoiding him? Yes. Yes, you have. Have you been good at it? Only the best, if we’re being truthful here. And were you ready to face him without feeling the need to bolt? 

Nope. Not in this lifetime nor the next.

But still, you force yourself to finish getting ready because this isn’t about you. This isn’t about him. It’s about being there for your friend. 

Mindlessly, on the drive there, pouting in the back of the yellow cab, you click onto Instagram and the first thing you do is smile at the birthday post Anastasia had posted not even five minutes ago. You scroll, smile wider, and then come to a harsh pause. The kind that makes your throat close up. The kind that makes you stop breathing. 

The kind that lets you know—

You’ve lost.

His arms are tied around her waist, his head nuzzles between her neck, but you can still tell it’s him. His hazel hair can’t go unnoticed. Maybe to someone else, but not you. 

Then, as if all odds are against you, your feed refreshes and you’re left far more dumbfounded. 

She appears in most of his pictures because why not? It’s his girlfriend's birthday, it goes as expected. Museum dates. Pictures of them with each other's families. And you feel greedy like never before because—why couldn't that be you? 

Venmo or cash? You look up, making eye contact with your taxi driver who looks as tired as you are. You press your lips together into a fine line. Digging into your purse, you grab all that you have and jump out of the cab. 

It’s chilly out and the lights are beautifully hung, but it doesn’t do you any good. You just want to go home. Curl up in bed and die. Dig a hole—self-suffocate—who cares. And you’re ready to turn around, go back and apologize to Mr. Lennon for not doing better. You really thought you had it in you, but it just wasn’t enough. 

But then, the door swings open and Pierre curls a brow. Kika waves from behind “He thought you were some serial killer. He’s been watching too much Dateline.” The brunette scurries over, throwing her arms around you and takes a step back. “Come in before you freeze to death.”

But even that didn’t sound too bad. You sheepishly thank her, following the couple back in. A string of jazz cradles the warm lit living room and the scent of apple pie makes you inhale sharply. A giggle stirs up behind you. Anastasia grins.

“You’re here!”

All of a sudden, you hate her smile. You hate her laugh. You hate her entirely. But you also don’t. You can’t hate her smile. You can’t hate her laugh. You can’t hate her entirely. Because even though you feel like she owes you loyalty, that’s not really true. She had zero idea about your feelings towards Oscar and she won. Fair and square. That doesn’t mean you had to like it.

“Happy birthday, Annie.” Hugging her, you giggle against her ear when she jumps up and down, nearly knocking you two over. “For you. From me.”

She wiggles her neat brows, green eyes buzzing with suspicion. “Is it a vibrator again?”

You blush. “No. Even better.”

“Wow! Even better?” She rips the small bag open, eyes widened double in their size. “Oh my God, you got me the Mary Jane’s I wanted?”

“Well, you kept bugging me, and so I thought—”

“D'accord, je comprends. I love them, thank you.” Grabbing your wrist, she tugged you into the empty hallway, and you can already feel her buzzing with excitement. Your stomach churns. “I wanted to tell you as soon as he asked me out—I really did—but he insisted on keeping it between us two for a while, and I told him no, I had to tell you, but then I understood that maybe it was for the best, and I’ve always liked him—”

Every word makes you feel smaller and smaller because the light in her eyes gives it all away. She, too—much like you—is in love with Oscar Piastri. You shake your head, sharing a light laugh. “I totally get it. There’s no need to explain.” 

The green eyed girl visibly relaxes, shoulders rolling back. “I knew you’d understand. Oscar was right—you have a good heart.”

Ana, Yuki just spilled wine on your coach, Daniel rattles from the other side of the room, pointing accusingly towards his teammate who rubs the cushion with his Dior sweatshirt. She sighs. Be right back!

At that moment, you don’t care if you wind up with a deadly case of hypothermia, you simply walk out of the warm house.

“What are you doing? You’re going to get sick.”

Screwing your eyes shut seems to be the only answer to help your mending heart into not breaking completely. And fuck him—fuck him for sounding so goddamn caring. 

You turn with a soft smile, shrugging nonchalantly. “Won’t really make a difference, I already feel sick.” You cough for emphasis. “See?” Oscar rolls his eyes, ignoring the poor excuse, and hands you his puffer jacket. You shake your head. Take it. “No.” He frowns. Why not? Rocks crunch with every step he takes. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“What? Borrowing a jacket from a friend?”

“Borrowing my best friend's boyfriend’s jacket.”

His stomach drops, rolling with a wave of anxiety as he tries to not show his uncomfort. “She told you?”

Your teeth grind harder. “That, and you both posted about a thousand pictures together. Wasn’t that difficult to understand what was going on.” A sore laugh. “I’m happy for you two, though. Really. I am.”

“You are?”

Sending a nasty glare that you tried to keep in for the life in you, you turn over to face him, nose rosy. “Yes. Over the fucking moon.”

He flinches. “Listen, about that day at Lando’s house. I-I-I was caught up in the moment. I shouldn’t have said what I said, o-or tried to kiss you—”

“You’re a phony, you know that, right?”

Another flinch. “I’m trying to apologize to you. I’m sorry. I feel bad, okay?”

Tears well up inside your eyes. Somewhere deep inside your chest, you feel a harsh sting, and still that doesn’t compare to his pity. You let out a scoff, crossing your arms. “You feel bad, for what? For messing with my emotions, or for getting with my best friend?” You poke his chest hard, but he remains as still as a brick wall, a pained expression mapped out. “Which one is it?”

“For all of it!” He grabs your face, making you freeze under his fire-like touch. “I loved you—God—I loved every inch of you. Your humor, your heart, your jokes that never land, the awkward giggles that follow afterward—everything. There was not a single thing you could do that could have pushed me away.”

“Then what happened?” you whisper, eyes tracing his pink lips, trying to enjoy his hands. They’re calloused, sure, but they’re by far the closest thing you’ve had, so nothing else matters. His breath hitches, soft eyes looking down at you in complete defeat. You grimace. “Why was I not enough for you to try?”

His hands drop. Brown locks shakes as he rubs his eyes, like this is all some part of a fever dream. Maybe it was. The Australian frowns. “I could ask you the same thing.”

It’s a slap in the face, and it burns like never before because you know he’s right. “I wanted to tell you!” A shaky breath. “I was going to tell you.”

Leaves rustle. “You were?”

“Yes,” you confess, nodding adamantly. “That day at Lando’s place—I wanted to tell you.”

The McLaren driver bites his tongue hard, blinking rapidly. “W-what would you have said?”

“That I loved you too.”

He can’t hide his pain just by hearing those words. He scrunches his nose. He nods robotically. And he keeps his eyes trained towards the ground, like he’s in the middle of solving a puzzle. 

“I really did like you. From the moment we met.” Finally, he looks up, round eyes searching for any sign of intimacy. If there’s any left—any you still save for him. “Do you remember the day we first met?”

“A little bit. Yeah.”

A second ticks by. “I do. Remember it all, I mean. Think back to it quite often.” He lets out a boyish grin, crinkles forming, making your heart flutter. “You took my breath away.” 

And as if humanly possible, despite the icy air, your cheekbones flush harder as you bite back a giddy smile. “You barely even noticed me—”

“You wore a white ribbon. Hair half up, half down. Denim overalls with your initials sewn onto them. Emerald earrings.” You blink, clearly taken aback by his polished memory. His eyes soften. “I’ll always notice you.”

-

Anastasia pecks the Australians cheek, giggling after each one. Oscar smiles, letting out a sheepish laugh. From the corner, seated next to Lando, you sigh sadly. The Brit bumps his shoulder up against yours. What’s wrong? But you must not have heard him, or you ignore him, but he, too, has eyes. 

“I swear I didn’t know a thing about them,” he whispers. “If I had, I would have warned you, you know that—”

“Lando,” you cut him off, voice weak and mellow. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

He frowns. “I know that, but—”

“It’s not your fault,” you repeat, this time more firm. He swallows, nodding hesitantly. With a soft laugh, you poke his ribs and he’s quick to let out a yelp. “Just want to forget, you know?”

Lando hums. “Understood.”

Anastasia clinks her spoon against her mug. The one you each painted differently in that one pottery class years ago. She grins. “I’m so glad all of you could make it, really, it means a lot.” Her eyes crinkle sweetly towards Oscar who traces shapes down her back. She blushes for him—the same way you do. “I feel like…I finally have everything I ever wanted.”

A string of oohh's echo the room, whistles ringing. She laughs, head falling back, and he lets out a single chuckle, rosy cheeks making everyone grow louder. Meanwhile, you stay silent, focusing on Lando’s shoes. The Brit winces, rubbing your shoulder awkwardly. 

Daniel yodels, raising his beer. “Well, in that case, I feel like I do too!” He hiccups, making Pierre and Yuki snicker. “A hot girlfriend, good ‘ol friends, and a nice pair of abs.”

“They are nice,” Lily mumbles, earning her a soft smack from Alex who rolls his eyes. 

Carlos cackles. “Me next—um, okay. A good team, my girlfriend, and…and—my hair.”

“Narcissist,” Lando whispers, trying to get a good laugh out of you. And it works. You giggle, muffling the sound with the back of your hand. Oscar perks up, orbs floating over to where you and the Brit whisper to one another, smiles only growing wider. His jaw clenches. Either way, you tune out all the constant chatter after hearing how Pierre was grateful for having a massive cock. 

“I really hope nothing changes between us.”

You laugh. “I think it might be a bit too late for that.”

The Australian scratches his shoes against the wet pavement. He agrees. He won’t admit it, but he agrees. Everything has changed. Timidly, he glances over at you, biting the inside of his cheek. His gaze burns—just like always—and you turn to face him.

By now your tears have dried, but your heartbreak still continues. Something deep inside tells you that it’ll continue for as long as you live. You despise yourself for letting any of this get out of hand. For letting your fear of rejection play a big part in losing him. He smiles.

“I love you, okay?”

You smile. “I love you, too.”

Your voice sounds sweet—just like honey. And if it’s a lie, just to make him feel better, then he’s a grateful bloke. He might not have your heart—not completely—and he might not have your hand in his, but he’s fine with that. Because he’s heard all he’s needed to hear. And he can live at peace.

Oscar grins, leaning down to kiss your cheek. It’s tender, just the way you pictured it. You smell like flowers, just like he had dreamt. He pulls away. “You can always talk to me. Whenever. I’ll always be there for you.”

“Thank you. But I won’t bother you too much.” His brows furrow, mouth opening to protest before you wave him off with a tired smile. “Don’t want to vent to you about…well—you.”

“What about you?” Anastasia squeals, making your jump in place. 

“What about me?” 

She rolls her eyes, theatrically. Oscar remains as still as a statue, enjoying the moment to admire you without having to explain why—all eyes were on you, after all. “Have you ever gotten everything you ever wanted?”

Wistfully, your eyes look up, connecting with the ones you know so well. You admire his boyish features one last time before looking down onto your lap and then focusing on Anastasia.

“No. But I once got very close.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious @notkaryna

[beloveds-embrace]

Noona please I beg of you, I need more men grovelling and regretting their actions; please give us more of the angsty version of the dukedom au it’s so good, it’s so cathartic please. What happens when the boys realize they fucked up? Who wants to fight Konig upon realizing reader is definitely getting her back blown out by him? Imagine if reader ended up having his baby, or placing divorce papers on Price’s desk, god the ANGST of it all

Here’s my dog as a banana as payment

Original post

THE DOG PICCC TELL YOUR DOG I SAID THEY ARE GOODEST BOY/GIRL EVERRRR ID DIE FOR THEMMM

also thank you to everyone for all the suggestions! I couldn’t add all of them so I’m super sorry for that 😭 and also a thank you to @darkangel4121 for your replies!!

The shift in the household’s demeanor comes slowly, as if the wind has changed direction. At first, it’s little things- a hesitant glance from John, a lingering pause before he leaves a room. Kyle- as you've come to finally learn his first name despite not asking- places your breakfast tray before you with newfound care and no disdainful silence, and Johnny’s meals are cooked to perfection, also a new name you've just so recently been told of. Even Duke Riley himself begins to nod in your direction when he visits, acknowledging your presence in ways he never did before.

But it all feels hollow.

These gestures, once craved, now barely touch you. You are polite, civil, offering faint smiles that do not reach your eyes, acknowledging the changes without truly engaging. Your heart no longer waits at the threshold of their approval; it has found its sanctuary elsewhere, firmly cradled in the hands of a man who has always seen you. Your knight. Your shadow. König.

You walk through the estate, thinking of John’s efforts with a detached air. He invites you to dinners now rather than leave you alone for entire days and nights, his voice gentler, eyes searching for cracks in the walls he helped build. He asks about your day, and you respond with the measured politeness your parents taught you. The warmth he offers now is too late, a sun long set. The flicker of hope in his eyes fades each time you excuse yourself early, your presence like a ghost haunting rooms that no longer feel like home.

König waits for you just beyond the hallways, his presence like a balm to a wound. He falls in step beside you without a word, the weight of his loyalty comforting in a way no amount of decorum could be. He is everything you need- unwavering, fiercely protective, and yours.

In the gardens, beneath a gnarled oak tree, you find moments of peace with him that you could never find within the walls of the estate. You sit together in companionable silence, your shawl and his cape wrapped tightly around you against the evening chill. When you lean against him, pressing your forehead to the cool metal of his armor, you feel his breath hitch. His hand comes to rest at your back, gentle despite the strength he wields.

“I missed you today,” you whisper, your fingers tracing idle patterns over the fabric of his sleeve. It is an admission you would have once swallowed down, but with König, you have no need to hide.

His grip tightens briefly. “I am always here, mylady,” he replies, his voice soft only for you. “You need only call for me.”

“I know.” You close your eyes, listening to the steady thrum of his heart. It beats for you, and that knowledge fills the spaces that loneliness once carved. “You are all I need.”

He shifts then, kneeling before you as he often does, his hands enveloping yours. His gaze is intense, pale eyes searching your face for signs of hesitation, but there are none. “I would give you the world if I could, mylady,” he says, voice low. “But all I have is myself.”

“You are enough,” you say simply, and you mean it. “More than enough. All I could ever want.”

König bows his head, a soft exhale escaping him. ���Then I will stay by your side, always.”

The men of the estate still try, fumbling in their newfound efforts to mend what they broke.

John brings you flowers, freshly cut and arranged with care, so you can decorate your drawing room where you occasionally play the harp. You accept them with a polite nod, but they are forgotten in moments, and you go back to asking Konig his opinion on the melody you are playing. Kyle offers to escort you on walks, but you refuse, choosing instead the quiet solace of the garden paths shared with König. Simon’s attempts at conversation are met with cool civility, and Johnny's food largely goes untouched. You allow none of them closer than courtesy demands.

And the gifts received from John and Duke Simon are left untouched. They aren’t much of your style anyways.

But with König, you are different. Soft. Open. You share your thoughts, your fears, the dreams you had long given up on. He listens, always.

One evening, in the safe privacy of your rooms, he rests his head in your lap, a rare moment of vulnerability. You cradle his masked face, tracing the edges of the fabric. You are unafraid of being interrupted; your new maids were quiet and nervous, likely not wanting to be dismissed after the last batch were. You still have no idea how Konig managed to do it, but he spoke to John personally and had them all removed; despite that, you don’t care for their dubious help.

You had made sure to show Konig your appreciation quite thoroughly. Even days later, you swore you could feel how big his hands on your thighs were, keeping you nice and open for his tongue. He'd kept you in that position even when a knock had sounded and someone had entered, but the knowledge of what was going on only sent a sharp thrill of excitement through you.

Still, pettily, you hoped it'd been John who had seen you in the throes of pleasure.

Not right now, Duchess. Not right now.

“Are you tired, my love?” you ask gently, the term of endearment slipping out so naturally it catches even you by surprise, earlier thoughts pushed aside. Still, you have no desire to take it back.

He stills, breath caught. “Say it again. Please.”

“My love.” You smile, leaning closer to press your forehead against his. “You are my love.”

His hands tighten around yours, trembling. “I have always been yours.”

And you believe him. In the warmth of his embrace, you find what the others could now never give- a place where you are cherished, where you are enough. The rest of the estate watches you drift further away, their regret too heavy to shift the chasm that now lies between you. You are beyond their reach, ensconced in a love that was never born out of duty but out of genuine care.

In one of those quiet moments beneath the moonlit sky, after a tiring day of going between appointments and lawyers, you ask him, “Will you take me far from here one day, König? Somewhere far away, where I am free?”

“When you are ready, Liebling,” he promises without hesitation, pale eyes earnest. “I will take you wherever you wish to go.”

The world around you may continue its attempts to pull you back in, but it is too late. Your heart belongs only to the man who has always been your refuge, your shadow, your light. And with him, you finally feel free. König, König, König- and no one else.

dukedom au masterlist

[whore-ibly-hot]

"A Servant and His King."

Yandere!Fae-King x Fae!servant x. Fem! Reader

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Dub-con, perverted thoughts, obsession, coercion, fae related hijinks, basically monster fucking, oral (fem receiving), loss of virginity, clit play, p-in-v sex, power dynamics.

(A/N): Part two to a non-smutnfic about Puck, based off of puck from 'Midsummer Nights Dream'. Can be read with or standalone.

Part one (not required to understand)

A brief gust of wind and leaves rattles the shutters of your small cottages window, not sounding out of place when mixed with the usual sounds of the forest. However, the gust turns softer as it gently brushes against the shutters, causing them to open slowly with a creak.

A pair of feet land nimbly upon the wooden dresser across the room from your bed, a shadowy figure squatting down with a grin. The figure hops down, making its way to your bed, where you sleeping form lies blissfully unaware of the intruder.

