#the songs are usually love songs of sorts. and her doing this is one reasons i know of and love the song invisible touch by genisis

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: June 7

"STFU!" by Rina Sawayama

[supercutszns]

rotten to the touch; luke castellan

series masterlist

wc: 3.2k

pairing: pre-tlt luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: you’re pretty sure you’re an awful person. you’re pretty sure luke castellan is too. and you’re pretty sure you want to make out with him.

warnings: reader is flawed & not the greatest, luke is ... a little dark🫣, small mention of blood, swearing, lots of making out but no explicit nsfw, a bit toxic, & no more more ‘i can fix him’ or ‘i can make him worse’ it’s ‘he can make ME worse’

notes: this is… sluttier than my usual stuff so it’s not as good but i’m trying, feedback is appreciated! also i wonder what cabin we think this reader would be in, let me know where you’d place her im curious :) maybe i’ll write more of her in the future she’s interesting!! and thank you for 100 followers i am so grateful<3 designated song for this fic is crush by ethel cain

You are a miserable, wicked, asshole of a person, and everybody knows it. Including you.

It’s unclear to you why you turned out this way—every reason to blame never satiates the fury searing your insides. All the campers hate you. The counsellors, too. Even Chiron looks down on the viciousness inside you. You are Camp Half-Blood’s black sheep; a mean, bitter person with no love for the people around you. And it’s not just for show. You know you’re rotten. You know the anger will never go away.

It’s evident in the things you think about other people—the way you pick them apart in your head, toss them aside, because they just don’t see it. This miserable, unforgiving world, with children sleeping on wooden floors because the people who created you think you disposable. Because they can just make more of you. More, more, more, until one of you comes out rotten, born of all the ugliness they have inside them. You are the worst parts of Godly blood. The wrathful parts.

Everyone hates you. Everyone hates a person with an unquenchable anger.

But everyone loves Luke Castellan.

He’s a saint at Camp Half-Blood if there ever was one. Handsome, generous, kind. Goes out of his way to help out the new kids and gives them homes in his cabin. He’s the best swordsman in camp by a mile. Shit, you’d even love Luke Castellan if you didn’t know any better.

But you do, and you don’t, and it’s complicated, okay?

Because there’s something you know about Luke Castellan that nobody else does: he’s miserable and wicked, too.

You see it in his eyes sometimes. The way they look at you at dinner, when you’re picking at your food away from anyone else at your table. Something familiar rises in them, and your stomach twists. His body tenses whenever someone mentions his father, but the smiles he flashes are so charismatic nobody notices. But you do. It’s exciting.

During sword practice, he quips back and forth with the kids and laughs whenever they take a jab at him. He’s light, easy, carefree. But you see how he holds back, the tension in his shoulder, the way the arc of his sword never fully finishes. So you wait until everybody leaves and he’s alone, with the training dummies and the setting sun. And you. Hiding.

He slashes through them and spears through their heads. You see it, the gnashing of his teeth, the sweat curling down his cheeks. There’s something there. A chasm he’s hopeless to fill.

Before you know it, you’re going out of your way to catch him training alone. It’s creepy, you know, and awful, you know, but the more you watch him the more you see a sort of violence scabbed under his skin.

Whenever you see him now, the feeling you get is entirely foreign to you. It’s almost . . . longing.

Wherever she is, you’re pretty sure Aphrodite’s having a cosmic fucking laugh. And you’re sure she’s laughing double tonight.

The Aphrodite cabin is hosting some secret party for the older counsellors. You’re definitely of age to be a counsellor, but you’ve never been made one because that would probably make half the campers drop out. Chiron and Mr. D don’t know what to do with you. You’re sure you’ll be kicked out of camp soon for good.

But you’re here anyways, for a reason you don’t want to admit, and you stay tucked in a corner as the world around you mingles. Luke is on the other side of the room, lovely as always, laughing with a few other counsellors. He brings a drink up to his lips, and you have a startling thought of what it would be like to kiss him. And you’re fucked. You’re so fucked. Because for the first time in your life you want something tangible, something real. You want to hear him and feel him and pry him apart, and a part of you wants him to actually see you, see all the awful things that might make you the same. You feel like a teenage girl with a crush, and it is infuriating.

An Aphrodite girl comes up to you with a foolish smile. “Hey, sorry, you want a drink?”

“Fuck off, you idiot,” you snarl.