Groaning, you are soon roused from your slumber by a light pressure on your wrist, and your eyes flutter open. You gasp, seeing the being before you and trying to pull away. "

"W-who are you! Stay awa-" a finger is pressed softly to your lips, the figures face coming into view as the lean forward. Forest green eyes and a set of familiar pearly whites greet you.

"Shh! No need to fear, only Puck is here." He coos, kissing your wrist once more, pressing the soft flesh to his lips. "Sorry to frighten you, little mortal. I would never mean to upset you, but I couldn't very waltz in through the entrance to your humble abode, especially given your mother's feelings about my kind." He lays his lithe body across yours, head on your chest as he looks at you with glee.

"Why are you here, Puck? It's late, I must rest." You say, though you don't resist the fae boys touching. "Sleep is important for humans."

He scoffs. "I know, but I have something more important than your human need for sleep. My king, Oberon, leader of the seelie court wishes to meet you." He pulls you up by your shoulders, a hand fixing your nightgown which begins to slip from your shoulder.

"T-the king?" You're just a human woman, a peasant. You've never even met a human noble, much less a faery king. "Why? Puck, I'm not, I can't! Now? I'm not dressed properly, I'm a human, I-"

Once again, a finger is placed against your lips. Invading your space as per usual, Pucks forehead is pressed against your forehead, nose to nose. "Shush, little mortal. Please, the king loves me. I am his jester-servant, his beloved Puck! We've shared many a-" he chuckles. "Amourous night together. He knows if your good enough for me, then your good enough to meet him. Don't discredit yourself, you are so much more than some mortal maid I take in the woods for a night of passion." He makes her sit up, and tries to slip her out of the bed. "He'll love you, my sweet. It's only proper I introduce my new beloved friend to my closest companion, ruler, and my king." You allow him to pull you out of your bed, and into his lanky form.

"Mmph, Puck. I can walk." You groan, trying to wriggle from his grasp. He tsks with his tongue, and shakes his head.

"No, no, no. Don't whine, don't go away. Be good. It's a long stroll all the way to the spring we're going to, just relax." He cackles. "You humans are so indecisive. Just a moment ago you were whining, 'Puck, no. It's too late, I'm a human, I need my sleep.', now you won't let me carry your frail, tired self to see the king. Make up your mind."

You roll your eyes, but suppose he has a point, and allow yourself to melt into his warm embrace, shoulders flush against his pecs.

As he slips back through the window and dances through the glen, weaving through trees and brush like a gust of cool night air, he soon arrives upon a clearing. Smooth rock reflect moonlight, as the water resting atop them comes from the babbling freshwater spring that rests at the edge of the rocks. A figure, imposing and much more muscular than Puck's is sat on one of the rocks, admiring the water.

Puck gently sets you down with nimble hands, kissing your ear lightly. This causes you to squeak and push him off.

"Stop it, Puck! I-im about to meet a king and your acting like we're lovers! Like your an enamored schoolboy!" You exclaim, and his hands only wrap around your waist from behind, playing with the cloth there.

"And here I thought we were lovers..." He feigns a sad face and a pout, before jolting forward and taking you with him by the waist. "My king!" He yells.

The imposing figure looks over, causing you to freeze, mind not really in synch with body as Puck drags you forward. The king is truly a thing of beauty, rugged and piercing as if he were carved, not from stone, but from the wood that made up the forest which he called his domain. He wears a fur pelt around his waist, covering his only upper thigh and not leaving much to the imagination. His is decidedly hairy, and though beautiful is as rugged as a human man of the woods is expected to be. He has dark curls of hair not unsimilar to Puck's, but not as long. His eyes are a deep brown.

"Ah, Puck, my fair servant friend. I was almost afraid you had planned to trick me, having not shown yet." The king muses, legs spread casually and a hand resting against his chin.

Puck gasps, hand to his chest as if hurt. "Never, my liege. Well, at least not to you." Puck coos, sitting on the rock and curling up to the man's calve. The king runs his hands through the curls of the fae man, and you are taken aback by the sensuality of their interaction.

The king looks up. "And you, little mortal, must be my Pucks new favorite thing, hmm?" He asks, head tilted. You nod nervously as the man waves you closer. You bow, and he grins. "Good, good. I assume she knows who I am then? I am King Oberon, of this enchanted woods and over all of the seelie court. Though, my servant here told me you knew little to nothing of our people when asked you about us, so I doubt you'd know what the seelie court is."

You shake your head. "No, sir. All I know-" you glance at Puck, who is practically purring at his kings touch. "All I know is what Puck has told me. That you are powerful, and to be respected."

Oberon grins at this. "That is all you need know. Come here, allow a king to gaze upon you." His hands begin to wander, cupping your face. His large fingers prod your plump lips, your cheeks, and tilts your chin downwards to look at him from where he is sat. Then, the hand is on your shoulder, playing with the straps of your upper garment, then at your chest. This sudden touch in such an intimate place causes you to jolt back. Oberon raises a brow.

"I'm sorry, sir. That is, that is just a very intimate place for humans. It's for sensual matters, when between two adults." You try to explain. Puck sighs, leaning his head on Oberons knee while the king chuckles.

"I am aware. It is intimate and sensual for fae too. That is why you were being touched there." He says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Now, you are only more confused.

"Well, intimacy of those matters between humans happens between a-a married couple, and even then, it should not be openly discussed. A woman like myself couldn't, shouldn't ever bee with a stranger like that, not even a suitor before marriage!"

"I have heard humans are... less indulgent in the passions of life than fae. All those awful, boring rules. And yet you kill your leaders and revolt because your miserable? Perhaps. Eing unable to express those urges is why." He laughs, and Puck joins in. He sense your confusion and continues. "Fae do not believing in brief enjoyment and indulgence. We live life to the fullest. Our liquor is stronger yet we drink more, our food is richer, yet we all eat like kings. And most of all, we indulge in the passions of the flesh with each other more than your little mind could take. I think if you had the opportunity, you'd see it was the best way to live." He muses.

To your suprise, he suddenly moves Puck up from his calve to his lap, holding the thin man by the waist as Puck grins wickedly. "You see, me and my servant here are close, emotionally and physically. We have enjoyed many a night of passion, without the watchful eye of my queen, of course." There is some bitterness in Oberon's tone at the mention of his queen.

"You... you indulge in passion with those, of the same gender as you, o-often?" You ask. It is not wrong, you are just so suprised and curious. You are not even supposed to think about a man pleasing a woman, let alone a man and another man. It is such a foreign idea.

"Mhmm. Being a king is hard for his majesty, and Puck... I, am happy to help him with his desires. My king cares for me, and I care for him." Puck says, before gasping and cutting off. You blush, seeing Oberons hand has slipped below Pucks leafy loincloth, hand stroking Puck manhood. He focuses only on the tip for now.

"I am suprised seeing as you are so shocked by how touchy and sensual fae are, seeing as you bedded my dear servant." Oberon says, and you immediately shake your head.

"No! I've never, me and Puck did nothing together. We drank a little, but he took me home." You exclaim, and look st Ouck for answers. He's too busy letting out soft whimpers and moans as Oberon moves his hand the full length of Pucks cock, paying attention to his bulbous tip.

"Is this true, Puck? I find it hard to believe, my servant can't keep his hands to himself. I suppose this makes you seem even more special to me, that my Puck would wish to see you again so desperately, and rave about you to me even if he had not bedded you yet. That begs the question though..." He leans in to Puck's ear. "Why did you lie to your king?"

Puck groans, brows furrowing. "M' sorry, your majesty! I knew you were so busy, and if I told you I had found a mortal capable of giving such incredible pleasure, you'd be more likely to come and see what a treasure I had found." He stammers. The king shakes his head, slowing his movements on Puck's cock.

"You know better than to lie to a king with a temper, Puck."

Puck cries out, bucking his hips and trying to chase that friction against his kings rough hands. "N-no sir! Trust me, I know if she'd just indulge, the mortal would be wonderful! She... she could be our mortal, not just mine! Please sir, I'll be good, she'll be good, don't stop." He begs.

Oberon sighs, still frowning in Pucks direction but intrigued nonetheless. "Alright, mortal girl. I yell you, if you would only let go, indulge just a bit in the pleasures of the fae, you would live a better life overall. And, should you please a king of the woods, perhaps your... what is it your mother does? Herbs? Perhaps they would see a better yield. An enchantment perhaps?" He offers.

You gulp, body hot with both arousal at the sight before you and anxiety. "I couldn't. What would the people in town think, I-I would be outcast!"

"Who would know? Even if someone were to find out, no one would believe a quiet gardeners daughter slept with a wicked spirit." The king teases, tongue poking out from between his lips slightly. He pulls you to him, and you offer no resistance. "For an untouched maiden, I assure you there is no one better to introduce you to a world of pleasure than the king, and his most loyal servant."

As he says this, the moaning Puck latches his lips onto your neck, continuing to moan as he sucks the soft flesh. You gasp.

"Oh, oh, gods." You squeak, the sensitive skin of your nape never having been touched, much less kissed in such a way.

"No gods, here, mortal. No angels or demons, only fae. Only the spirits of nature." He leans into your ear, kissing the shell. "Only your king."

Soon, a rough hand gets your skirt pooled around your knees, kneading the fat of your thigh and preparing to spread your legs and allow the fae king and his srmervant a view of the untouched treasure that lies there. You shiver as the cold air brushes across your stomach, you've never felt so exposed.

"See, highness? I told you, she's the perfect, pretty little mortal. Tease her, please? For me? I want to see her face as she experiences pleasure for the first time." Puck begs.

Oberon raises a brow and the request. "Such demands from a liar who has already been granted mercy, and is still being pleasure bu the hands of a king." He pulls his hand from Ouck's cock, causing tears to well in the edged faes eyes, having been denied his release.

"Majesty-"

"Enough. I will allow you to tease and prep the maiden, so she may except you king. Before you say anything, be grateful I don't only allow you to watch, or send you home." Puck whines, but grins a little inside. He knows the king enjoys his presence to much to remove him from this sensual scene.

Oberons large hands keep your shoulders flat against the warm stones of the spring, while Puck, still hard beneath his tented loincloth, crawls unceremoniously up between your thighs.

"What are you doing, Puck?" You whisper out softly, looking into his dazzling green eyes. He smiles warmly, pressing his cheek to one of your thighs.

"I assure you, maiden, my wicked tongue is not only good for japes and jabs." He coos. You are still confused at what he could mean, until the two thin fingers parting your folds are replaced with a hot, wet muscle. Puck licks a stripe teasingly up your center, savoring the flavour but eyes never leaving your face.

Oberon smiles down as he watches your face contort and wrinkle at the new sensation.

"Puck, y-your majesty, what is- oh, what is he doing?" You ask, trying to form a coherent sentence at the odd feeling of pressure and friction against both your clit and your entrance as Puck explores your folds.

"It's called cunnilingus, maiden. Fae have many ways to pleasure each other, but many enjoys the feel of one's mouth on their most intimate areas." He chuckles as he watches Puck tasting you curiously. "Sometimes, I find filling his mouth is the only way to quiet him." Puck giggles, and the vibrations make your legs quake.

Soon, the muscle invades your entrance, as Puck is now groaning almost as much as you. It's a gentle stretch, but both Ouck and Oberon know it will be necessary for what the king is to do later. Your aroused and needy clit is not forgotten by the fae pleasuring you, as a free hand comes to tweak it gently. The feeling is overwhelming, and soon, that knot inside you snaps, and you feel a high you've never known. It feels as though currents, waves run through your body as your maidenhood spasms around Pucks tongue.

He removes it, but continues to lap at your spent clit, tasting the juices of your climax. Oberon smiles.

"Was he good, maiden? Did you first touch by a man satisfy?" He asks. You can only weakly nod. "Ah, answer, maiden. Your being addressed by a royal."

"It was... it was very good, m-majesty." You gasp out. You look away at the sheer lewdness of the sight and Oberon crashes his lips to Pucks so that he may taste you on his servants lips.

"She was a divine nectar, my liege." Puck groans, pulling away from the kiss and now trading spots with his king. Now Puck lays by your shoulders, playing with your locks and kissing your neck and jawline while Oberon moves into place.

His chisled body places itself atop you, his sheer size dwarfing you and removing the moonlight from your body, casting a large shadow. You gulp.

"I... I've never done-" he chuckles, cutting you off.

"I'm aware, mortal. All that talk of purity led me to that conclusion. But, you won't be that innocent for long. I will be gentle, but it will hurt at first when you accept me into your sweet cunt. It's all part of the process."

You tense a little at the feeling of something hard, much more rigid than Pucks limp tongue, prodding at your entrance and folds.

"M' scared." You admit. This seems to soften the sensual yet cold king, and he sighs. Even Puck gives him a sad, wide eyes look. He leans down.

"Don't worry, mortal. I will be as gentle as any man has been with a woman. My Puck was never one to be nervous, but I have had lovers in the past who were. I will take care of you." He says.

Puck holds your hand and nuzzles his cheek to yours to provide a semblance of comfort. "It's true. The king is a fair and gentle lover when he wants to be. Don't worry, my friend." He assures.

Oberon strokes your thighs to relax soon, and soon the tip enters your weeping slit. You whine, the intrusion burns a little, especially as he adds a few inches every so often. But, he is slow, and talks you through it.

"Shh, it's alright. Your taking me so well, especially since I am endowed with more than some. Such a good mortal girl, it will feel good once you've stretched to accommodate a fae's cock." He coos.

As he begins to gently thrust, the slightly pain gives way to a burning pleasure. You whimper, his thrusts rocking your ads back against the stone of the spring. His large, curved tip is hitting the right spots, cervix getting pounded by the large man of the forest.

"O-oh, shit! Oberon, please- please, m-more! I need all, all of you in me!" You cry, and he chuckles.

"That's your womb speaking. This is your first time, you couldn't possibly accommodate all of me. But I will give you what I think, ugh, what I think you can take." He thursts become rhythmic, rolling in and out of your stretched tunnel, as Puck holds you steady and plays gently with your chest.

Oberon humps against you a few more times, moaning at Pucks encouragement. "She is so close, sire. I can tell, she's all tense and red, come on! Give it to her, let her take you. Please." It's clear Puck is still needy from not having gotten his release earlier. Still, he seems satisfied watching the king fuck his newest treasure.

"Mortal, mortal. You squeeze like a vice, such a warm, needy cunt. You needed this, to feel such pleasure, didn't you? Needed a cock to fill this cunt?" He moans. "It was fate, wasn't it, Puck? Finding this maiden, all alone. It was fate for you to be brought to us." Puck nods as his master continues.

"Your majesty, I'm gonna- its happening again." You cry, and his pace doesn't slow.

"I know, I know. I'm, fuck-" one last thrust sends the king over the edge. He groans, feeling your tunnel convulse around him as his thick white cum fills you. Puck plants quick, overwhelming kisses across your face as you climax, secretly wondering what you would look like if you bore the king's child.

Soon, Oberon pulls out, and you lay there, trembling and on the verge of sleep. Puck leans down and plants a final kiss upon your lips. He smiles.

"Sleep, little mortal. It's okay, you are safe with me and my king. I'll return you to your bed, pretty one." He strokes your hair softly, until your tired eyes close and stay closes. He sighs, and looks at the king. It's clear he could go for a fee more rounds.

"Majesty, our poor mortal needed this so badly, her body was on fire for it. We can't... we can't well let her go back to her little cottage, all alone in the dangerous wood with no one to please her. She's trusting, and she broke all the rules of interacting with fae so quickly, what if a worse one came along and-"

"Puck!" Oberon exclaims, making the imp jolt and go silent. Oberon sighs. "I am not a fool. I know how much this unique mortal has captivated the two of us. You need not convince me to take her back to my palace. As fair as Titania will be concerned, she is a plaything for you, correct? I will not have her cursing this treasure." Oberons muscular arms cradle your slumbering form.

"Majesty, I know of your endurance. Perhaps when we get back to the palace, while our maiden rests, I may please you." Puck asks, eyes wide and innocent.

Oberon scoffs. "All this acting because I didn't allow you to finish, Puck?" Oberon says, seeing through Pucks facade of goodwill and selflessness. Puck pouts.

"Isn't it tempting, though?"

"Perhaps."

[seungfl0wer]

*Han Calling You Clingy*

Pairing: Han x Reader (GN)

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Cursing, Alcohol, Reader Gets drunk, Not proof Read

Buckled up for this one yall it hurted me ngl. I also while putting it all together realized i in fact of course messed up a part of the messages. So I am sorry in advance 🥲

This is part of a series. Find the others here:

Bangchan, Changbin, Minho, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin

-🩵

Today was Han and yours 3 year anniversary. You had planned a nice dinner and a surprise for him after you both got home. You made reservations at one of his favorite restaurants and even got a new outfit for it. Hans been busy with the new album the last few weeks, he’s been super stressed and you know this would definitely help wind him down a bit.

You had told him a few times about the dinner because he forgets things easily. He was doing some work at the studio right now but he said he’d meet you there for dinner since he had to finish some things up. You put on your cute outfit and got yourself all ready to leave the house. You texted him “I’m leaving the house now! See you soon😘” before heading out.

About 15 mins had passed since you had gotten there for your reservation. You had gotten seated and gotten a drink. You were getting nervous that he had forgotten so you texted him a simple “hey babe did you leave yet?” It was radio silent after another 10 minutes you texted again.

Everything in you wanted to cry I mean you had a few tears but you quickly wiped them away. You sat there for a moment in honest shock of what to do. The love of your life is standing you up, yelling at you and forgot your anniversary. What the actual fuck. You waved the waiter over, got the check for your drink and left. You didn’t wanna go home you wanted to find jisung and punch him in his cute stupid face.