You wait for her to leave. She doesn’t. “You know, you don’t have to be so mean all the time,” she says evenly. “If you’re here, you might as well enjoy it. So yes, I want to give you a drink.”

“Have you ever thought that I’m not being mean? Maybe I just am.”

You glare at her. She looks you up and down. “Sure,” she shrugs, walking away. There’s a vivid picture in your mind of her falling through a hole in the cabin floor. It doesn’t soothe you, but at least the fantasy is there.

The night drones on. You’re sick of the smells and the laughs and the heat. And you’re sick of yourself. You can’t believe, underneath all your sourness, you came here to stare at a boy you barely know, and you don’t even know why. He’s fascinating, and you resent him, and he’s also beautiful. But he’s looked back at you all of three times tonight and you’re sick of the way your skin crawls when he does.

Leaving the cabin brings the relief of the cool night air, and the singularity of your body. You are the only one who feels this rage. You are the only one who hates.

To stave off your discomfort you walk around to the back of the cabin, to the crest of the hill facing the water. The stars above twinkle at you in spite. There’s a bitterness in your throat you want to wash down with something worse (maybe you should have taken that drink), but you know it won’t matter. Nothing matters. Those stars and whatever they hide are apparently the only important things in the universe, so why should anyone care about anything?

They stars only get brighter. It’s probably their goal to piss you off. You grunt, “Oh, fuck you,” to them. It’s not enough, never nearly enough to expel the rotten part of you. “Fuck you. Fuck off!” You groan at the sky. Nothing happens. Until:

“I’m guessing you’re not having a fun night.”

You whirl around. It’s hard to see in the dark, but whatever light is left catches a long scar on a cheek. Your stomach knots.

“Yeah, me neither,” Luke Castellan says, hands in his pockets as he meanders towards you.

Even when he’s close enough, you don’t say anything. If you do, you’re afraid it’ll be something ugly. Like I kind of want to make out with you. Are you awful too? I need a lobotomy.

The thoughts almost make you laugh. Been a long time since you’ve been funny.

He nods at the sky. “Those things don’t talk. You do know that, right?” He’s still so captivating, so self-assured, even when there’s no one around but you.

“Gods, you’re the worst,” you scoff. You really mean it, so you can’t look him in the eye.

“Then why have you been staring at me all night?”

It catches you so off-guard that you whip back to face him. He has an eyebrow raised and the itch of a smile that makes you burn with shame. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He shrugs, leaning against the cabin wall. “I’m not stupid. You’ve been brooding in the corner watching me the second you came in.” He cocks his head to the side, adding, “Actually, you stare at me all the time. At meals and stuff. I really hope you don’t think you’re being subtle.”

You huff. “Okay, if we’re really being honest here, you started that! You do it too! All the time!”

His hands shot up like he was being arrested. “Hey, I never said I minded it. A guy’s . . . just gotta wonder. What’s up with you spying on me when I’m training alone, anyways?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You watch me when there’s nobody else around. I’m not blind. It’s weird. If you want tips you can just ask me. Or if you like what you’re looking at, at least be upfront about it.”

You speak before you can take in that last sentence, or the way his smile took pride in itself when he said it, or how embarrassed you should probably feel. “You didn’t answer my question about why you started staring at me first.”

The anger (shame) blinding you made you forget how close you are to him right now. Close enough to touch, but not enough to see. But almost there. Almost.

“People think you’re mean,” Luke says after a moment, his dark eyes probing you. The words curl out of his mouth slowly, like he’s choosing them all with care. “You’re rude. You never listen to anyone. You judge everything. They all think you’re awful.” Again, he looks you over. “I’m not so sure.”

“If I’m awful, then you’re awful,” you spit before he can say anything else.

He just shrugs. “Well, I guess that’s why I’m not sure.”

It’s irritating, his calmness. He has the same anger you do. How come he can just . . . shove it down? You try to unearth any fury in his eyes, but it’s too far back. Simmering. “Jesus,” you mutter, “You’re worse than me.”

He looks genuinely taken aback by this. His scar deepens when his brows wrinkle. “What?”

“You’re a pretender—that’s what you are.” It’s your turn now, to step closer, to make his skin crawl. “Look at you. Everyone loves you. You’re this perfect golden boy and you’re sweet and attentive and whatever the fuck but you know it’s one giant lie. At least I’m honest, but you just sit pretty and act like you don’t have that . . . thing that I have. Resentment. Insanity. Whatever you want to call it. We’re the same, but I’m the only one getting shit for it.”