Driving home you stopped at a park close to your house. You sat there and cried. You cried hard your chest heaving feeling like your heart was thrown at the wall and smashed with a bat. You punched your steering wheel and just deflated. You had gotten a call from a friend of yours who asked if you and ji wanted to go to the bar with him and his gf. You sniffled trying not to cry on the phone but he knew something was up. He drove to where you were, him and his gf both were friends of yours. So when you saw them you just bursted into tears again.

The consoled you for a bit before asking what you wanted to do. “You know what- fuck it let’s go to the bar” you said. You wanted to numb the pain just wanted to drink everything away. To come home and just puke all of jisung stuff. The both nodded, they followed you to your house to drop your car off and drove to the bar. It didn’t take long for you to start taking shots back. You just wanted to forget the night and to forget Jisung.

It was late, you were plastered you had gotten a text from Jisung who must have just gotten home to see the surprise you had laid out for him. You had gotten him a new guitar that he’s been wanting it was placed on the bed with a note. The note read.

“Hannie! The actual love of my life. I can’t believe it’s been 3 years! Were you surprised? I bet you were! I just wanted to tell you I love you so much. I appreciate you and I know you’ve been working so hard so I hope today relieved some of that stress. I love you my sweets. Happy 3 years! I hope for many many more. -love your amazing loving girlfriend.”

Han choked back tears realizing what he had done. He had forgotten your anniversary but most importantly he had yell at you when all you were trying to do was make him happy. He broke down in tears, curled up on the floor in a little bawl. He could feel his chest tightening, he was scared. He didn’t know where you were, what you might have done or if you were safe.

Your phone ended up dying not knowing the floods of texts you were about to get. You didn’t know it but you started to cry. Your friends helped you to the car, the boy not drinking at all that night drove you to their place. He put you in the guest room while the girl put some water by your bed, a bucket and put your phone on the charger. You curled up knocked out cold from crying and the alcohol. You woke up around 5am feeling your head pounding. You couldn’t remember much of anything from the night.

You picked your phone up not even looking at the texts and called Jisung. He answered it immediately in a frenzy. “Y/n!” He said his voice horse from crying. Your head spun as you slurred “ji can come to (friend’s name) I wanna cuddle.” Jisung was confused but he didn’t ask questions “of course I’ll be there in 5.” He said basically sprinting to his car. “Mkay, ima gonna walk down to the door.” You said fumbling to get to your feet. Jisung drove like a madman he even ran a red light.

His heart dropped seeing you slumped over trying to stay awake at the door “hey I’m here” he said as he opened the door taking your hand. You fell into his chest holding onto him with a death grip. You started to sob, you cried so hard but in your dazed state you didn’t know why you were crying.

Jisung clung to you rubbing your back trying not to cry himself, he pulled you to the car getting you to sit in the back. Where you promptly laid down and just cried. Jisung drove just as fast as home one hand on the wheel and the other rubbing your head to try to calm you. Your cries had almost completely stopped as you pulled into your place. Jisung left out a soft sigh the tears he was choking back were bursting at the seems. He held them back until he got you safely into the room laying you down.

He wanted to leave you alone knowing you were hurting still but you quickly pulled him into bed with you. He curled up with you as you both laid there, your eyes half opened “I’m sorry for being so clingy” you said. Your voice sounded so sad so meek. “I don’t wanna ever be a bother to you” you kept going on. The tears he had choked back finally broke and it started to flood.

He held you close crying hard trying to get out the words he wanted to say “don’t you dare apologize” he croaked out. “You did absolutely nothing wrong, it was all me” he said rubbing your head. “Don’t you think for a second you did anything.”

You both ended up drifting to sleep both of your heads spinning as you woke up. You looked over at jisung his eyes puffy and his chest still heaving from the nights happenings. You read through all the messages he had sent and sighed softly. You were still hurt by his words and it was gonna take some to comeback from but he was genuinely sorry. The way he clung to you told you that alone. He was afraid you were gonna leave. That thought really never crossed your mind but he knew he fucked up bad enough that it could be a reason to leave. He’s never yelled before let alone said anything mean towards you. You knew he was hurting from what he said but so were you.

You thought to yourself though laying there in his arms “i do very much love him but he’s gonna have to do some heavy groveling to make it up to you” you smiled a bit.

💙 if you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open feel free to send me something🩵

[del-thetiredwriter]

Mafia Au/Good luck while running away from mafia part 5

İntro, Part 0.5 , Part1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , part 4

Warnings: yandere stuff, my not too good English, mentions of death , fighting stuff, too long?..

Tags: @hrhqueenfox , @hasty-desert , @oceanside-pixie , @lianreine , @h3apm3ch4n151m , @cecilebutcher , @ayachansan , @roseapov , @randomlyappearingartist , @serenity-loves-red , @wonderlandcrown , @nightw-izhu , @moonlight-nightwing , @lorkai , @lucid-stories , @morokumi, @lloyura , @juliechi , @noemiaaomi , @eternal-ways @stingywiththeirusername , @00hellohello00 , @bougrell , @akumo-shioki , @beutifulthingsiadore, @kchan3s , @aryuunachigiri , @literallyangy , @sxftiebee

The sound of hard and fast footsteps echoed in the hallway. You suddenly opened the wooden door. The dark-skinned man sitting in the room was startled by your sudden opening of the door. However, he grinned when he saw that it was you who entered.

“Oh my little imp~ what wind brought you here?”

He opened his arms affectionately. However, you did not answer. You closed the circuit breaker of the room. Then you drew the curtains.

“Uh Y/n?”

After looking around for a while, you sat on the chair across from him.

“Please give me your phone.” You said coldly.

“Uh Y/n, you are acting really weird right now-“

You cut him off.

“Please give me your phone and any recording device you have, otherwise I am not responsible for what happens Sam-san.”

He gave you his phone in confusion. After closing up his phone , you threw the file in your hand on the table between the two of you.

“This?”

“I will be frank. We both know you sent this, Sam-san. The seal gives you away, I think you used it. To get me to come to you. Explain. Is what it says here true?”

The dark skinned man grinned. He leaned back in his chair.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

You pulled a check from your pocket and placed it on the table.

“Talk.”

The man’s eyes lit up when he saw the check.

“Oh, they really pay you well, huh? Okay, let’s talk then. Yes, I sent it and you know I do my job well, everything it says there is true.”

You clenched your teeth . You tensed up because you heard something you didn’t want to hear, but you had to stay calm.

“Someone must have asked you to send me these documents, otherwise I don’t think you would send me this just to do me a favor. Tell me, who was the client who asked you to look into these documents and send them to me?”

“Oh, my little devil, please you’re breaking my heart. I’m not that bad of a person, but yes, a client of mine asked me to look into this, but I can’t tell you who it is.”

“How much do you want?”

“Oh sweetie, I can’t answer this question even if you give me your entire bank account, I’m sorry. Another question?”

“Why? Why would they do something like that? The executives… why would they frame me? What have I ever done to them?” You were trying to control your voice.

“Well, I don’t know. No one knows what’s going through those maniacs minds. But it’s not a complete lie, I mean I’m talking about your blood relationship with that man-“

“I eliminated that man, and as my first duty! I didn’t even know about that man… until I got my hands on these documents. But I never betrayed the organization. Why?.. so who knows about the current situation?”

“So as far as I know, the executives naturally. Me, you and my Client.”

“So are you and your client on my side?”

“I don’t know about my client, but I only care about my money and of course it depends on the risk involved.”

You stood up. You adjusted your suit.

“You won’t tell anyone about our conversation today, Sam-san. Also, I have a job for you. I want you to report to me every step the executives take. Understood? if you do anything wrong-“

You took out your voice recorder from your pocket.

“I’ll drag you with me. Understood? Good. If anyone asks, I was here for the tea.”

You walked towards the door. Sam stood up at your words.

“Hey, how am I supposed to follow all of them at the same time? Hey Y/n!”

He tried to protest. You turned around before leaving.

“That’s your problem. And I’ll pay you as much as I can, don’t worry.”

And you left the information dealer alone in the room.

-

As you walked towards your office, you noticed that the door wasn’t locked. When you opened the door, you were met with Deuce. The moment you entered, the navy-haired Heartslabyul boy turned to you.

“Deuce? Why are you here?”

“Oh, hello Y/n. Trey-san made a strawberry cake. He asked me to bring it to you.”

“I see. Thank you…”

Your eyes drifted to the potted plant behind Deuce. He was busy with it until he noticed you had entered.

“By the way, how did you get in?”

“Oh, the door was unlocked.”

The door was unlocked , you thought to yourself.

“I see. If there’s nothing else, I’ll see you off. Don’t make Riddle-san mad with your absence, hmm?”

You tried to send him off.

“Oh, yeah…Right. See you then, Y/n.”

After sending the navy-haired boy away, you slowly walked towards the potted plant. You slowly started to water the plant.

You found the small black device you were looking for among the leaves. I found it, you said to yourself. Apparently there was an extra camera in your office. An unwanted camera…

- Current Timeline

“Look at the state of yourself . You’re a complete mess .” The black-haired beautiful boy criticized you.

“As if I care that much.” You replied indifferently. You were checking the cables of the machines while eating your sandwich.

“By the way, it was almost impossible to get into the city. I would like to point out that they have posted men at all the entrances and exits. How do you plan on getting out?”

The black-haired boy spoke again.

“That’s my problem Neige, just focus on your job.”

“…what exactly did you do that the entire mafia is after you right now? You’re the most talked topic in the underworld right now.”

You didn’t answer. You just focused on your job.

“Hey, I provided you with all that food, water, clothes, weapons and vehicle. Can I at least get a proper answer?”

Neige whined. But you just ignored him.

“By the way, this is an old abandoned place? What are we doing in this amusement park?”

The black-haired assassin asked.

“We’ll hunt.” You replied. You had completed the final checks by now.

“We’ll hunt? Aren’t you the one being hunted? Besides, you’re injured.”

“Just do what I said. I’ve already paid you and your boss owes me. Besides I thought you wanted to see Vil-san.”

The young assassin opened his mouth to say something but chose to remain silent.

“Whatever. Look, the plan is that either Ignihyde or Pomefiore will most likely attack. Diasomnia usually prefers to be the last one to show up . Your job is to help me escape from Vil-san, okay? It’s that simple.”

You explained your plan to him.

“They will catch you anyway. Why are you running away? Nonsense.”

You took a deep breath.

“I wish your mouth was as pretty as your face… Just do what I say, you understand.”

The young assassin shrugged and you two started to wait.

“Here they come.” You said as you watched the footage of the camera you had repaired

“You’re lucky. Vil-san came too.” You said as you cut the cable of the camera you had repaired earlier.

“Uh, why did you only fix one camera and then cut the cable again?”

Neige pointed to the cable you had cut.

“There’s a good chance they’ll split up and someone will come here to check. Anyway, let’s get to work.”

-

“So, they are hiding here?”

The Rookie assassin asked as he got out of the car.

“Mmh. According to the road records we got, yes.” The blonde sniper confirmed.

“Anyway, there’s only one entrance and exit to this place, and that’s here. Rook, you stay here. Epel, you’re coming with me.”

The Pomefiore executive said.

“I can do this job on my own-“

Epel tried to object.

“Are you stupid? Even though they are injured, Y/n was trained by Divus Crewel himself. If you go one-on-one with them, your chances of winning are very low.”

Vil stopped him.

“I don’t think there’ll be any problems. If there’s a problem, we’ll notice it through our communication devices. Let him do what he wants.”

The sniper intervened. The blonde manager sighed.

“Okay. But your communication device will always be on, is that clear?”

-

The young assassin walked forward with confident steps. What a big amusement park, he thought. He headed towards a tent that looked like a large circus tent that caught his eye up ahead. Perhaps the person he was looking for was here.

Y/n L/n is the right-hand man of Boss Crowley, the apple of eye of the executives, and according to some rumors, Crowley's heir. Before Epel met them. he found them annoying. He thought it was ridiculous that all executives were circling around one person, but after meeting them , he understood why. Y/n wasn't perfect, but there was something about them that drew people to them, something he couldn't quite put his finger on...

Y/n was affectionate, they would intervene whenever Vil would scold him or punish him. Sometimes they would bring him gifts from their business trips. They would have regular movie nights with the other rookies…but everything was ruined. Y/n ruined everything. They betrayed them...

When Epel entered the big tent, he was sure that it was an old circus tent. He started looking around… I guess they are not here, he thought to himself. He had just turned around when something fell on him from above. Someone.

The young assassin jumped back reflexively.

He was speechless when he saw the person in front of him.

“Oh, it’s just you. I thought it was Vil-san and got excited. Anyway, let’s finish this quickly.”

Neige LeBlanche. The best assassin in the underworld outside of Vil. The assassin who was always compared to Vil by many people. Just like Vil’s nickname was Poisoned Apple, Neige’s was Snow White. He was also the assassin of the rival mafia.

“So Y/n really did betray us, huh?” Epel said nervously.

The black-haired assassin didn’t answer. He just smiled…

-

Vil walked forward with firm and confident steps. For some reason, he had a feeling that the person he was looking for would be here, in the mirror maze. He stopped and focused. There were faint footsteps…they are here, he thought to himself.

He focused on where the footsteps were coming from…Clank!

“Oh, I broke the wrong mirror.” And again, and again…

The sound of mirrors breaking echoed through the maze.

And again, Clank!

You jumped back.

“Oh, I found you!” He grinned mischievously, like a child who had finally gotten a toy he had wanted for a long time.

He swung his dagger at your injured shoulder, but you managed to dodge.

“Bastard.” You said.

He grinned. You dodged as he attacked.

You could have attacked him if you wanted, but no. Vil’s goal was to distract you. You had to focus on and avoid his attacks . At least until Neige came.

Vil’s nickname wasn’t poisoned apple for nothing. He would kill his victims by poisoning them. He would also poison most of the weapons he used. So that dagger should never touch you.

You jumped back again. But suddenly Vil stopped.

“Look at you, nch nch nch… you are a mess. How much can you resist me, hmm? Besides, you are injured. If you surrender, even though you are a traitor, I can help you with your punishment. ”

“Traitor? Oh no, you are the one who betrayed. You betrayed me! All of you! I am only saving myself.” You said harshly.

Vil’s face tightened when he heard the word betrayal.

“We didn’t betray you. We just took precautions.”

You laughed unwillingly at his words.

“Precautions? Who do you think you are kidding? I heard those conversations with my own ears. Whether you accept it or not. You stabbed me from my back . I was going to be declared a traitor one way or another.”

Vil started to attack aggressively again, and you got defensive.

Where was Neige?..

Vil tried to hit his injured shoulder again, and just as you were about to retreat, a voice came.

“Vil-san!”

Neige LeBlance had finally arrived.

You backed away while Vil was distracted by the voice.

The black-haired assassin quickly attacked the blonde assassin.

“You’re late,” you said.

“Sorry, I ran into a little rookie on the way. Well, the rest is up to me. You can leave.” Neige replied.

“So you’re working with RSA, huh? And you’re saying you didn’t betray us!” Neige’s presence was more than enough to drive Vil crazy. You knew that very well. That was one of the reasons you wanted Neige. He was Vil’s greatest enemy.

You grinned and ran away from the mirror maze.

-

As you expected, you saw the blonde sniper at the entrance. He was waiting cross-legged.

He must have noticed your arrival because he stood up and smiled. There were only a few meters between you.

“It’s been a long time, huh? You have no idea how much I missed you.”

“I suggest you run, Rook. Vil obviously placed you here just in case, but I advise you not to waste time with me. I don’t know how your little rookie Epel is doing right now.”

The blonde man’s eyebrow rose at your words.

“What do you mean by ‘I don’t know’?”

You grinned to break the sniper’s composure.

“It’s true that I can’t ‘harm’ him, but who knows what an enemy assassin might do to him? If I were you, I’d hurry up and find him, otherwise…” you didn’t finish the sentence. Your words were enough to make the sniper nervous.

He looked at you one last time.

“You’ll get caught sooner or later, you know that.”

He said and walked away to find the young rookie as soon as possible.

And as for you, You got into the car you asked Neige to provide for you and drove away.

-

“Agh! You’ve got to be kidding me!” Ashton Vargos, once again frustrated, took the money from his losing bet out of his wallet and reluctantly handed it to Sam.

“It’s going pretty well so far, huh? But some people seem to be in a bad mood.” Crowley sipped his tea.

“Stop messing with Crewel, Crowley.”

Mozus Trein said.

“Trein-sensei, I didn’t do anything.” Crowley said mischievously.

“ You are truly the devil himself .” Trein sighed.

“You’re breaking my heart, Trein-sensei. I’m a real gentleman. Everyone knows that.” Crowley said, his voice wasn’t like the voice of someone who was upset, but rather a mocking tone.

“Of course, whatever you say. It's not like you killed the previous Boss and framed Ramshackle, who was the biggest threat to your seat. Now you're doing the same to them ... are you having fun?" Mozus Trein said. His voice was calm, perhaps because of his age.

"Very much. I'm having so much fun."

[hearts4werka]

NNN day 15 | Unspoken Words

“A pathetic what? Loser? Nerd? All bullshit labels you and your friends love throwing around?”

summary: it’s pouring rain outside and you’re in a heated argument with the so-called ‘loser skater boy’ of the school, Chris about your popular friend group constantly picking on him but you don’t know what you could possibly do about it, in the heat of the moment you accidentally confess your love for him that you’ve been bottling inside of you for ages now, how will Chris react to the sudden confession?

warnings: ANGST, heavy language, pouring rain, arguing, angry love confession, kissing, mentions of bullying & possibly more!

authors note: bro this is coming out so late I’m so sorry I seriously am having trouble keeping up with posting fics everyday I might just change the schedule for every two days so I have time to write the fic so from now on I’ll post NNN fics every two days and I’ll try to make them better too, luv y’all sm and hope y’all enjoy this one

The rain was relentless, pouring down in heavy falls as I stood at the edge of the high school parking lot, glaring at him. Chris, the loser skater dude sat leaned against the slick metal of his beat-up board as water streamed down from his dark hair. It was a pathetic sight, really, the way he was looking at me through the downpour like he truly believed I’d stand there and listen to him whine while my friends were making his life miserable just a few feet away. “Chris, it’s not my fault they’re dicks! Just stand up for yourself!” I yelled, the wind whipping my words back into my face. I could see him flinch at the sharpness in my tone, but honestly? He was pissing me the fuck off right now.