Now, you are close enough to really see him. The patterns on the wood behind him frame the vision of his ever-shifting face. You realize that this, like most things are to Luke Castellan, is a challenge. You also can’t remember the last time you saw him lose one.

But when you play, you play to win.

“You don’t know that,” he dares.

“Oh, I do. You’re rotten, Castellan,” you sneer, index finger jabbed into his chest. You can feel his heartbeat if you concentrate. “And you’re not owning up to it, so you’re also a coward.”

However scathing you look, it isn’t enough. If anything it only makes Luke’s manner more playful. Nothing feels playful anymore. Everything, inside and outside of your mind, feels like constant, exhausting war. Maybe that’s why you don’t slap his hand off you when it wraps around your wrist, keeping it pressed to the middle of his chest. His heartbeat thrums through you.

He tilts his face towards you, grinning, “Then why do you want to kiss me?”

All right. What the fuck. It feels like you’ve been electrocuted.

“What the—what are you talking about?” You blunder, but he knows, of course he knows, because there’s something between the two of you that has been formed and understood by eye contact alone. He can probably read your mind. As much as you don’t want to admit it, you’d like to read his just as much.

He cocks his head. “I mean, you did call me pretty,” he teases, and it’s almost endearing. “You’re pretty like this too.” His other hand comes up to your face, and you’re surprised you don’t flinch when his thumb gently smooths the crease in your eyebrows. “Don’t call me a coward, heathen. Then we’ll both be embarrassed.”

The nickname makes you want to fight, but the touch makes you dizzy. “You don’t want to kiss me, Luke,” you say with all the control you have, which, right now, is increasingly sparse.

“You’ve gotta stop telling people what they want,” he muses. The hand on your wrist traces further down your forearm. The one on your face snakes around your hips. “One of your more disagreeable qualities.”

His words fan over you. That fire simmering in his eyes has finally come to the surface.

“One of?” You challenge.

“You let me make out with you and I’ll give you a whole list.”

You snort, hoping it hides the shortness in your breath. “What a charmer you are.”

His lips brush yours. “Well, that’s what makes me so rotten, isn’t it?”

There’s hardly time to unravel if that’s a question or a statement because you grab a fistful of his shirt and he kisses you. Your heart detonates. It is not rotten in the slightest.

His body is warm and firm. You smell the cabin wood and the drink on his breath. It all matters, and none of it does. You’re warm everywhere as he wraps both arms around your back, and the way he kisses is, unfortunately, exactly how you thought he would. Your hands are tentative in his hair. So is your mouth on his. But Luke is so deliberate in the way he kisses that you know he’s thought about this, too. It makes you all the warmer.

His hand takes your jaw and tilts it up. You know your neck is shaky with breath, and you’re pretty sure he’s admiring it. You don’t complain when he presses a kiss to your jaw, then another one, like he’s testing the waters. “You’re so nice like this,” he mutters almost to himself, thumb running across your neck. “If only people could see you.”

“Then they’d see how mean you are too, no?” You huff. “You don’t want that.”

Another kiss to your jaw. “Not yet, sweetheart.”

Whatever feeling is harbouring in your body right now, it’s so fulfilling it almost makes you uncomfortable. You want to reject it. You’re not supposed to want things. Worse, you’re not supposed to get things. Luke starts marking a path down your neck and you are so determined to enjoy this that you’d kiss a fucking baby if someone asked you to. You might as well be a saint.

He bites the pulse point on your neck, sure to leave a mark, and a shudder rips through you. You’re pretty sure the bastard starts laughing. You hit his shoulder in retaliation.

“Easy, heathen,” he reprimands in your ear, and you know he’s still smiling.

“Don’t—don’t call me that.” You hate that you start to smile, too, and that your stomach burgeons with butterflies when he pulls back to look at you.

He touches the corner of your upturned mouth, kiss-bitten and red. His expression is boyish. “Hard to when it makes your face do that,” he goads. “I thought it was impossible for you to smile.”

“Be quiet.” You thread a hand through his camp necklace and bring him closer. You can almost taste his mouth on yours, but he sweeps past you at the last minute.

He gently tugs your earlobe with his teeth and whispers, “Yes ma’am.”

Fuck him. Seriously. You might have to.

It’s a tangle of teeth and hands and smiles kept hidden, as you slip your fingertips beneath his shirt and he does the same, and you’re both angry and greedy and incredibly destructive, but it doesn’t matter yet. Now you’re just teenagers fooling around at the back of a party, and it’s the first good thing either of you have had in a long time. Luke leaves you gasping whenever his mouth hits certain places, maybe too many places, and he teases you accordingly. “So sensitive,” he taunts, pressing his knee between your legs so he can see you squirm. You rake your nails through his scalp and he tilts his head back to groan. It shuts him up for a while.

He bites your neck until you say his name. You trace lines on his stomach till he takes your hand in his own. You’ve been hungry for something your whole life, and you finally have something to sink your teeth into. For better or for worse.

After Hades knows how long, laughter floats out from the front of the cabin. Sounds of feet tripping over each other and muffled goodbyes. You pull away from Luke, chests heaving together. His hair is wild, his shirt crumpled, and he looks entirely satisfied with it. Smug little shit. “Party’s letting out,” you mutter.

“What a damn shame.” His hand rubs your jaw, and it’s too tender a gesture so you angle your head away to peek over the side of the cabin. You barely pay attention to the kids straggling back to their bunks.

“Is now the time you tell me all my horrible qualities?” You ask once you’re ready to look at him again.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Actually, I came up with more since I said that so I’m pretty sure it’ll take more than one night.” He fakes a wince, “Might have to spread it out for a few days.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, you ass.”

“I’ll give you one for starters.” You feel like a tornado when he kisses the juncture between your jaw and your neck. “Your hands are too cold.” They’re tucked underneath his shirt right now, pressed against his back. You don’t move them. “And,” he adds, “you’re incredibly crass.”

“Thanks, dipshit.”

“Thank you for proving my point, heathen.”

The commotion at the front gets louder, and you know your time to go undiscovered runs short. “You meet me again tomorrow, and I start telling you the rest?” He raises his brows.

The prospect both repulses and excites you, although perhaps they’re hand-in-hand. You tentatively reach up to trace the scar on his face. A faint, jagged line that holds scripture within it. His eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Even though I’m rotten?” You ask, and there’s an echo of mischief in your voice, too.

He’s got a strange expression when he looks at you. “That’s not true.”

He leans down, angles his head to kiss you. It’s slow, but bitter, and he bites down on your lip until you’re pretty sure there’s blood. “Luke,” you murmur, and he kisses you softer. You lean into him like a hapless, lovesick fool.

After you part, he loosens his grip on you. The bumbling campers have gotten louder. He stares at you, and you see the chasm in his eyes again, brimming with fire. Same as yours. You know you’ll see him tomorrow.

He says, “You’re not rotten. You’re right.”

And damn it, you really do believe him.

[prettieinpink]

NEW YEAR, NEW ME

( A collab with thee lovely lele @bloombabydoll )

If you want to reinvent and rebrand yourself, or just continue to make positive improvements in 2024, the first thing is to evaluate your current year. 

EVALUATION

Reflect on how things went for you. Was there continuous growth? Were there many difficult times? Did you discover anything major about yourself and so on. Try to summarise your year in (a) paragraph(s) at least. 

Oversee your goals. Which ones you didn’t, did achieve, difficult ones, easy ones and the impacts it had on your life. 

Compare your dream girl then and now. Is your visualisation of your life currently different to the one you have now and why? 

List any major losses or successes you’ve had in your life, and how they have helped you or why it matters to you. 

This evaluation can be as detailed or simple as you like, but as long as you have a decent outline of your year. 

PREPARING & PLANNING

To prepare for 2024, you want to know what you want life to be like in 2024. Something realistic to a point, but still is a growth journey. 

Think of something that you can associate with 2024. This can be a word, a symbol, art, a song, a book, a movie, a place, or even just all of these things. When you think about your goals and your journey, this is your theme. This is something that should relate to your goals or your dream girl somehow. 

For me, I chose a word and a song. My word is growth because, for me, 2023 was a year for just being able to shed my old self which I did achieve however I just felt there wasn’t much growth as an actual person and not just in my environment. 

For my song, it is Mayflowers by Proleters and Taskrok. This song is the epitome of what I would imagine, is the most polished mindset. I would say perfect, but having a perfect mindset is near impossible. I want to have a mindset glow up because I’ve just been hard on myself lately which has caused my confidence to plummet. 

Before we get into the fun part of the preparation stage, we have to do some organisation in our life. I want you to take a look at your daily lifestyle and your habits, and be completely unashamed about this. 