“Easy for you to say,” he spat back, his voice rising above the rain. “You think I want to get into it with them? They’ve made my life hell since middle school. And here you are, acting like you’re above it all.” “Whatever, Chris! You could actually do something about it, but instead, you stand there like a pathetic—” before I could finish my sentence, he cut right into the middle of it. “A pathetic what? Loser? Nerd? All bullshit labels you and your friends love throwing around?” My heart raced as the fight quickly escalated, frustration spilling out of me like the rain pouring down but hee wasn’t wrong, I could feel my friends laughing as they made comments, snickering at his expense as they walked past us.

I was too stubborn to admit that it bothered me, to admit that I felt trapped between two worlds — my friends who I felt loyal to, and Chris, whose passion for skating and the freedom he radiated off him drew me in. “Why don’t you just tell them to stop?” I snapped, fists clenched at my sides. “Oh, right!” he emphasized each word through gritted teeth, “Because you know they’d listen to me. ‘Oh, look at the loser! What a joke!’” He was pacing now, waves of frustration beaming from him as he glared at me. I could tell he was hurt and that made it worse for me. This wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation, it seemed every time we met, our discussions turned into a bickering fight.

“Why can’t you just grow a backbone for once?” I found myself shouting, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. Chris was the one person I didn’t want to keep fighting with. There was something inside me that pricked me at the thought of him being hurt—something that made me want to shield him from the world, even if I was part of the problem. “I get it, you’re popular, you have to keep up your perfect appearance.” His voice was cold and I hated that I could see right through it. “But that doesn’t mean you need to stand by while they bully someone who hasn’t done anything to you.”

The weight of his words hung between us, and for a moment, we both bathed in the silence, thunder rumbling in the background and threatening to strike. My breaths came ragged, and I could feel the frustration boiling over, a fierce mix of feelings I’d contained far too long. “Do you even care about them?” I shot back, suddenly feeling more bold, “I mean, seriously, do you care that I’m their friend? Or is it just about you being the victim here?” “Maybe if you gave them less attention, they’d stop. Ever think about that?” he shot back with a knife that cut deeper than any of my friends’ insults.

I took a step closer as rain soaked through my clothes, breath hitching as the heat between us crackled. “You think I’m just some heartless bitch, don’t you? You think I enjoy having these petty losers as friends? You know nothing about me,” I spat. He stepped forward, our faces inches apart as the storm raged around us. “So what’s stopping you from saying something? You’re the one with the power in this situation, right?” And just like that, the last strings broke inside me. I wanted to scream, I wanted to shake him and make him understand. “You don’t get it at all, Chris! Maybe I don’t always know what the fuck to do! Maybe—” My voice trembled and before I could think about the honesty I’m about to spill, I continued, “Maybe I just didn’t know how to tell you I liked you!”

His eyes widened, surprise sparkling in them and my heart tripped over itself at my confession. My cheeks burned and beneath the rain, I could feel the silence swallow us whole. The storm around us was like background noise as everything I pooled inside of me far too long, unraveling and honest. My breath caught as he closed the distance, moving so smoothly it caught me off guard. “What are you do—” Before I could finish, he tilted my chin up and pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was sudden as if he was attempting to drown out all the noise in my head, all the rambling I would never stop. It felt electric, warmth pulsing through my veins that made the rain fade into nothing.

When he finally pulled away, my pulse immediately started to race. I blinked up at him, confusion swirling inside of me. “Wait… Did you just really kiss me to shut me up?” He smirked, a shimmer of playfulness in his blue eyes. “Maybe,” he replied and I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension slowly dissolving into something lighter, something filled with hope. “So, popular girl, what now?” I hesitated but with a new fire building inside of me I grinned and said, “We show those little bastard who not to mess with.” And as the rain poured and drenching us both, I realized that maybe, just maybe, we’d figure it out together.

@hearts4werka |

𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 🏷️ | - @sturnsxplr-25 - @strnzzvsp - @luvvs4chriss - @sturniolosweetheart33 - @pussypie456 - @venusxsturnio - @bagsbyclair0 - @sturnstvs - @dykes4chris - @hoe4matt - @cayleeuhithinknott - @strnilolover - @marrykisskilled - @phone4pills - @emely9274 - @cupiidk1lls - @lily-strnlo - @nicksgirlfriend - @sturniolosiphone - @sophand4n4 - @zombiesturniolo - |

[moonstruckme]

You asked for holiday fic ideas…

I was thinking ice skating with lanky Remus and he’s just so good at it and it’s shocking but clumsy reader keeps falling down. Just something fluffy and cute

(I know ice skating isn’t technically just for the holidays but that’s what I think of typically)

Love you darling <3

I think of ice skating that way too! Thanks for requesting <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 548 words

“You weren’t supposed to be so graceful, you know.” 

Remus smiles, skating alongside you while you grip the wall of the small outdoor rink for support. Sunlight refracts off the ice, making it look glittery and almost blindingly white, and at the top of the rink is stationed a plump fir tree, standing tall despite the oversized ornaments weighing it down. It had been your idea to book the two of you an hour-long slot in the rink, and you’d been even more excited about the plan when you found that Remus, like you, had never been ice skating before. Unfortunately, it seems he’s let you down by not being a complete disaster at it. 

“Would you rather I was falling all over the place?” he asks you. 

“Yes,” you answer. No hesitation, but you make it up a sheepish smile. “You have a higher center of gravity. It doesn’t seem fair that you’re naturally gifted.” 

“Right, I see. I’ll try to make more of an oaf of myself.” 

“I’d appreciate if you would.” You’re smiling. It crinkles the corners of your eyes adorably. “We were supposed to hold hands and be awkward and clumsy together. It’s not cute if it’s only me.” 

“Of course it is,” Remus says, softly enough that you look at him like you’ve not quite heard. He touches your shoulder fondly. “I’m sorry to have ruined your plan. We can still hold hands, if you like.” 

You look like you’re considering it, but you don’t take your hand more than a few inches away from the barrier before it’s flying back. “Thanks, but I think I need them both.” 

Remus can see how you would. You’d given ice skating a valiant effort, but after a series of falls he’s sure will result in a patchwork of bruises around your knees for him to kiss later, the wall has become your most treasured ally. 

“Do you want me to grab something that will help?” 

“If you mean one of those penguins the kids are using, I’m going to cut our hour short.” 

Remus chuckles. “We can go, if you want to.” Although the sun feels nice, the wind is cold. He’s willing to bet that if he pinched the tip of your nose between his fingers it’d be half frozen. 

You look over at him in surprise, then soften. “I don’t actually want to leave,” you say. “I was only joking. This is fun.” 

“Is it?” 

“I don’t know, are you having fun?” 

“I am,” Remus admits. “But I can stand on my own two legs. Are you having fun?” 

You shoot him a playful glare, but your smile undermines it. “Yeah.” You shrug, self-conscious. “I mean, I’m a bit edgy, but I’m still glad we’re here. I always have fun with you.” 

Without his permission, a coo comes from between Remus’ lips. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, careful not to put any weight on you as he kisses your head. “Oh, you’re such a melt,” he says into your hair, teasing. You laugh but don’t push him away. 

Eventually, you let him take your hands. Remus isn’t good enough to skate backwards, so you stick close to the wall, wobbly and faltering, but that’s alright. Now you’re awkward and clumsy together.

[xgsturn]

good idea? - ( c.s )

summary: you couldn’t sleep so you decided to text chris asking if he wanted to smoke, it’s something you both always did and one thing lead to another.

warnings: SMUT, smoking (weed), oral (female receiving), pet names, (ma, baby), p n v (let’s not be silly wrap before u tap). probably more but idk

word count: 1,557

author’s note: this is my first one shot i’m scared LMFAOOO also i didn’t proofread sorry if there is any mistakes!!

please let me know if you want to be un added or added into the taglist. i had just decided to add my favorite writers!!

also my request & inbox are open 💓💓

-

i’ve been trying to fall asleep for the past 20 minutes. i’ve shifted and turned so many times i honestly lost count.

i open my eyes, groaning with annoyance. some nights i had trouble falling asleep, but there was always one solution to that problem.

i grab my phone, opening the messages app before quickly clicking chris’ contact.

this was a thing that happened every now and then. if one of us had troubles going to sleep i’d go over to his or vise versa. we’d smoke together and then usually get tired after that.

i hear a soft knock against my window signaling that he was here. i walked over to see chris sitting on the small balcony that was attached to the window.

i opened the window, climbing through feeling a slight breeze on my shoulders before shrugging it off.

“like i said you could’ve just used the door” i playfully roll my eyes at him.

“suck my dick” he replied back before sitting down on the ground. “when?” i said seriously. he raised his eyebrows and looked up at me.

“in all seriousness, you’re a life saver.” i sigh, sitting down, and relaxing my body.

he pulled out a fresh rolled joint from his sweatpants pocket, “i know” he smirked, putting the joint between his lips.

“lighter” he mumbles against the joint.

i toss him the lighter, watching as he lit it and inhaled before slowly blowing the smoke out.

i’ll never deny the fact that chris is hot, we had a flirty friendship from the beginning but nothing ever got to far.

he passes the joint to me, i relight it due to the wind causing it to ash out.

i inhale, feeling the smoke enter my lungs. i look at him as i blew it out.

the joint eventually dies out. i look over to chris, starting to admire the way the dim street light in front of him is showing off his features. his hair slightly messy, his eyes hanging low and red and fuck his lips-, he interrupts my thoughts.

“did you hear anything i just said?” he asks, his voice snapping me out of some trance i was in.

“sorry, what were you saying?”

“i asked if you wanted to go inside, it’s getting a little cold” he repeats himself, looking at me with his eyebrows furrowed.

“oh yeah, sorry just a bit distracted” i reply back covering my face from embarrassment.

as i’m climbing back into my room i feel chris’ gaze burning through me.

i get into my room and chris follows right behind me.

-

chris and i have been talking for the past 15 minutes. we both got onto our phones scrolling aimlessly, sitting in a comfortable silence.

i still can’t help to think about him, how his touch would feel on me, how his lips would feel against mine, how his long slender fingers would feel inside me.

i zoned out with a video playing over and over.

“what are you thinking about?” chris looked at me curiously through his low hooded eyes.

we were both still feeling the high effects.

what am i thinking about? i’m asking myself the same question. we have been best friends for years. i mean i’ve always found chris attractive, but tonight is different.

the way his body is leaned against the headboard, his biceps slightly flexing as he puts down his phone and crosses his arms, putting his full focus on me.

maybe it’s just the weed still lingering or maybe i just crave his touch.

“nothing.” i reply trying to act nonchalant but clearly not working.

“nothing, hm?” chris smiles loosely, as he looks down at my thighs then back up to my eyes, making heavy eye contact.

i follow his gaze down to my thighs, realizing how tightly squeezed they are.

i widened my eyes and look back up at him, before trying to relax the ache between my legs.

he puts his hand between my legs, spreading them open. he rotates his body, fully facing me now. his lips inches away from mine.

“is this a good idea?” i say studying his face for an answer.

“do you want this?” he replies in a serious tone.

“so bad but-.”

before i’m done speaking, i feel a hand on my jaw, pulling me closer to him and attaching my lips to his.

my body tenses from the sudden move but quickly relaxes soon after.

he bites my bottom lip softly, making my mouth part open giving him access to slip his tongue in.

he climbs on top of me, refusing to break the kiss.

our tongues fought for dominance before letting him win.

i tugged on his hair, signaling i wanted more. he groaned into my mouth, making me squeeze my legs around his waist. i couldn’t ignore the feeling between my thighs anymore.

“tell me what you want.” he spoke, trying to catch his breath. his lips pink and swollen.

i swallowed, “anything.” i feel desperate for him, wanting to feel some kind of relief.

“be more specific baby”

“need your fingers.” i mumbled quietly.

“good girl” he smirked, pulling my shorts down to my ankles. he slowly kisses my thighs going to the areas around my core.

he avoided where i needed him most.

“please.” i say while looking down at him through my lashes.

his hand still on the band of my pink thong. “can i take these off?” he whispered, looking at me. i nodded.

“i need to hear you say it ma”

“fuck, yes please” i practically beg.

he pushed my thong to the side before glazing one fingers over my entrance.

he slipped one fingers inside me slowly, letting me adjust. i moan into my hand muffling it.

he removes my hand from my mouth, putting it beside me. “i want your neighbors hearing how good i make you feel.”

i got even wetter after that sentence.

as i adjusted, i wanted more. “another one.. please” he listens to my commands and adds his second finger.

he started going faster, curling his fingers inside me and hitting that spongy spot each time. “f-fuck, chris.” i moan out, my fingers gripping my sheets.

he adds his mouth into the mix, sucking and licking my clit with such precision that made me start rolling my hips towards him.

my back was arching as he continued with his eyes fixed on my face.

i knew chris was experienced but i wasn’t expecting this.

my knees were already getting weak. “chris…” my hand going to his brown loose curls, tugging them. “i’m close.” i started to squirm underneath him.

“not yet.” he spoke against my cunt, sending vibrations through my entire body.

as soon as he said those words i couldn’t hold it anymore. the knot in my stomach eventually snapped, coating chris’ face and fingers with my cum.

“you can’t follow a simple rule?” his expression was stern and serious, while licking his fingers and mouth clean.

“i’m sorry, i couldn’t hold it” i reply, breathing heavy with worry all over my face.

he doesn’t say anything, instead he starts taking off his sweatpants following with his boxers. his dick springs free, hitting his stomach.

he was big and thick which honestly i wasn’t surprised about.

it was already leaking with pre cum. a vein coming from the tip to the base.

“think you can handle another?”

i move my eyes up to his face, “i- i don’t know if i can.” i stutter out.

“yes you can and you will” he says firmly.

his eyes darkened with lust, turning me on more.

i nod my head obeying him.

“which position do you want me in?”

“lay on your back so i can see your pretty face.” he slightly tilts his head and smirks.

the ache between my legs comes back causing me to clench my thighs again.

he notices and pushes his knee between my legs, leaving it against my bare cunt.

a pornographic moan leaving my mouth, as i try to grind against his knee to feel some kind of relief.

“be patient baby.” he strokes his dick a couple of times to fully harden it.

he removes his knee and bends down to push himself in.

we both moan feeling the pleasure that we were craving.

chris started thrusting his hips into mine at such a fast pace, and at this point i could cum at any minute.

he leans down and starts kissing my neck sloppily as he tries to remain at his pace.

“taking me so well.” he whispers into my ear.

“chris” that’s all i could say, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as my hips lazily jolted up meeting his thrust half way.

“hm? i fucked you dumb huh.” i nod as a response. i couldn’t even think of a sentence to prove him wrong.

he started rubbing on my clit fast. i threw my head back, my mouth hanging open but nothing coming out.

“cum for me ma.” he said maintaining eye contact, that was all i needed before i squirmed underneath him and came all over his dick. “that’s my girl” he whispered.

he groaned and let his head drop as came into me. i felt his warm liquid feel me up.

he dropped his body beside mine, turning to look at me. “holy fucking shit” he chuckled, catching his breath.

“so friends with benefits?” i suggest while also catching my breath. “fuck yes” he replies almost immediately, making me laugh beside him.

“here let’s go get you clean up” he says while getting up from the bed.

-

tag list!!

@lovingmattysposts @luv4kozume @worldlxvlys @strawberrysturniolo @luvmila444 @m4ttslvr @sturniol0s @fawnchives @hysteria-things

[liiixsturniolos]

•°○ THE LAKE ○°•

Matt Sturniolo

⚠︎ Warnings: angst, lots of fluff and cute moments, bf!matt x "y/n" reader

: Y/n overthinks an argument, Matt reassures her, and later, they make up and swim in the lake.

You and your boyfriend Matt were at the lake. You loved to go there every time you guys visited Boston. It was so calming for the both of you, looking out at the empty, calm, swaying blue water.

This time It wasn't calming. Matt was mad. Chris has been pissing him off all day long, just with little annoying brother stuff. Matt took it seriously though, to heart, and was getting more pissed off by every dumb comment Chris made.

Matt had to get away from him. He walked down to the dock and sat on the edge, staring off into the winding water.

"Hi matt!" You shriek out and run toward him, reaching out to hug him, a smile running across your face.

"No." He nudges off your hug, declining it.

Your smile drops immediately. What the fuck is his problem.

You stand there, kind of in shock. Wondering if you should speak, or maybe he's mad at you? You work up a little courage and blurt out "What's wrong?" With a slight shake in your voice.

"Doesn't matter. Can you leave me alone?" He says rudely. With a tone which made it sound like you were an annoyance to him.

"Oh..okay, yeah,sure.." You mumble with uncertainty. You slowly stroll away. Fighting all your urges to go back and ask him what's wrong. But you know you shouldn't ask, he told you to leave him alone so you do.

He spends an hour out on the Dock, mindlessly staring into the water. You got kind of freaked out by it, starting to overthink what was wrong with him.

What if he was going to break up with you? What did you do to make him upset?