Then categorise these habits into two sections; Leave and Leap. Leave habits are habits that you are leaving behind in 2023, leap habits are habits that are leaping into 2024 with you. 

Any habits that are self-destructive, addictive or generally harmful are leave habits. Beneficial habits and self-building are leaping with you into the new year.

I want you to do the same for people in your life, all environments (school, work, online etc) and anything else you believe needs to be sorted out. 

This works better if you can reason with yourself why it is a leaping or leaving habit, but don’t try to convince yourself a bad habit is good or vice versa. 

Now, I want you to document an honest paragraph about who you are right now. List your bad and good habits, your strengths and weaknesses and your behaviours. This one requires a bit more detail. 

Then, write a paragraph about who you will be in 2024, your dream girl. List her habits, lifestyle, behaviours, mindset, strengths and anything else extra. I’ll explain later but do not include materialistic desires in this your dream girl. Once again, this one also requires details. 

Stemming from those paragraphs, I want you to create specific and achievable goals. SMART goals are best, but I want to introduce you to how I set goals. 

I divide my year into quarters. For each 3 months, I have 3-5 goals for those months. Usually, it’s one from each area of my life. Then, I break down these goals. 

Questions and How They Help 

Why do I want to do this goal - For motivation and commitment. 

How it’ll benefit me - For the sake of improvement. 

How can I involve myself in this goal - To achieve your goal.  

I prefer this method because it is a lot simpler for me, as I am just a young girl and my bigger goals are more in the future in which I’ll utilise SMART goals. 

To create good goals; Make sure they align with your current values and life principles first. Try to avoid creating goals that you have just taken from the internet. Those goals just aren’t it and you most likely won’t follow through with it. 

Be specific. Don’t say you want to eat more healthily, instead say you want to include (a certain group of veggies/fruits) in your diet and reduce the intake of ( food/drink). 

E.g using eating healthy example

I want to eat healthy -> I want to start including foods that boost my immunity system and support my skin while reducing those that have the opposite effect. 

Then break down those quarterly goals into monthly, weekly and daily goals. Make these habits that you can establish in your lifestyle and have a way in which you can refer back to your progress. 

EXAMPLE GOAL BREAKDOWN

Quarterly Goal - Read 6 books.  

Monthly Goal - Finish 2 books.

Weekly Goal - Be or near half way of one book.

Daily Goal - 20 minutes of reading per day. 

AREAS TO SET GOALS IN YOUR LIFE

Academics

Spiritual

Fitness/sport

Health and wellbeing

Mental health

Personal life

Relationships

Hobbies and recreation

Now for the best part- vision boards! Collect all of your favourite images that embody your quarters or the whole year, then put them in one place where you can see them regularly!

Some ideas are a scrapbook, Pinterest boards, mood boards, playlists etc. 

Choose your theme; It can be your healthy girl era, your academic come back or whatever you want. You can have more than two btw.

Use quotes! Then actually say them in your daily life as a way to shift your mindset to reflect said quote.

Include inspirational people. It doesn't even have to be a millionaire or a very well established person, it could be your friends or someone on the internet.

Be imaginative. Your vision board doesn't have to realistic in my opinion, as the whole point of it to me is that viewing it daily and considering it to be part of your life one day allows for you to open up to those opportunities.

Materialistic Wants

I feel obligated to make this a separate section. This section is practically tangible objects that you want.

However, when choosing this said object that you want, mindfully think about why you want that thing specifically.

It doesn’t have to be meaningful, but as long as each thing on that list has got a purpose to you, and will serve you, I think it’s all good!

Conclusion

If you want, you can definitely start implementing habits before January. However, I believe that as long as you go into 2024 at least knowing who you want to be and shedding away any limiting beliefs, you’ll be fine.

Make sure to incorporate some self care rituals into your daily life as well✨

To end this, I hope everyone has a very merry Christmas! And that 2024 they will achieve to close that gap with their current selves and their dream girl selves! 💖🙏

[crumbledcastle28]

Joel Miller: Stay Down

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: Joel thought he had grown accustomed to fear until he finds you covered in blood.

Excerpt: He swallowed, attempting to choose his words carefully. He had never been good with them, attributing his deficiency to a long line of likewise men before him. His brain poured for sonnets, poetry, prose that he had read in his insignificant time on this planet. Something to impress you, distract you, to take away that crestfallen look in your eye.