These questions were all stupid, of course. You didn't do anything wrong, but your mind wanted you to believe you had. Anxiety swirled around your body, like the cold lake water, rushing to your head.

You sat there on the scuffed up old couch at the cabin, your thoughts relentless and taunting. You couldn't take it anymore. "Shit," you whisper, lifting up your numb legs and getting off the couch.

You start to walk, then stop, then start again, unsure, worried, shaking a little. You eventually get to the dock, Matts still sat there. As he was an hour ago. You could barely see him in the blueish hazy moonlight.

"Matt." You say, your voice shaky and nervy.

"What?" He asks.

You clear your throat before speaking, and a wave of anxiety floods through your body violently, causing you to twitch slightly.

"I'm sorry, I am. Whatever I did wrong. I don't know what I did, but I'm so sorry, Matt." You blurt out as fast as possible, merging some of the words together, trying to get it over with.

"What..?" He asks, turning back to look at you.

You panic. You couldn't tell through his tone of voice if he was confused or angry. His eyes were on you and you weren't sure what to say next.

"Um. I- I, I, I'm trying to apologise for whatever I did. You know. To annoy you." You stutter.

"Oh my god. Oh. Fuck. I'm sorry Y/n I really am. Shit. You did nothing wrong." He insists.

You sigh and gasp in relief. The flood of nerves rushed out of your head, you realised now how fucking dumb you looked, and the fact he wasn't mad at you was good, but you were suddenly aware of how much you overthought it all, and kind of wished he was mad at you now.

"Oh. That's good." You say with a blank expression. You had convinced yourself and worked yourself up so much you didn't know what else to say.

"I'm sorry, y/n. I was just so stressed today because of last week, the meeting I had with my manager, and Chris' annoying ass just pissed me off so bad today that I had to come out here to calm down." Matt explains, his brows burying into his forehead, searching for words. "Really, I didn't mean to act like this to you or be rude, I just was so stressed."

"Oh. Damn I really overthought all this shit didn't I." You chuckle awkwardly, embarrassed about this all.

"No! No, y/n you really didn't! I get it. I do this stuff, too. I acted weird and distant. Honestly, it's not your fault, baby." He insists and smiles lightly at you.

You smile back softly.

"Y/n..." he whispers at you in a playful tone, walking closer.

"Yeah?" You smirk and look into his blinding blue eyes.

He giggles, lifts you off of the floor, and into his arms. "Swim with meeee!" He asks.

You laugh, "it's like 11 pm, Matt!"

"So? He chuckles, spinning around and rocking you in his arms.

"Matt, be careful! You're gonna drop me in the lake!" You giggle.

"Would that be so bad?" He questions in a giggly tone.

He puts you back down gently, smiling at you, and looking down at your face, analysing every feature.

"Let's jump in the lake." He says abruptly.

You look at him, shocked. He usually doesn't do spontaneous things like this.

"I'm gonna do it." He says, taking off his shirt.

"Matt, really?" You laugh at him. There's no way he's going to really do it.

He jumps into the lake, moving his arms around and warming up. "Ahhhh y/n a fish touched me!" He screams out.

You start laughing uncontrollably and decide to jump in, too, lifting your shirt and shorts off.

Your body hits the water, and you sink through the surface of the warm water and come back up toward Matt. He grabs you gently and pulls you closely up to his bare chest.

"Y/n?" He asks.

"Yeah, Matt?" You reply, gazing up at his face.

"I love you." He whispers into your ear.

You freeze. Wow. That's the first time he's ever said that to you. But it feels right.

"I love you too." You whisper lightly, smiling at hm.

He smirks, you can tell he had been waiting to say something for a while, his face lit up when you said it back.

He brushes his hand up onto your face, holds your jaw, lifts your head up to look into his eyes again, moves his face down toward yours, kisses you slowly, and sweetly, running his hands through your soft hair.

You kiss him back, wanting to stay in this moment forever.

HEYYY! TYSM FOR READING MY 2ND EVER STORY! PLEASE INTERACT WITH MY POST AND FOLLOW IF YOU LIKED IT! leave requests for new stories in my inbox!!

[ivysangel]

Okay but a threesome with Dick and Jason. what would that be like? Are they competing to see who makes you come harder? Does each try to out do the other because he’s secretly jealous? Are they gonna Eiffel Tower? Is one really sweet while the other is being aggressive and rough? I need opinions.

-🧸

honey i am so so so so so sorry. this has been sitting in my drafts for so long and i hope you're still around to see it! i already wrote a lil smth smth about this a while ago here but allow me to elaborate.

i think the dynamic can get pretty crazy because dick can get wayyy nasty; not to say jason doesn't either, but i don't think jason would get crazy nasty in front of dick. dick's there to overstimulate you, tease you, play around with you, and bring you to the edge and back and then over, and jason's there to comfort you through it. i think they both could be "he talks you through it," guys, but in this specific scenario, i think it would be jason who sweet talks you, whispers in your ear, tells you you're doing so good for them, and quiets you down when you get too loud. i don't really know how to explain it, but he'd be the comforting presence out of the two of them, not even taking a submissive role or anything, just not as actively winding you up as much as dick.

dick, a menace as always, treats it like a game. how many times can he make you cum before you're begging for a break, and how many different ways can he make it happen. i think he'd be like that on a normal day, too, but i feel like it's very amplified in this situation because however this threesome happens, it's a very tense and intimate affair, out of character for both of them and, therefore everything about it is just different (?) i can't even think of a good way to explain it other than the next morning you're all kinda like woah. lost all inhibition the night before and don't really know how to go back to the way things were. he's quick to get nasty; he's the one eating you out while jason is kissing your neck and lightly grazing your skin, touching and squeezing, etc. the combination of both of them is really just insane, and both of their actions, in tandem, are what makes it so much more intense.

i do think they could be eiffel tower guys, but idk, i think (and walk with me here)…double penetration might be the way they go. like, you can't say, "dick grayson is an ass man," without admitting that he'd probably be into anal, so boom. and if your pussy is open, then yeah, ofc jasons taking it; it just makes sense TO ME. it's definitely a lot and not for the faint of heart, and you have to hold onto one (or both) of them while you get used to the sensation and while they find a nice rhythm, so it feels good for all three of you. during this part, the talking might die down just because you're all so in the moment; it's definitely out of character for dick because he's a D1 yapper, but it's cool cuz he was dirty talking so much during the foreplay, like lifting his head from between your legs just to look you in the eye and say something nasty.

i'm also ngl i could see the roles reversed where jason is eating you out or fingering you, and dick is the one whispering crazy shit in your ear. i could see it working both ways, but the first more so.

when i tell you this would be probably the best orgasm you've ever had, i mean that. there's just so much that went into it that there's really no way you aren't gasping for air and clutching your chest when it's over. damn near passing out, and they gotta shake you a little to make sure you're still kicking. and it's not even really over because if you show any semblance of energy after, they might try to go another round i fear.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Could I request S/O patching up Eula, Dehya and Navia's wounds whilst trying (and failing) to not blatantly stare/thirst for their muscles?

(Genshin Impact) Eula, Dehya, Navia, and Beidou's S/O bandaging them

Honestly, same.

Eula is at first worried when S/O suddenly stops during their bandaging, and then resuming.

Until she realized where exactly they were staring.

Yes, her arm was injured, but that was no reason for S/O to stare at it as long as they did.

(Eula) "Where exactly is your mind wandering, S/O?"

(S/O) "U-Um...sorry, it's just...you're so strong..."

The wind is knocked out of Eula for a moment before quickly regaining her line of thought.

(Eula) "Hmph, to be a Captain requires great strength, both mentally and physically. Of course I am. Now, quit gawking, lest I do the same."

Nailed it.

...Wait a second-

Dehya winces a little when the bandage is wrapped tightly around her arm.

(Dehya) "Ack! Damn that's gonna hurt in the morning. Anyways, thanks for-"

She then noticed that S/O was staring at her abs, then quickly looked away when they realized.

Dehya chuckles and rolls her eyes.

(Dehya) "Jeez, I'm glad to see where your priorities are when I'm bleeding over here-"

(S/O) "S-Sorry! I didn't mean to-"

Dehya ruffles their hair with a free hand.

(Dehya) "Relax, I'm just teasing. I'm flattered, S/O. Plus not like I exactly hide my muscles."

Navia yelps in pain as she feels the bandage go around her wrist.

(Navia) "OW! I-Is it over?"

(S/O) "Yes, now I have to check your arm."

Navia pouts as she one finger taps against her Umbrella.

(Navia) "S/O, thank you for helping me but I assure you that...S/O?"

She noticed their grip stopped around her forearm as they continuously felt it up.

Navia grins and gently flicks their forehead with her other arm.

(Navia) "That is not how you check for injuries, mon chéri/ma chérie!"

(S/O) "R-Right! Sorry...um...your arm is really strong-"

(Navia) "Hah, of course they are! I got three guns you know!-OW!"

She tried flexing her arms before suddenly recoiling, making S/O remember what they were doing.

Beidou hisses in pain as a bandage went around her leg.

(Beidou) "Crap, that's not good..."

(S/O) "You need to be more careful, Beidou. I know you're strong but...-"

Beidou looks a little guilty about making S/O worried about her.

(Beidou) "Sorry. I'll be a little more careful next time."

(S/O) "..."

(Beidou) "...S/O?"

They were staring at her legs, which made her laugh heartily.

(Beidou) "Gee, how romantic."

(S/O) "A-AH! Sorry, I didn't mean to just...I knew you were toned but-"

(Beidou) "I'm a sailor, I gotta be. But, I'm glad you approve at least, since you were staring at 'em that long."

S/O sighed as Beidou playfully nudged them.

(Beidou) "It's nothing that you haven't seen before in my quarters anywa-"

(S/O) "BEIDOU!"

[apolloscastellan]

You roll like thunder when you come crashing in | Luke Castellan

Pairing: Luke Castellan x female zeus!reader.

Summary: Luke gets injured during capture the flag and you go crazy, it forces you to confront your feelings (Angst+fluff).

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: injury, loss of blood, use of y/n, female pronouns used to describe reader, ig this is ooc Luke, pre-tlt. Not beta'd we die like men, english isn't my first language, etc.

A/N: This is my first ever time publishing anything I've written so pease tell me what you think!

Luke feels like he’s been struck by lightning the first time he sees you. He is sitting down beside Thalia’s tree, talking to her absentmindedly, when he hears the most gut-wrenching scream he has ever heard. He sees you stumbling up the hill, covered in blood and dirt. You are holding up the body of your satyr protector, who struggles to walk. Catching up to you alarmingly quickly is one of the most terrifying monsters Luke has seen in a long time. You seem determined to keep running, even as your protector attempts desperately to get you to leave her behind. Luke knows he shouldn’t, but as he watches you give up trying to run away and prepare to fight, he wants to step outside of camp limits and help you. It seems like you don’t need his help, though, as you pull out a dagger from the back of your cargo pants and charge against the monster. Luke unfreezes then, calling out for the campers who can hear him to go “find Chiron!” When he looks back at you, you’re finishing the monster off. He forgets every protocol and safety rule when he sees you stumbling, sprinting towards you and catching you just in time before you pass out on his arms.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is that you are not in your room, or anywhere you recognize. You’re also not outside, the view of the sky that had become usual to you covered by a wooden ceiling. You sit up and look around, no one seems to be there, and when you look out the window you realize that it is probably because it is already dark outside. This must be the camp your protector was talking about, you realize. They are not very good at welcoming newcomers, it seems. Once you find a mirror to check that you don’t look crazy you decide to go outside to try to find someone who can confirm where you are, and hopefully help you settle in. When the wind hits your skin for the first time, you feel a chill run down your spine, you wonder how long you were unconscious for. You follow the voices you can hear singing to a plain terrain. A huge campfire lights up the place, teenagers and kids of all ages congregate around it singing, talking, laughing and eating s’mores. They are all wearing matching orange t-shirts. They look like a cult, you think, and the thought makes you giggle. That seems to pull somebody’s attention, and before you can realize what’s happening, there is a quiet murmur going around and everyone is looking at you. You freeze, suddenly feeling like you are crashing a party you were not invited to. You’re about to turn around and run when a boy with dark brown curly hair and a mischievous smile runs up to you. He couldn’t be older than sixteen, but something about him makes him look as if he is in charge.

“You’re finally awake” He whispers with a sigh.

“Sorry, I really don’t mean to be rude but do I know you? Also, where am I? And Why is everyone staring at me? It’s a little creepy”

He laughs openly, turning around to stare the rest of the kids down.

“Everyone, go back to your own conversations, there is nothing to see here” It’s a little crazy that he thinks it’s gonna work, but it’s even more crazy that it works, and everyone turns around within seconds. He extends his right hand towards you “I’m Luke Castellan, welcome to Camp Half-Blood.”

“y/n” you say, still shocked by his obvious power and shaking his hand. “So, this is the place Leela was talking about.”

You look around, Luke’s eyes fixated on you. Leela was your satyr protector, you met her only a couple weeks before arriving at camp. He is still looking at you when your eyes finally find him again.

“It is. The safe haven for demigods. How much do you know about Greek mythology?”

“A fair bit, the same about Camp Half-Blood, is that how you called it? I’m curious and there’s a lot of awkward silences when you’re traveling across the country” she jokes. “I know about the idea of camp, and about the cabins, the godly parent… When will I get claimed? Leela never told me that.”

The smile immediately drops off his face, an awkward grimace taking its place. He looks around, as if trying to find an excuse to run away. He comes back to the conversation empty handed.

It has been a year since you had arrived at Camp Half-Blood. You had found your place, in more ways than one. You were surprisingly good at sword-fighting, archery and Greek, and you had made many wonderful friends. But still, something was missing. You hadn’t been claimed. And because you had never met either of your parents, you couldn’t even rule out half of the options. You had tried everything, from becoming the best at every activity, to giving the most generous offers, but nothing seemed to work. Luke, who had become your best friend, was pulling his hair out in frustration. In your behalf, because how dare the gods ignore someone as wonderful and kind as you, but also in his because no matter how much he knew he loved you and wanted to be with you, he could not make a move without the fear that Hermes might claim you someday. His dad was not the most reliable of fathers. So he went about his life pretending he wasn’t dying inside to be able to kiss the sadness away from your face. The same sadness that was overwhelmingly present as you got yourselves and your team ready for capture the flag.

“Okay” he said as he clapped his hands to get the attention of the rest of the kids, knowing expanding your winning streak would be the easiest way to make you feel at least a little bit better. “Everyone knows what they’re doing? Good, if you don’t, go see Annabeth right now. Blue team, this victory is ours!”

The kids scatter as he walks back up to you. You’re fiddling with your armor, visibly frustrated. He lets you continue to try on your own until you groan in desperation. He takes the strap from you and buckles it himself.

“What’s wrong?” he asks next, his voice soft.

“Today’s the anniversary of when I first got to camp” you whisper. “And I know, I know that people wait for longer, that some never get to know who it is but I can’t help feeling this way. I’ve tried everything, it’s not fair.”

Luke’s heart breaks hearing you talk about your godly parent, the one person who is supposed to take care of you. But that is how the Gods work, they only care about themselves. He promises then, that he’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. For now, he pulls you close to him, wrapping his arms around your body and placing his chin on your head. You pull apart as the bell that signals the start of the game rings through the forest. 

“I’ll see you after our win?”

“Definitely.” The smile on his face stays as he picks up his shield, running away from you.

He turns around right before you lose sight of him, giving you a military salute with his sword, pulling a giggle out of your mouth. You have been tasked with watch-out duty. You are a decoy, pretending to guard the flag so the kids in the other team come after you. You’re a good enough sword fighter to keep them entertained for a while on your own. You are bored for a while, until a group of three young Ares kids surrounds you. They are inexperienced and eager to prove themselves which makes them reckless. You could fight them off easily, and get them on their way, but you know that part of your mission is to stall them so you do your best to not give them your best moves. You’ve been sparring for a little bit when something throws you off. Someone is screaming your name. Through the forest you can see a little girl running towards you. Annabeth looks like she’s crying, which is enough to worry you, Annabeth never cries. The Ares kids try to use the distraction to attack, but you dodge their hits, quickly disarming them before running towards the girl screaming your name.

“Y/n! Come quickly! It’s Luke!”

He is the first thing your eyes lay on when you get to the clear Annabeth has led you to. He is on the floor, unconscious, his face covered in blood. You fall to your knees next to his body. Your hands are shaking, aching to do something, anything. There is not much you can do. You haven’t prayed in a while, having given up, but now, as you tear apart your t-shirt to cover the wound and stop the bleeding, and yell at the younger kids to “go find Chiron!” you beg any God that will listen to not let you lose your best friend. Someone touches your shoulder, whispering that you should move away. You’ve never felt this much rage. How dare someone tell you to walk away, to leave Luke’s side in this moment.

“Get off me!” You don't recognize your own voice as the scream leaves your mouth.

You realize slightly too late that the voice telling you to move was Chiron, but as you turn to apologize you are left speechless. The floor where Chiron had been standing just seconds before was completely burnt. When you look up, you realize why. There, shining above your head, was a lightning bolt.

“Zeus” Chiron said, his voice solemn, as the campers who had gathered to see what had happened, kneeled. “Energymaker, King of Gods, Father of Men. Hail, Y/n Y/l/n, Daughter of the Sky God.

You sit outside the back door of the infirmary for three days, unwilling to talk to anyone. For almost all campers, you’ve disappeared. They won’t let you see Luke, the Apollo kids take turns trying to convince you to go to your Cabin and get some sleep. You refuse. That's a new development, you have a Cabin now. A place where you belong, forever, not a temporary solution, or a rest stop, a place of your own. But the thought of walking into an empty, eerily silent mock of a home has you wanting to crawl out of your skin. You’ve become so used to sleeping through the noise of the Hermes Cabin’s campers you doubt you’ll be able to sleep on your own. And what are you going to do without being able to walk two steps and lay in Luke’s bed? Luke, who is currently unconscious inside the infirmary. Luke, who for some stupid reason you are not allowed to see. Luke, who is the reason why you haven’t even processed that you have been claimed. You have been claimed by Zeus no less. The king of the Gods, one of the Big Three. You can’t think of the implications, not when your best friend is battling between life and death so close to you, yet out of reach. You play with the food Annabeth had brought you, trying to forget the worry in her face as she tried to get you to say something. You know that Luke would have wanted you to move, take care of her and all the other campers, but you can't. He can’t be disappointed when he is unconscious. Still, you try your best, nodding at her words so she knows you’re listening. The door opens as you give up eating for the night. Mark, the Head Counselor of the Apollo Cabin looks down at you. He motions you to follow him with his head and you do so wordlessly. You don’t know what to think, and then you see him. He is sitting down, his back propped up with a pillow. He has bandages covering his reopened scar, and he gives you a sad smile when he finally spots you. You freeze for a second, unable to believe your eyes, before running and launching yourself towards him.

“I’m going to kill you” you say through the tears streaming down your face, hiding in the crook of his neck. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

You try to pull away but his arms stop you. You feel him shake his head.

“Don’t you dare, I’m fine.”

“I thought you were dead. I thought…”

“I’m ok… I’m ok now.”

“I got claimed.” You spit out suddenly, which makes Luke pull back, looking at you with wide eyes, a silent question in his face. “Zeus”

You can see his expression turn mournful as he remembers his old best friend. You’ve heard about Thalia, the quiet resentment you held for the girl who had undoubtedly held Luke’s heart had once made you feel terribly guilty. Now, you feel a sort of kin with her you had never felt before. You wish she was still here. You can see in Luke’s eyes he feels the same way.

“Daughter of the king of the Gods” he says finally, trying to be upbeat. “What a power trip. Hope it doesn’t get to your head. How’s the empty cabin? Much easier to sleep I hope?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been there yet” you breathe in and out. “I couldn’t leave you. The thought of anything happening to you…”

“Y/n…”

“No, let me finish. I need to get this off my chest.” 

Alone with yourself for the past three days, you had had a lot of time to think. That is all you had done. Think about yourself, and your dad and your friends and the danger all of you were under just for being born. But mostly, you thought about Luke. And how he was the only person you felt truly comfortable with. And how you had this weird, guilt-inducing dislike of Thalia, not because she wasn’t good, you had never met her, but because she had Luke before you ever did, and you couldn’t stand it.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking these past few days,” you finally breathe out. “And I have come to a couple realizations. Luke, I'm in love with you.”

It comes out of your mouth like a shot, unplanned and unbridled. You don’t know how you had planned to say it, but it was not like this.

“You’re what?” too embarrassed to look him in the eye, you shift your gaze to your lap.

“I’m in love with you. I don’t know how it happened, and I honestly don't know why I’m telling you. I guess watching you almost die made me realize life’s too short to keep secrets. You don’t have to say anything at all, but I love you.”

He’s already looking at you when you finally look up, his eyes wide, his mouth open. Nobody says anything for a couple of seconds. You search your brain for a joke, something to say to dispel the tension. You shouldn’t have said anything. You should’ve just kept it to yourself. Before you can continue further down your spiral he finally breaks his trance, pulling you towards him from the front of your ripped t-shirt and kissing you. Your lips move against his almost instinctively, and you can’t think of anything that’s not the taste of his tongue when it finally makes its way to your mouth, or the weight of his hands that have now shifted to your waist. You pull away when both of you need to breathe, but he doesn’t let you get very far.

“I love you too. I’ve loved you from the first day I met you. I’ve always known, you are it for me. I love you.”

At a loss for what to say, you kiss him again. Your hands cradle his face before moving to his curls. You kiss each other as if trying to convey the magnitude, the finality, of your feelings for each other. Luke is right. This is it, for both of you, You have finally found your person. Everything else is background noise from that point forward. You don’t care that the Gods are unfair and neglectful, or that you were born to a world destined to kill you. As long as you have Luke, you know it’ll be alright.

[charlesslut16]

Hi, i love your writing, could you write something about jealous and angry sex with Charles? 💋

-new guy friend-

summary : you and charles were at a beach party and a guy flirted with you...

PAIRING : charles leclerc x fem!reader

WARNINGS : +18, smut, NSFW, dirty talk, fingering, p in v, badly translated french, curse words, public sex, jealous!charles, unprotected sex (be safe!)

note : i hope you like it! I'm watching f1 so i hope there will be no mistakes. Love you.

masterlist 

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You and charles were at a beach party, as he had some time of Formula One. Your friends were inside, while you were outside on the beach, enjoying your time alone together.

Before you went outside, charles played beer pong with his friends, while you were with Pierre, who introduced you to your new friend, René. You talked until charles came to you and you went outside.

The night air was cold and breezed through your whole body, you felt so relaxed as you sat between charles legs in the sandy wind, enjoying yourselves. He stroked your skin with his long fingers, the chill causing undeniable goosebumps.

You tried to ignore them as you nodded your head along encouragingly to your new friend's words, René's big hand came to your forearm as he spoke excitedly.

Usually this wouldn't have bothered charles, being more chill himself. But it was clear that this 'new friend of you' didn't give a single shit about your boundaries.

This new guy's hand kept finding you, grabbing you, tugging at you or making you laugh. And it drove charles mad. You were his girlfriend, you were here with him, and you would go home with him.

Charles couldn't help but glare at him. René didn't even notice, though. He only kept his eyes on you, which pushed Charles to being even more fucking bothered.

Charles' fingers grabbed at your thighs, and you brushed him off with a yelp. Your beautiful voice echoed in his mind. But you continued to give all your attention to whatever the jerk was saying.

"Ma cherie" Charles said in your ear. You knew that tone. He was warning you.  But you continued trying to give your attention to René, and Charles squeezed you tight to make his warning clear.

"Ne devrions-nous pas y aller maintenant?" Shouldn't we go now?

You and charles had rented a beach house just blocks away from the beach, the place comfortable and cozy. You wondered if he wanted to head home already because of the cold, breezy beach air.

"Already?" you asked, voice smooth. "Aren't you having fun? Rene was just telling us- "

"Yes already." He said annoyed, his voice husky. 

"Venir." He commanded softly, standing up. Come

"Sorry, mate, but me and y/n are heading home now." He simply stated towards the man in front of him, Rene's lip pulled down into a frown as he nodded his head. 

"Okay." He cleared his throat and added. "Nice meeting you guys."

Charles guided you upwards, his hand in yours as you rose to your feet. He finally met your eyes and didn't look all too pleased. You two walk hand in hand in silence towards the beach house, the only sound that filled your ears was the crash of waves.

"So-"

"Don't" Charles cut in. He didn't say it harshly, though, but there was a slight bite in his tone. Implying that he wasn't all too happy. He took a deep breath before glancing over at you.

"What am I going to do with you?"

"What do you mean, baby?" The innocence in our eyes made charles scoff, he squeezed your hand in his and pulled you up to the porch of your rented beach house.

"Don't play dumb with me." He led you towards the front door, but didn't stop to get his keys out of his jeans pocket. Instead, he backed you into the wall, his hands going to your hips.

"I don't usually get..." he sighed out, "Jealous." He lowered his eyes, he didn't want you to see the anger and disappointment in them.

"What? You had absolutely nothing to worry about."

"Oh?" Charles eyes twinkled with amusement, "You think I was worried? No. I didn't like him touching you. It fucking pisses me off. " He admitted, his voice raspy.

"Mais je n’étais pas inquiet. Il ne pourrait jamais te toucher comme je le fais. Le seul homme qui peut te toucher, c’est moi. Droite?" He squeezed your hips. But I wasn't worried. He could never touch you the way I do. The only man who can touch you is me. Right?

"Charles..." You breathed out, his name tasted so good on your tongue. "Montre-moi comment tu me touches alors." Show me how you touch me then.

Charles's head fell down to your shoulders as he chuckled, his hands brought your hips in closer to his. You could still hear the waves in the background along with his breathing.

"Vous toucher?" charles asked, one of his fingers slid down to the waistband of your red mini skirt, he peeled is back and then let go, slapped the material against your skin.  Touch you?

"Et comment devrais-je vous toucher?" He didn't lift his head, his words fell against the skin of your shoulder. "Si vous méritez même d'être touchée." And how should I touch you?  If you even deserve to be touched.

You slowly closed your eyes and tilted your head back as you felt Charles's big hand dip beneath your red mini skirt, his long fingers brushed against you so lightly.

"Baby..." you breathed out, "Only you can touch me like this."

"That's right." Charles said, lifted his head to take a look at you. Your head leaned against the wall, exposing your neck to him. He surged forward and kissed the expanse of your throat, you moaned, as you felt his lips suck on you.

"Tous les miens" He said quietly. "This is mine too." His fingers slide between your wet folds. "D’accord, princesse?" All mine.  Right, princess?

"Yes, Charles." you choked on your own words, as you felt his index finger play at your hole, teasing you so suddenly.

"Je détestais qu’il te touche. Je détestais la façon dont vous riez de ses blagues stupides. Et je détestais la façon dont il touchait ce qui m’appartenait." Charles's lip traveled all across your neck and collarbone.  I hated that he touched you. I hated how you laughed at his stupid jokes. And I hated how he touched what is mine.

"Dis-moi que tu n’appartiens qu’à moi. Dites-moi que vous ne répondez qu’à mon contact. Et dis-moi que tu ne seras jamais que mien." He suddenly demanded.  Tell me you only belong to me. Tell me that you only respond to my touch. And tell me that you will only ever be mine.

"Oh baby." You opened your eyes, but they rolled back, as he started pushing his fingers inside. "Oui...", you moan. "Qui." I do...  I do.

"You will only cum around my fingers, won't you? You will only ever cum on my cock, won't you?" He said, his tongue licked a strip up to your ear. 

"You'd only moan for me?"

"Qui, charles." You clenched hard around his fingers, as he started thrusting them deep into you, his long fingers, brushed against your special spot, that always got you to cum.

"Dis que tu es tout à moi, princesse." Say you're all mine, princess.

You bit back a loud moan, realized that you were outside and people were still walking around. "Je suis tout à toi."  You tried to whisper. "All yours." I'm all yours.  Bien à vous

"No." Charles halted his fingers, which made you groan out loudly. "Say it loudly."

You gulped, when your eyes met his, his gaze intensified, as he stared at you harshly. You moved your hips forward for some friction, but he stopped you from moving.

"Say you're mine." He repeated. You could hear the slight anger in his voice, you felt your heart skip a beat.

"Je suis tout à toi." You said with a grin. "Tous les vôtres alors s’il vous plaît"  You moved your hips desperately. All yours, so please...

"Brave fille" He managed to say between a few rough breaths. A third finger got added, as he began fucking you with them again. Your knees giving out on you, as you started to feel your orgasm approaching again.  Good girl.

You started to whimper, when he leaned forward and nibbled on your neck, his hands never quit. You felt the intense, wild, euphoric feeling of coming all around your jealous boyfriend's fingers.

"Only I can do this for you. I'm the only one who can make you come like this."

Then you fell into his arms, breathed out roughly, when he stroked your hair back. He then picked you up bridal style, took his keys out of his pockets, opened the door and walked into the beach house.

He then went into your shared bedroom, laid you on the bed and took off your shoes. You sat up straight, lust still in your eyes, as you waited for charles to come back, as he went out of the room.

"Ready for your second orgasm tonight?"

You only nodded as an answer, Charles came to the bed, while taking off his clothes until he stood in front of you, naked. He crawled on the bed and started taking your clothes off too.

In order not to talk about it, Charles pulled you down a little and pushed his cock in your pussy. You let out a loud moan, as you felt his big cock deep inside your pussy.

He started to ram his cock into you with a hard and steady pace. He was furious, but now he could release all his pent-up anger on you. 

"Rappelez-vous que je suis la seule à pouvoir vous baiser et vous faire jouir." Charles said, with a look that told you, that he fully meant it.  Remember, that I'm the only one who can fuck you and make you cum. 

As you felt your orgasm approaching, you signaled it to charles, who increased his pace in fucking you. And a minute later, you came with a loud moan. Soon after, Charles came deep inside your pussy.

"This is how it is supposed to be you are under me, me fucking you. You understand? You're all mine, and if I ever see you talk to this guy, you will face the consequences."

[katerinaaqu]

greetings!

kindly requesting some background info and perhaps some linguistic breakdowns on the compound names & epithets of the greek gods.

So far ive come across a fair few (like areia and kronides for aphrodite and zeus respectively) and wondered if theyre tied to certain myths, are markers of where the god is in theogony, or are as simple as greek honorifics.

tysm and have a wonderful day :D

Hello hello!

Oh my this is an amazing question but also so damn extensive! Hahaha because there are countless epithets given to the gods depending on their cult and worship, their attributes or relations even their appearance at times (ex. Κυανοχαίτης Ποσειδών aka "dark/blue haired Poseidon", or Γλαυκόφθαλμη Αθηνά aka "Athena with the blue/gray/bright eyes" or "eyes like an owl")! Only Zeus has a bunch of them! Much more the others! However I will try my best to scrap the surface of their names and epithets here.

For starters the gods, just like the humans in poems and such, bear the names of their heritage or parenthood. So, just like we have let's say Ατρείδης Αγαμέμνων (Atreides Agamemnon) aka "Agamemnon son of Atreus", we have also Κρονίδης Ζευς Kroneides Zeus "Zeus, son of Cronos" [Since whenever you see the ending -ίδης (-ides) at the end of a name means "son of" ]

They also might have an epithet depending on the area they are being worshipped or linked to their birth or residing, for example Κυπρία Cyprian, an epithet of Aphrodite to indicate her birthplace in Cyprus or even Κυθέρεια "From Kythera" for her other elleged birthplace, Kythera.

Gods also bear as epithets names that are linked to the lands they have their temples or sanctuaries in for example Ολύμπιος/α (Olymbios/a)= Of Olympus, Olympic, Πελάσγιος (Pelasgios) [Zeus]= Of the Pelasgic tribe, etc or Delphic (the one in Delphi) etc.

There are so many so I am not sure if I can touch them all but I will sure try! I am sorry if this message is long.

Zeus:

Zeus's name is ancient. In fact it is being rescued from the very first confirmed greek scripture, Linear B as di-wo among others. His worship is indeed linked to the ancient times. Etymologically his name is linked to meanings such as "divine" or "heavenly" among others very freely though given that the actual etymology is rather obscure and Zeus is one of the greatest examples we have in etoimology. I believe comes from an ancient root which means "to shine" According to Burket n Greek religion.

Zeus has a plethora of epithets and some of them have to do with his attributes and links to the sky and weather Όμβριος (Ombrios)= of the rain, Αφέσιος (Afesios)= the one who releases (rain or other weather phenomena), Σκοτίας (Skotias)= the darkening, the one who brings darkness (associated with rain and clouds), Κεραύνιος (Keravnios)= the one of the Thunder, Αστραπέος (Astrapeos)= the one of the Lightning, Κατεβάτης (Katevatis)= the descending one (from the verb "κατεβαίνω" in modern greek which means "to descend" or "to come down"), Κόνιος (Konios)= the one of the dust, Ικμαίος (Ikmeos)= of the moisture, Ευήνεμος (Evinemos)= of the good winds, Νεφεληγερέτης (Nepheligeretis)= Cloud-gatherer (Homeric epithet from greek νεφέλη=cloud and verb αγείρω= to raise or to gather) etc.

Other epitheds include his role among the gods such as: Βασιλεύς (Vasilefs)= King, Ύπατος (Ipatos)= supreme, sublime, the higest of authority, Κορυφαίος (Korypheos)= top, of the top, the highest of all (or linked to the top of Mount Olympus), Ύψιστος (Ypsistos)= the highest of all, the most sublime, the top authority, Θεός Αγαθός (Theos Agathos)= the Good God, Βουλαίος (Vouleos)= of the council, councilor, Κοσμήτης (Kosmitis)= the one who brings order to the world etc. even Πατήρ (Pater)= Father (aka "Father of gods and mankind")

Then we have a plethora of epithets that link Zeus to several things he represents such as justice or giving of goods for example: Ξένιος (Xenios)= of hospitality, Ικέσιος (Ikesios)= of the begging (here the ritual of begging see for example Odysseus begging Arete for heeding his plea for getting him home), Φίλιος (Philios)= of love, of friendship, of kinship, Γαμήλιος (Gamilios)= of the marriage, Καθάρσιος (Katharsios)= the one who cleanses, Σωτήρ (Sotir)= savior, Μειλίχιος (Milihios)= Gracious, merciful, Ελευθέριος (Elephtherios)= of freedom, Πανελλήνιος (Panhellenios)= of all Greece and all Greeks (from παν= complete, all and ελλας=greece), Αρείος (Areios)= of war, Στράτιος (stratios)= of the army, Σθένιος (Sthenios)= of power, Τρόπαιος (tropeos)= of the prices, loot, Σημαλέος (Simaleos)= bringer of signs/omens, Μοιραγέτης (Miragetis)= leader of Fates (μοίρα=fate and άγω=to lead, to bring, to raise)

And that is just a sample! Hahahaha! He has countless names and epithets depending on his worship, his attributes. In Homer he is even described by his appearance or what he wears, for example Aἰγίοχος (Aegiohos)= Aegis bearer (from the myth of Athena and Perseus where Perseus gives the head of Medusa to Athena, by some accounts Athena presents this aegis to her father Zeus). Some of his epithets that connect him to myths such as the attribute of being part of the top of the mountain of course leads not only to his battle with his father Cronos and his dominance over Olympus but also the second defeat of the Titans in Titanomachy where again Zeus defeated his arch-nemesis, Typhoon. His attribute to mount Ida in Crete is possibly due to the fact that he was raised there in secret so that Cronos wouldn't swallow him like the rest of Rhea's children. Multiple myths connext Zeus to sanctuaries such as the one of Dodona where he is also offering prophetic powers, similar to Delphi. Zeus also is connected to South Italy given that it is under Aitna that he trapped Typhoon according to some myths and traditions.