He couldn’t do it. He never would be. So, he used his mouth for something else.

Warnings: stitching of a wound, kissing, blood, blood loss, so much yearning, unestablished relationship, probably incorrect gun talk, Joel is scared of feelings.

A/N: This is me coping with the fact that we do not get more last of us in January. Also partially inspired by my favorite song maybe ever.

Pedro Masterlist

All my writing

Joel had found his hands becoming more and more susceptible to the cold as he got older.

They would crack and bleed, flaking dried skin within his decades-old gloves before November had even begun. This not only hurt like hell, but forced him to slow down and think about what he was doing to his body for once in his life. He had a harder time gripping the reins on a horse or fingering the trigger on a shotgun. Noticeably so. And living in a small town with a little brother foaming at the mouth to make old man jokes didn't help matters.

This is what led him to you.

He wouldn't call you a hoarder. Honestly, he would be the first to admit that you were one of the smartest people in Jackson. You had somehow become one of the most materialistically rich people in the town. You consistently managed to find the most randomly useful items on your patrols, things that people before the outbreak would never have even thought to miss.

Things like shoe insoles, ball point pens, Chapstick.

And luckily for him, lotion.

You never charged anyone for taking from what you had. Furthermore, you actively asked people if they needed anything. Even offering to scout around the area in search of specifics. Joel hadn't been around that kind of softness since...

Well, a long time.

This made him uncharacteristically nervous when he first approached your doorstep, but he knocked anyway. He had never in a million years expected to leave that house satisfied in more ways than one.

He blamed it on that stupid crinkle the skin underneath your eyes got whenever you smiled at him. He couldn't help but fall into your light.

This started a... friendship. Of sorts. He would come over when he needed you, and you would happily oblige. As time went on, the visits to yours became more and more frequent, frequent enough that the rest of the town seemed to be catching on. At least, that's what his brother had been hinting at through jabs and side comments.

"You smiled at me the other day, Joel," Tommy had said. "Actually smiled."

Joel responded with a gesture he was hoping Ellie would not pick up anytime soon.

Joel was...happy. Happy with the arrangement. He had a warm body – a fucking gorgeous warm body – to get his energy out with, and the woman inside the body seemingly had no issue with his lack of strings attached.

And yet, for some reason, this annoyed him.

There was some undetectable, bruised part of him that wanted you to…what exactly? Fight him on it? Confess your undying love for him? Pull him back into bed to cuddle?

There had to be either pheromones or crack cocaine in that honeyed floral perfume you always wore. You were beginning to drive him this insane. Unfortunately for him, the place he went when he was beginning to toe that line into insanity was always you.

Joel had checked the schedule posted in the main square, assigning every able-bodied person shifts of patrol. You had a shift earlier in the day, which usually kept you busy until noon. You would then shower, eat, and spend the rest of the afternoon doing whatever the hell you wanted.

Overtime, these mental gymnastics became muscle memory to Joel.

He huffed as he lugged his aching legs up your steps, their typical milk white now coated in an ugly muddy brown. Winter had begun, apparent by the puffs of Joel’s own breaths, and the snow in Jackson was trying desperately to keep up.

Joel balled his hands into fists as he planted both feet onto your porch, blowing into them quickly, before knocking three times. Spaced out enough, but not too much. He envisioned you smiling as you heard his signature knock, but cringed at himself internally, burying the thought instantly.

It fluttered back to the surface when he heard the pads of your footsteps somewhere in the house begin but extinguished itself when they dissipated.

He waited a few more seconds, the rational part of his brain saying that you must be in the middle of something, but the man part of his brain imagining you putting on your silky red robe he loved so much, only for him to take it off you so slowly it made his own fingers shake. He breathed in deep, the laundry detergent from his nylon coat mixed with the beginnings of December filling his nose, and cracked his neck while rocking back and forth on his heels.

His eyebrows came together when he heard another rustle, then nothing.

He knocked again.

Still, nothing,

He knew you were in there – he could hear you, clear as day, and he knew you could hear him – but for some reason, you weren’t coming to the door.

His much too weathered mind began to race, thinking of three possible explanations. One, you heard him knocking, and were ignoring him. Two, you somehow were not hearing him knock on the door. Or three, you for some reason were not able to get to the door.

Meaning, there was a possibility you weren’t alone in there, and not by choice.

“Y/N?” he asked loudly. “Y/N, are you in there?”

Nothing. A bit more rustling, maybe a slight groan, but nothing.

Joel’s fingers began to tingle, and it wasn’t from the cold. He knocked again, harder.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there,” he said loudly, “just…just tell me you’re okay.”

Silence.

He gripped the doorknob and jiggled it, hard enough for the wood to groan underneath his fingertips, but it was locked from the inside. He huffed, knocking again, his hot breaths now clouding his face. He felt an ache in his wrist.

He said your name one more time, hearing the beginnings of a voice he knew better than he should have muffled by the wood, and the door was flat in front of him before he could think twice.

He stomped his way inside, coating the ground with mud and snow, and his eyes darted around the familiar living room. His vision was tunneled, scrounging for the shape of you on the floor, draped over the couch, held at gunpoint. His heart pulsed in his ears.

You weren’t in the living room.

He stomped into the kitchen, the bathroom, the basement, nothing. All that was left was the bedroom.

There was no way in hell you were still asleep.

He practically sprinted to the room, preparing himself. He had seen what men did to women, the remnants of it anyway, and despite his state of denial, he could never in a million years handle the sight of you that way. In your own bed. In your own house. Likely one of your own friends.

He pulled open the door anyway, and was met with gold.

The room was dim except for the lamps you loved so dearly, spreading their warm, glowing, honeyed light across the room in streaks. He blinked his eyes to adjust, focusing in on your body on the bed. You were facing him, skin painted with similar golden streaks, highlighting the tears culminating under your eyes. You were sat crisscrossed, upper body totally bare, back slouched tightly, your body practically folded in on itself. Your right hand was pressed against your left shoulder blade, while your other was filled with wine-colored rags.

Blood-soaked rags.

His eyes met yours quickly, and despite their dampness, they still had that fucking crinkle.

You chuckled, your shoulders dropping up and down quickly as they always do.

“You know,” you said, voice curdled and tired, “if someone doesn’t answer the door, that’s usually them saying ‘leave me the hell alone.”

You chuckled again, this time finishing it off with a wince.

His hand slid slowly from the doorknob as he took a hesitant step towards you, his body tearing itself in half. One side begging to fold your body into him, bubbling you in a cocoon. The other, itching to tear whatever did this to you apart ligament by ligament.

Your eyes slowly drooped from humor to something like shame, like a kicked dog or a broken child, and he stepped forward again.

“Don’t,” you countered weakly. “Just…just don’t.”

You scooted away from him slightly, refusing to look at him, and applied more pressure to whatever was expelling that much blood from your shoulder. Pain was suddenly present in your face.

“You want me to leave?” he quickly countered.

You said nothing.

He walked to you, removing the hand you had pressed against your wound, and sucked in a quick breath.

“Probably the first time you’ve seen a revolver bullet in about twenty years, huh Joel?” you asked, chuckling once more.

He barely heard you.

You had gotten the bullet out, but it had sunken in deep. The skin around it was red and welting, so swollen that Joel had to guess you had already been working on it for at least an hour. He winced, imagining what kind of pain you were in, and the fact that you were dealing with it all yourself.

He swallowed grimly.

“Hand me that rag,” he said. He could tell how little strength you had left to fight him by how quickly the rag flopped into his hand.

He pressed it to the wound, and you hissed.

“Fuck Joel,” you whined, squeezing the covers of your bed so tightly your knuckles went white. He held his pressure, forcing himself to think straight.

He might as well have been feeling the pain in his own shoulder.

He finally eased his pressure, wiping away as much blood from the area as he could.

“You cleaned it pretty well,” he said softly, voice thick in his throat, so thick it was hard to speak. “But…it’s gonna need a stich or two.”

“Or seven,” you said, grabbing the first aid kit sat in the middle of the bed. You opened the bag with shaking hands, taking out the needle and thread. You attempted to begin threading the needle, but with your hands quaking so fiercely you only produced frustrated grunts and sighs. He moved to the front of the bed, the front of his body facing yours, and took the needle and thread from your hands, setting them to the side. He then held your hands in his, squeezing them slightly, before using one to tilt your chin up at him.

He sighed at the storm in your eyes.

“What happened?”

“Did you kick my fucking door down?”

“What happened?”

“I was stupid, that’s what happened.”

He sighed again. “You’ve never once been stupid.”

“Today I was.”

“How?”