Hera:

Hera is also an ancient deity known already from mycenaean greek as well, written e-ra. Her name is of a little more obscure origins. I have seen people connect her to ώρα (hora) aka "time" or "moment" αήρ aka "wind" or "air" and some others. Plato says it comes from ἐρατή (erate) which means "beloved". Either way Hera has given her name in many figures of mytholgy including the infamous Heracles (Heracles= Glory of Hera).

Just like her husband, Hera has also a number of epithets that connect her to her nature as well as her attributes: Νυμφευόμενη (Nymphevomeni)= married, the one who gets married, Τέλεια (Teleia)= complete, adult woman, Ζύγια (Zygia)= married, of the marriage Ανθεία (Anthia)= of the flowers, Ακραία (Akraia)= of the top, of theheights (title she shares with her husband as well), Γαμηστόλος (Gamistolos)= the one who leads marriage (γάμος= marriage, στέλλω=to send, to lead to) Άνασσα and Βασιλίς (Anassa and Vasilis)= Queen. Βοῶπις (Vopis)= Cow-eyed (Homeric epithet, the one wit the big eyes. Also in Homer she is described as "white armed")

Other interesting epithets of hers are: Αλέξανδρος (alexandros)= protector of men (αλεξ= protect, repel and ανδρας= man, here is used as an epithet not as a name so it is female gender), Ηνίοχη (Iniohi)= of the chariot, the one who leads the chariot, Ὑπερχείρια (Hyperheria)= whose hand us up above. We also have one where she is called Αιγοφάγος (Aigophagos)= Goat-eater (Αίγα=goat and φάγω=to eat), linked to Laconia (Sparta) where Heraclesoffers a sacrifice in goats to her because he had no other sacrifice to give. Other names and epithets link her to specific heroes like Βουναία (Vounea)= of Vounos (a name of a hero) since many heroes offer temples in her name.

She is linked a lot with heroes due to her involvement with them both for the good and for the bad reasons. As charioteer we see her ride a chariot in Iliad as they descend together with Athena to assist the Greeks in the Trojan war. It also seems to be connecting her with her husband as his support and his co-ruler.

Poseidon:

Yet another god we know exists at least since the dawn of greek civilization in Bronze age, having his name engraved in Linear B as po-se-da-or among others, Poseidon is the second most powerful god in Greek olympian pantheon and like his younger brother Zeus is the god of the heavens, he is the god of earth as a living space for humans. His name is linked both to earth and to water since depending on the interpretation one can say his name comes rom "flow" or "earth" and of course one of his most famous epithets as earth-shaker. That is because earthquakes are by n large the former of the landscape.

Poseidon's plethora of names and epithets also link him to that. In fact many of his epithets include the term "gaea" which means "earth": Βασιλεύς (vasilevs)= king, lord, Πελαγαίος (Pelageos)=of the sea (πέλαγος=alternative word for "sea"), Αιγαίων (Aegeaeon)= of the Aegean sea, Προσκλύστιος (Prosklystios)= the one who strikes against (here waves probably?) Γαιήοχος (Gaeichos)= the one who holds the earth, Εννοσιγαιος (Ennosigaeos)= the Earth-Shaker, Εὐρυκρείων (Evrikrion)=wide-ruling (in Homer), Κυανοχαίτης (Cyanohetis)= of the blue/cyan/dark hair (in Homer from cyan and χαίτη which is a word used both for the maine of the horse but also means "hair" in general), Σεισίχθων (Sisichthon)= Earth-shaker (from verb σείω=to shake and χθων=ground, dirt, earth >see also "chthonian"), Ἐπακταῖος (Epaktaeos)= on the shore, worshipped on the shore (επί=upon, onto and ακτή=shore), Ποντομέδων (Pontomedon)= lord of the sea (ποντος=water, sea, μένδω=rule, stand steadfast -among others-), Φύκιος (Phykios)= of the seaweed, Φυταλμιος (Phytalmios)= plant nurturer

Other epithets can be seen as: Ἀσφάλειος (Asphalios)= protector (possibly protection for travelers in the sea), Δωματίτης (Domatitis)= of the house (as protector of kings and families and kin), Ἱππιος (Hippios)= of the horses, Ἱπποκουριος (Hippokurios)= the tender of horses (both these have the word ίππος=horse and the second has the term κούρα= which means "healing" or "tending", see english word "cure"), Ἐπόπτης (Epoptis)=overseer Γενέθλιος (Genethlios)=of the birth (here of the family or of the kin)

So by n large Poseidon is linked to some earthly values as opposing to Zeus who is connected with heavenly affairs. He protects the household and the kin, the partenthood and ansestors among others. Even the fact that his animal is a horse (symbol of status of nobility) plays its part. And of course on myths involving him we do know on the famous del with Athena over the control of the city of Athens but we also know the association of Poseidon with various monsters and monstrous creatures such as the cyclops and more specifically the cyclops Polyphemus. In one essence that could be an indicator of how nature is dangerous for humans who have to struggle their way to live through the unexpected turns of it. As a protector/patron god of Troy he is known for having built the walls of Troy after Zeus punished him for the coup he took part in against him. Poseidon had also sent a sea monster to protect Troy nown as Cytus of Troy, which was defeated by Heracles the first time he conquered Troy.

Demeter:

The other sister of the gods, Demeter also appears as far back as Linear B scriptures at least as da-ma-te with her name being associated of course to the cereal of earth but her name itself has multiple interpretations some of them I see is from a proto-indoeuropean "da" for "earth" and "mater" aka "mother" so in one way "mother-earth" aspect which makes sense given how Demeter is goddess of harvest, of nature, of rebirth of earth after winter and generally associated with earth. Also she is associated with the seasons and their changes. Consequently she is associated with wealth given how wealth comes from cullivating the earth. From the myth of Persephone and her struggle to get back her daughter and have justice for her, made her also associated with justice and law and also of course like many goddesses and gods that have to do with rebirth and the underworld one way or another, is also linked to mysteries and secret worships (ex. Eleusynian Mysteries).

Χθονια (Chthonia)= Of the earth, Χλοη (Chloi)= Green/Grass related, Καρποφορος (Karpophoros)= Bearer of Fruit, Θερμασια (Thermasia)= of the heat/warmth, Πλουτοδοτειρα (Plutodoteira)= giver of wealth, Παναχαια (Panachaea)= of all the Greeks, Ανησιδωρα (Anisidora)= Giver of gifts, Ὡρηφορος (Oriphoros)= Bringer of Seasons, Πολυφορβος (Polyphorvos)= Nourisher of many, Αγλαοκαρπος (Aglaokarpos)= of the Good Fruit, Καλλιστεφανος (Kallistephanos)= Beautiflly crowned, Χρυσαορος (Chrysaoros)= of the golden blade (perhaps cythe?) Μεγαλη Θεα (Megali Thea)= Great Goddess, Μεγαλα Μητερ (Megala Miter)= Great Mother, Προστασια (Prostasia)= leading/standing forard, Ευρώπη (Evropi/Europa)= broad-eyed, Λουσιη (Lusyi)= Bathing/Purifying), Μέλαινα (Melena)= Black (associated with both the land when fertile being dark of color but also her mourning clothing for Persephone's loss) also in this manner Κυανοπεπλος (Cyanopeplos)= Of cyan/black veil, For her association with Justice we have: Θεσμοφορος (Thesmophoros)= Bringer of Law, Θεσμιη (Thesmii)= of the Laws, Ερινυς (Erinys)= Fury (Associated with her fury when her daughter was kidnapped) Other descriptive titles: Σεμνη (Semni)= Modest, Ἁγνη (Agni)= Pure, Πότνια (Potnia)= powerful/noble, Ξανθη (Xanthe)= Fair-haired/Blonde (possible description as well as linked to the golden color of cereal), Ευκομος (Efkomos)= Lovely-haired, Ανασσα (Anassa)= Queen

So generally the most famous story of hers is her association with Zeus, the god of justice and heavens thus herself associated with justice and the change of seasons. With Zeus she has Persephone. When Persephone was taken by Hades/Pluto, she dressed herself in black in mourning and kept on searching for her daughter. Her sadness was translated to the change of season, making winter roam the earth. Eventually when Persephone was proven to have eaten food from the Underworld, pomergranate, Demeter demands to be able to see her daughter at least half the year thus we have the change of seasons for Persephone is sad at her daughter's departure in the Underworld, thus bringing winter to the earth. She is also associated with her other brother, Poseidon, through their worship for the fertility of earth.

Hephaestus:

Another Olymbian god is of course Hephaestus who also has a long history since he also appears to the Linear B texts as A-pa-i-ti-jo and known for his protection over blacksmiths and metalworkers and not only. Unfortunately one of his most prominient features is that he is limping (either by birth or because he was thrown off Olympus either by Zeus or by Hera depending on the myth) So many of his epithets reflect on that: Ἀμφιγυήεις (Amphigyiaes)= the laming one or Κυλλοποδίων (Kyllopodion)=the one who drags his feet.

However he has many other glorious epithets about his craft or glory: Αἰθαλόεις θεός (Aethaoaes Theos)= Sooty god, Ἀγακλυτός (Agaklytos)= very renounced (άγαν= very much, κλέος=glory, fame), Χαλκευς (Chalkevs)= the blacksmith of copper, Κλυτος (Klytos)=famous renounced, Πολυτεχνης (Polytechnes)= of many crafts (πολύ=much, many, τέχνη=art, craft), Πολυφρων (Polyfron)= witty, ingenius (πολύ+ φρην=mind) And one of my favorites: Πολύμητις (Polymites)= wily, of many wiles, of many devices [Yup! The god of crafts has the same epithet that Odysseus gets! How cool is that?!]

Now for myths involving Hephaestus and his nature to be a good blacksmith or a cunning fellow come from various myths that involve him binding gods wih invisible or strong chains to name a few we have the famous story where he traps his wife Aphrodite and her lover Ares by binding them on their bed. Or the myth where he binds his mother Hera in a chair and he needs to be made drunk by Dionysus to be coersed to set her free. His nature as a craftsman is connected to the attempt of rap of Athena and the birth of Erichthonius through the Earth/Gaea that gets fertilized with his sperm thus being technically the progenitor of Athens and the Atheneans. And of course the myths that involve him forging various armors for heroes and gods.

Ares:

So Ares is another deity with Mycenaean roots A-re and his name does seem to resemble the term αρά which means "curse" or even "wish" in ancient greek. God of war and courage Ares was not very popular around Greece due to his apparent savagery of character and his connection to war and slaughter and yet he too has a bunch of epithets based on his identity: Θηριτας (Theritas)= Beastly, Ἱππιος (Hippios)= Of the Horses, Αφνειος (Afnios)= Abundant and Γυναικοθιονας (Gynaikothionas)= Feasted by Women. Others such as Ανδρειφοντης (Andrifontis)= Slayer of men, Χαλκεος (Chalkeos)= Bronze or Χαλκοκορυστης (Chalkorystis)= Armed with Bronze, Θοος (Thoos)= Swift, Θουρος (Thuros)= Violent, Δεινος (Deinos)= Terrible, terrifying, Ενυαλιος (Enavlios)= The one sung by the flutes or Warlike, Χρυσοπελεξ (Chrysopelex)= The one of the Golden Helm and more In his case we talk more about epithets that have to do with war and violence which is why he was mostly hated god by the Greeks and represented by the obvious lack of lickiness that Zeus shows for him.

Ares is being connected to various of warriors in mythology and arguably he is responsible for the birth of the Amazons since he fathers many of them. He is also associated to Aphrodite (either as her husband or as her lover) in one way indicating how love or passion are oftentimes reasons for fights and combat). Ares also often gives horses to some strong wariors in myths (thus his association with horses and not just horses of battle). In one essence given how horses are signs of status, could be mythologically winking to the aspect of people gaining status through wars and conquest. Generally Ares is one of the most hated gods due to the aspects of violence he represents (even mythologically is shown as he is one of the least favorite children of Zeus) but his association with Aphrodite and arguably the birth of Eros from their union is to say the very least interesting

Aphrodite:

Aphrodite is a goddess witha plethora of epithets. Her name doesn't seem to be rescued from Bronze Age tablets but of course her name comes from te term αφρός (Aphros=foam) and the verb that means "to rise from" or "to give" or "bring to existence" but there are other theories too that seem to be under discussion. Her epithets of course reflect her notions of love and sexuality but that is not all

Ουρανια (Urania)= of the sky, Heavenly, Πανδημος (Pandemos)= of all people, of all that live, Επιστροφια (Epistrofia)= the one who returns (from verb επιστρέφω which stands for "return" or "turn back"), Αποστροφια (Apostrophia)= the one who reverts (here from aunlawful loves), Κατασκοπια (Kataskopia)= the spying one or even Ψιθυριστης (Psithiristis)= the whispering one So many of her epithets are linked to her lovey nature and to actions of sexuality. Even terms such as Μελαινις (melenis)= black of night (nightly actions such as love), Συμμαχια (Symmachia)=Ally (to love), Απατουρος (Apatouros)= Deceiving one (possible links to affairs), Μορφω (Morpho)= the one of appearances She is also linked to marriage having also the names Νυμφία (Nymphia)= of marriage, Μιγωντις (Migontis)= Unifying one even assciated with Hera by taking her name as an epithet Ἡρη (Iri)= of Hera (aka "of marriage") In Sparta she is worshipped for aspects of war as well thus getting names such as: Νικηφορος (Nikiphoros)= victory-bearer, Αρεια (Areia)= of war Ὡπλισμενη (Hoplismeni)= Armed While from her sea origins we get names such as Ευπλοια (Efplia)= of Fair Voyage, Ποντια (Pontia)= of the sea, Λιμενια (Limenia)= of the port and Ξένια (Xenia)= of the stranger/guest

Aphrodite is also associated like Zeus with her affairs with mortals and immortals alike. She is also the birther of heroes that eventually become founders of cities (like Aeneas) but she is also connected to the aspect of beauty which is very important in ancient Greek spectrum. Arguably her divine origins (either from the birth through the foam of the sea or through the god of Heavens, Zeus) is also associating the aspects of love and passion to a divine level for the ancient Greeks. Her association with war (either through her affair with Ares or by being a war goddess herself for the Spartans) is also associating the aspet of love with war and fighting (ironically we have the modern saying as well "All is allowed in love and in war"). Aphrodite is also associated with the rebirth of nature in one aspect through her love for the beautiful Adonis, who for her sake comes up every spring even if he is dead in the underworld. Her protective nature is also seen when she tries to take her offsprings out of harm's way even at the cost of her own pain (see for example the events of the Iliad) so in a way she is also a mother-goddes even if motherhood is not her ultimate attribute, in my opinion is a very important too.

Apollo:

For Apollo we do not have a steady association with Linear B tablets for it seems like a name we assume refers to Apollo could be written as "Hyperion" instead. Etoimologically it seems to come from roots that are used later to express a young boy coming of age as mentioned how Apollo is the "ultimate kouros" aka "ultimate youth". Homer also speaks on him as "the one with the silver arrows" to speak on his equipment. His association with archery and music but also prophetic powers earns a series of epithets linked to these;

Θεαριος (Thearios)= of the oracle, Προοψιος (Proopsios)= Forseeing, Κληριος (Klirios)= distrubuter of lottery, Μουσηγετης (Mousigetis)= Leader of Muses, Ἑκατος (Ekatos)= Shooter from afar (aka "archer"), Α��ραιος (Agraeos)= Of the wilderness (here "of the Hunt"), Αιγλητος (Egilitos)= Shining For his association with healing and disease and plague we have also: Παιαν (Pean)= of the health, Ακεσιος (Akesios)= Healer, Σμινθαιος (Sminthaeos)= of the Mice [the ancient greeks probably did connect plagues with animals as well], Παρνοπιος (Parnopios)=of the Locsts, Επικουριος (Epikourios)= Helper, Αλεξικακος (Alexikakos)= Averter of Evil, Θεοξενιος (Theoxenios)= God of Foreigners (possibly also linked that he was a protector god of the city of Ismarus that was inhabited by Thracian people), Λυκειος (Lykios)= Of the wolves On myths on which associate him with rescues by dolphins (as well as that the dolphin is one of his sacred animals) he gets the name Δελφινιος (Delphinios)= Of the Dolphin, Ακτιος (Aktios) = of the shore and Επιβατηεριος (Epivatirios)= of the sacrifices before embarking, Πυθιος (Pythios)= of the Python (from the myth that he killed the python at Delphi), Διονυσοδοτης (Dinysiodotis)= of bestowing Dionysus (for his contibution to the deification of Dionysus)

Apollo has a very rich set of myths that is very hard to put them all. But of course his birth that is associated with the island of Delos, the moving island of the prophecy and his known myth of freeing Delphi from the python that was guarding the Castallia fountain gives him the association with prophets and omens. We also know Apollo from the tragic stories of affairs he has with both men and women. Apollo despite the fact that is a very beautiful god is being widedly rejected by his love interests. A known myth is his unfortunate story of Hyakinth too who even if he was reciprocating his feelings, their story ended in a tragedy. In one essence connects his aspect with music and poetry to the tragic aspect of life. He is also associated with the Muses through his attribute of music. His lesser known association with plague and disease and also healing or calling it off can be seen through myths such as the plague of the Greeks in the Iliad and his association with Asclepius and the teachings of healing of Chiron. Of course his association with Archery can be seen in the myths, one of the most infamous was the killing of the children of Niobe who was blasphemous towards his mother.

Artemis:

Apollo's twin sister ironically appears to the tablets of Linear B as a-te-mi-to and a-ti-mi-te (in gen. and dat. respectably) as for her name's origin there are various thoughts some of them that comes from the word ¨αρκτος" (arktos) which means "bear". Either way of course we also know Artemis as archer, goddess of wilderness and hunting and protector of the virgin girls (being a irgin goddess herself). A lesser known aspect of hers is that she is also linked with childbirth and raising children since according to the myth she was born first and then assisted her mother Leto give birth to ber brother Apollo. Also she was often associated with death, especially of women thus many figures in mythology call on Artemis for death. So her epithets also reflect on her roles:

Αγροτερη (Agroteri)= of the fields (here: of the hunt), Δικτυνναια (Dyctynea)= of the (hunting) nets, Φεραια (Pheraea)= of the beasts, Ελαφιαια (Elaphiaea)= of the deer (given that deer is also her sacred animal), Λυκειη (Lykii)= of the Wolves (sharing it also with her brother), Αριστη (Aristi)= the most noble, Καλλιστη (Kallisti)= very beautiful, Ἱερεια (Iereia)= Priestess, Ποτνια Θερων (Potnia Theron)= The leader of Beasts, Ἑκατη (Ekati)= shooter from afar (sharing it with her brother), Χρυσαλακατος (Chrysalakatos)= the golden-shafted (opposing her brother who is "silver shafted"), Ελαφηβολος (Elaphivolos)= shooter of deer, Ἁγνη (Agni)= pure, chaste, Παρθένος (Parthenos)= virgin, Αιδοιος παρθενος (Aidoios Parthenos)= reverted virgin, forever virgin On her attributes on children childbirth and girls we have: Παιδοτροφος (Pedotrophos)= the nurturer of children, Φιλομειραξ (Filomirax)= friend/beloved to young girls, Ορσιλοχια (Orsilochia)= helper of childbirth (since λοχία lochia, means "childbirth"), Ἡγεμονη (Igemoni)= leader (here of dance, from myths that involve dances in wilderness)

Artemis association with birth and labor is as I mentioned above, connected to her myth of birth. She gets born first and then helps her mother give birth to her twin. Her myths connecting her to wilderness are of course connected to the various animals she has as symbols. One myth involves for example the transformation of Aktaion into a deer and her sending his own dogs against him because he saw her naked while bathing in the river. Along with her brother Apollo she shoots the children of Niobe when she claims that she is better than their mother for having more children. Thus she is associated with death especially of females since she infamously shoots the female children of Niobe while her brother shoots the male (from what I remember at least, I could be wrong on that)

Hermes:

Hermes, the messenger of gods and also the sender of souls, the protector of all who travel (including merchants and thieves) also appears in Linear B tablets as e-ma-ha. For the origins of his name I do like the version of ἕρμα (erma)= stone heap. Onc again Hermes as a god that has multiple attributes not only as a god that brings the messages to others but also protect the travelers and interesting the thieves also (Hermes himself starts his life as a thief for he steals the cows of Apollo in his first day! XD) Thus he is also linked to pastoral life and flocks! So we have:

Διακτορος (Diaktoros)= Guide/Messenger, Αγγελος Θεών (Aggelos Theon)= Messenger of the gods, Αγγελος Μακαρων (Aggelos Makaron)= messenger of the blessed (or of blessed news), Χαριδωτης (Charidiotis)= Giver of Joy, Ἑρμηνευτης (Ermineftis)= Interpreter, Ψυχοπομπός (Psychopombos)= Sender of Souls, Κυδιμος (Kydimos)= Glorious/Noble As protector of flocks and merchants we have Επιμηλιος (Epimilios)= Protector of sheep/flocks, Κριοφορος (Kriophoros)= ram-bearer, Βουφονος (Vuphonos)= killer of cattle, Οιοπολος (Iopolos)= Sheep-tending/Shephard, Αγοραίος (Agoreos)= of the Market/Agora As protector of wandrers and thieves we have: Μαστηριος (Mastirios)= Of the searchers, Πομπαιος (Pombeos)= the Guide/the one who sends, Ποικιλομητης (Pikilomitis)= of the various wiles, Δόλιος (Dolios)= Wily/Planning, Κλεψιφρων (Klepsifron)= the one with the thefty mind, Μηχανιωτης (Michaniotis)= Deceiving/Trickster, Φηλητης (Philitis)= Thief, Εναγωνιος (Enagonios)= of th Games, Προμαχος (Promachos)= Champion And one of my favorites: Πολύτροπος (Polytropos)= of many turns/ways [YUP! Odysseus again shares his epithet with a god!]

So yes Hermes very early on is being assosiated with trickery and theft given how he steals the cattle of his half-brother Apollo and then pretends being innocent (also we have the creation of the lyre by him, which he gives as a gift to Apollo) and as a messenger of gods that is constantly moving to transfer the gods' will to humans and other gods, he is always associated not only with messengers but travelers in general (wanderers, thieves, merchants etc) also as a rule-breaker he plays an important part in the Odyssey as he helps Odysseus in Aeaea on his own accord also associated with the thief Autolycus to whom he gives special powers to disguise himself (according to traditions he is also his father). Hermes also has the task to guide the souls to the underworld till the river where they will be taken by Charon or wait for 100 years if they have no money to pay him. Thus later in alchemic traditions he is linked to transformation through death as well and many associated Hermes with Thoth in Egyptian mythology.

Athena:

The oldest and most known child of Zeus in Olympian pantheon is no other than Athena. Her name also rescued from Linear B scriptures as a-ta-na (in fact the full title we have is a-ta-na po-ti-ni-ja =Potnia Athena) an there are various of suggestions on the name's etymology, I believe Plato says that her name deprives from Ἀθεονόα (Athoenoa) which deprives from he word "theos" (god) and "noisis" (mind) so her name says to be "godly knowledge" or "godly mind" (according to Plato's Cratylus 407b, they say the first α is an old and foreign way to spell η so technically he says Α θεονόα would go Η θεονόη aka "the god's knowledge/mind"). Either ay Athena is undoubtedly one goddess with various attributes that are also reflected to her names. Goddess of Wisdom born from the goddess of mind and wisdom Metis and Zeus, being born out of Zeus's head, Athena is goddess of war and war tactics, protector of crafstmen and goddess of weaving and culivation of plants (especially olive), protector of heroes and bearer of the Aegis of Zeus Athena is without a doubt one of the most prominient and mportant characters in the pantheon and some of her epithets go:

Παλλάς (Pallas)= Pallas (Arguably one of her most famous epithets. In Homer is used as part of her name, future writers such as Pindar or Plato deprives from the word "palleis" which means "to brandish" because she brandishes her aegis, others speak it comes from the name of a giantess that she killed but I believe the most beloved version is the one that has her taking this epithet from the name of the daughter of Triton who was her best friend and Athena accidentally killed and she was so devastated that in her mourning she adopted her dead friend's name as her epithet)

Τριτογένεια (Trigogeneia)= Born from the head (τριτύς=head), Κορυφασια (Koryphasia)= of the head, Γλαυκόπις (Glaukopis)= Owl-eyed (also light blue/gray or shiny-eyed), Οξυδερκης (Oxyderkis)= sharp (eyed or witted), Γοργολαφας (Gorgolaphas)= Gorgon-crested, Γιγαντολετειρα (Gigantoletira)= Destroyer of Giants, Αξιοποινος (Axiopinos)= the one of the Rightful Vengeance, Ανεμωτις (Anemotis)= of the Winds, Κελευθεια (Kelefthia)= the one who sends you on the way, Προναια (Pronaea)= the one before the temple, Παναχαια (Panachaea)= of all the Greeks, Παρθενος (Parthenos)= Virgin, Κορη (Kori)= Maiden, Αμβουλια (Amvulia)= Coincilor, Απατουρια (Apaturia)= of the deception, Μαχανιτις (Michanitis)= the one who comes up with plans, Ξενια (Xenia)= of the foreigner/of hospitality As protector of city of Athens we have: Πολιας (Polias)= of the City, Πολιουχος (Poliuchos)= the one who has the city (city-protector), Πολιατις (Poliatis)= City-keeper, Ερυμα (Eryma)= Defender, Σωτειρα (Sotira)= Savior As war goddess and associated with victory and such: Νικη (Niki)= Victory, Αρεια (Aria)= of the War, Σαλπινξ (Salpinx)= war-trumpet, Λειτις (Leitis)= distrubutor of war loot, Ζωστηρια (Zostiria)= gildred (in armor), Σθενιας (sthenias)= of the Strength, Πολεμηδοκος (Polemidokos)= war-sustaining, Ἱππια (Ippia)= of the horses, Χαλινιτις (Chalinitis)= the bridler of horses, Αλεα (Alea)= Escape (of refugees) As protector of arts and crafts: Εργανη (Ergani)= Worker, Παιωνια (Paionia)= Healer, Ὑγεια (Ygia)= (of) Health Also interestingly she also has the title Μητηρ (Mitir)= Mother even if she is not a mother-goddess maybe that is closer related to her association with helping heroes

Of course we know the countless myths Athena is involved in, from her quarrel with Poseidon over the city of Athens and the Gigantomachy where she gains her title of "destroyer of giants", in epic poems she is associating herself with some of the greatest heroes including Tydeus, his son Diomedes, Odysseus and his son Telemachus but also women such as Penelope. Of course her wonderous birth from the head of Zeus is also very important part of her titles. Also her association to her half-brotherHephaestus and their protection of crafts.

Dionysus:

Dionysus whose name literally means "Child of Zeus" or even "Young Zeus" is the youngest Olympian and the first one to be born of a mortal woman (Semele), starting from a demi-god and ending up being deified as olympian god. His name appears to Linear B tablets as di-wo-nu-so and is one of the most beloved gods to think of. He has various attributes although he is mostly known as the god of wine and festivities his rich cultural background can be also god of madness and ritual madness and ecstasy, of fertility of nature and the rebirth of it after winter, of theater and of wilderness. From the Orphic traditions he was born once more as Zagreus and killed by Hera or devoured by Titans and thus he was re-incarnated as Dionysus through Semele. His trip to the underworld and his rebirth connects him so with regeneration and rebirth and connects him to Eleusynian Mysteries. As god of madness and orgic celebrations he is also god of theater and culivation of the vine. From the orgic nature of his worship we also have epithets that connect him to the eating of animals, often associated with omophagia (raw-eating). So here are some epithets:

Δασυλλιος (Dasyllios)= of the forests, Λιμναιος (Limneos)= of the lakes/marshes, Σταφυλιτης (Staphylitis)= of the grapes, Ομφακιτης (Omphakitis)= of the unripe grape, Ληναιος (Lineos)= of the wine-press, Θεοινος (Theoinos)= God of Wine, Αγαθος Δαιμον (Agathos Demon)= Good God, Προτρυγαιος (Protrygaios)= the one who comes first for grape-picking, Οινοψ (Inops)= wine-dark (potentially reference to his dark hair according to his descriptions), Κισσιος (Kissios)= of the Ivy, Ακρατοφορος (Akratophoros)= Bringer of unmixed wine, Ανθιος (Anthios)= of the Flowers, Κιστοφορος (Kristophoros)= Basket-bearer (basket both for sacrifices also for grapes), Ερεβινθινος (Erevinthinos)= of the cheakpea, Πατρωιος (Patroios)= Paternal (god), Αισυμνητης (Asimnitis)= Dictator, Πολιτης (Politis)= Citizen Asossiation with sexuality and cullivation: Ανδρογυνος (Androgynos)= Androgynous (sexually), Φαλλην (Phallin)= Phallus, Αυξιτης (Afxitis)= the raiser in size As god of madness: Βακχος (Bacchus)= of the Bacchic frenzy, Ιοβακχος (Iobacchos)= of the bacchic-cry, Ιακχος (Iakchos)= of the ritual-cry, Μαινολης (Menolis)= Mad/Raging, Βρομιος (Vromios)= Noisy (or of the eating), Ανθροπορραιστος (Anthroporrestos)= Man-slayer, Σωτηριος (Sotirios)= Savior (recovering from madness) As a god of orgiac festivities and omophagia: Ταυροφαγος (Tavrophagos)= Bull-eater, Βουφάγος (Vuphagos)= cattle-eater, Μοσχοφαγος (Moschophagos)= calf-eater, Αιγοβολος (Egovolos)= the striker of goats, Νυκτελιος (Nyktelios)= of the night, Λαμπτηρος (Lamptiros)= of the torches/lambs, Ἑστιος (Estios)= of the feast, Μελπομενος (Melpomenos)= Singing From the orphic traditions and regeneration: Ζαγρεύς (Zagrefs)= Zagreus, Διμητωρ (Dimitor)= two mothers (or twice born), Λυσιος (Lysios)= releaser, Ελευθερευς (Eleftherefs)= Liberator, Σαωτης (Saotis)= Savior, Μυστης (Mystis)= of the mysteries, Χθονιος (Cthonios)= of the earth (also cthonic worshipping)

Without any exaggeration Dionysian worshipping festivities are some of the most ancient known n Greece and some of them survive one way or another even today. I have made some answers in regards to the dionysian worshipping process but in general he is associated with myths that involve the inducing of madness in various occasions. His followers satyrs and maenades also are involved in various of myths on their own. Dionysus is also known for being chased by Hera in various occasions and the inducing of madness by her and him being released by Rhea using the stone of Amethyst (crystal associated with wine due to its color). Dionysus is also one of the gods known for going to the underworld and reviving people or giving them immortality (such the reviving of his mother Semele and his marriage to Ariadne), thus associated with Eleusynian Mysteries and rebirth rituals. His status as god was earned from the myth that says that Zeus finished the pregnancy of Semele himself by sewing the fetus in his hip. His association with the vine has also many myths but I like the myth of Ampelos, the young Satyr that was his lover who got killed (depending onthe myth he has a different end) and was transformed to the first vine by Dionysus (or he died because he tried to pick grapes and thus Dionysus naming the plant after him) His association with theater comes from his dionysian celebrations where people wear animal skins or masks and dance in their ritual ecstasy, literally becoming someone else while also dancing and singing as a chorus (choir), thus the association with theater and the ritual offerings to Dionysus before a theatrical performace

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Sorry I was so late my friend! Your ask was one of the most extensive I ever had and I wanted to include as many pieces of information as I could! And this is but a sample! I will be glad to analyze further specifics you might think you want to hear more and give you the myth behind it if it exists because man this is like a thematic for an entire book I swear! Hahahahaha

Other honorable mentions could be Hestia and Hades

Hades:

The last out of the three great gods including Poseidon and Zeus and he inherits the realm of the dead. In fact oftentimes especially after the 5th century BC the word "Hades" (Άδης) was used to indicate the underworld itself while the god was being referred to with the name Πολύτων which means "Wealthy" or "Wealth" and the name was later taken by the Romans as "Pluto". Hades was a hated god to woship because he was connected to the essences of death which Greeks disliked (in the homeric hymns for instance Hades is often not even named but he is referred to as "The one with The Many Names" The name deprives according to Plato from the word that means "unseen" Due to the fact that he was so feared because of the essence of death, by n large there is no cult for Hades in temples but Hades is honored to funerary rights and necromantic rituals. So epithets and cult names are rather scarce but interesting non the less:

Πλουτων (Pluton)= of the Wealth, Θεων Χθονιος (Theon Chthonios)= God of the Underworld, Ζευς Χθόνιος (Zefs Chthonios)= Zeus of the Underworld, Πολυσημαντωρ (Polysimandor)= The ruler of many, Πολυδεγμων (Polydegmon)= Host of Many, Πολυξενος (Polyxenos)= the host of many, Νεκροδεγμων (Nekrodegmon)= Receiver of the dead And my favorite: Νεκρων Σωτηρ (Nekron Sotir)= the Savior of the Dead

There are not THAT many myths that include him except of course the infamous kidnapping (and depending on source) rape of Persephone which also leads to the change of seasons. In one essence the way that he is worshipped during the dunerals AND is associated with this myth in a way seems to connect together the essences of life and death; rebirth and doom or even marriage and death which often go side by side (see for instance how often women died in childbirth or young). However I love the term "Zeus of the Underworld" showing how powerful he was feared to be. Especially since like Zeus he has a domain that is untouchable by humans (Heaven and Underworld) but I also love how he is known to be also a "Host" to the dead and also a "Savior". That last one touches me really much.

Hestia:

Hestia is one of the siblings born out of Cronus, the oldest one according to tradition. As a goddess she is the goddess of the house and household. She never leaves Olympus and rarely ever leaves the kitchen where she feeds all these endless mouths of Olympian gods and their entourages! Like Athena and Artemis she is sworn to remain a virgin and unmarried. Her worship is really important. For starters the house fire that burns in every Greek House is dedicated to her (her very name means "heath of fire" nowadays)

Unfortunately cannot find epithets as such dedicated to her. She is known as a Virgin goddess just like others before her in this list. She is known as the Goddess of Altars and Heaths. Oftentimes she is not even depicted, possibly to indicate her importance by the absense of image. Her sacred animal is the pig which again is an animal that can give to people pretty much everything from meat till blood till skin and bone.

Of myths again I know only of one, her attempt of rape by Priapus or rather that Priapus tried to sneak on her while she was sleeping, she wakes up and screams and Priapus is scared for his life and runs off. Generally she is worshipped and honored like a good lady of the house. She has altars everywhere (arguably ALL altars are in one way dedicated to her)