“It’s how I always am.” Your voice cracked. “Thought I could pick some apples for Mrs. Lawrence down the street. She always talks about how much she loved that as a kid – a freshly picked apple. Went out too far. Felt a sudden burning in my shoulder and ended up having to take out six hunters all by myself. Six.”

A single tear dripped from your left eye, the gold from the lamps turning it to sunlight.

“I could’ve died. All for a fucking apple.”

You turned away from him again, and it took everything in him not to cup your face in his hands and turn you back to him. He had never seen you like this before. So… raw. Beaten. Trampled. Doused in self-hatred. He hated it.

And yet, he didn’t want to look away. He was slowly realizing that this was the part of you he had been desperate to see. Truth. Undercarriage. Weakness.

Human.

He swallowed, attempting to choose his words carefully. He had never been good with them, attributing his deficiency to a long line of likewise men before him. His brain poured for sonnets, poetry, prose that he had read in his insignificant time on this planet. Something to impress you, distract you, to take away that crestfallen look in your eye.

He couldn’t do it. He never would be. So, he used his mouth for something else.

Slowly, gentler than he ever had in his life, he brought his mouth to your cheekbone. You exhaled a prolonged breath, the heat of it cascading down the left side of his neck. It only prompted him to kiss you more, and more, and more. His lips traveling up into your hairline, across your forehead, down your nose, and finally onto your lips. His kiss there was tongueless, rather a soft press, and yet it meant more to him than any other one you had ever shared.

He could tell by your breathing that you agreed.

He pressed his forehead against yours, swallowing thickly. “I’m glad you didn’t. I don’t know…I don’t know what I would do if you did.”

Your stormy eyes turned into a sunrise, and Joel straightened his aching back to slowly remove his coat and boots. He placed them on the floor beside your bed, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. You watched him just the same, mouth propped open slightly.

He smirked as he set his things down. He then picked up the needle and thread while using his free hand to frame your face.

“I’ll be gentle,” he said, his thumb stroking your chin. “I promise.”

You nodded. “I know you will.”

His lips wanted to meet yours so badly it hurt, but he needed to stitch you. Quickly. For a wound as deep as the one you had, it should have been closed up hours ago.

He wouldn’t think about that now. He couldn’t.

He walked to the edge of the bed and turned you around, leaning you into him slightly to give your pretzeled back some support, and began.  

You were surprisingly unreactive when he first inserted the needle, taking it as delicately as he possibly could. It wasn’t until he began to tug the skin together that your body showed signs of pain.

“You’re going too slow,” you mumbled softly after he finished the second stitch. “Please go faster.”

His hands began to shake at your request. He didn’t blame you. Speed would make it hurt worse, but be over with quicker. He squeezed the top of your shoulder in response, threading the needle quickly and stitching over the center of the wound.

You let out a high-pitched whine, gripping onto the comforter at your side, and he couldn’t help but kiss the back of your neck.

He let your breathing steady, then stitched again, this time kissing your shoulder blade.

Another stitch, a kiss across your shoulders.

Another stitch, a kiss down your spine.

Another stitch, a kiss on your lower back.

After every stitch, he planted one. Something in him couldn’t help it.

He made his final stitch and cut the thread quickly, sealing it with a kiss on the side of your face. He tasted a mix of salty tears and heat from your skin. He watched your throat bobble as he moved away, finishing off the wound with a final cleaning. Alcohol and blood filled the air, along with undertones of sweat.

He had a feeling that last aroma came mostly from him.

He threw the needle and thread away into the small garbage can you kept near your bed before turning back to face you. You rested on the balls of your palms, leaning back to look at him as he walked back towards you. There was pain visible behind your eyes, he could see it, but they were coated in something else. Something somehow rawer than before.

“You should rest now,” he said, scruff evident in his voice from lack of use. He cleared it quickly. “You took a hell of a hit.”

You didn’t move. Joel moved to the first aid kit still sitting in the middle of the bed and used the (what had to be decades old) wet wipes on his hands. He tossed those as well, but you still hadn’t moved.

“There somethin’ on my face?”

You cracked a small smile. “Thank you, Joel,” you said quietly.

He hummed. “Don’t mention it.” He then leaned forward and scooped your body into his arms. You involuntarily rested against him, eyes fluttering already, but he set you down beneath your sheets and swiftly pulled them over you.

He laughed at your fight against your own exhaustion, pushing stray hairs away from your forehead. He pulled away from you, beginning to walk out of the room. A fierce grip pulled him backwards.

“Stay,” you mumbled weakly. “Please stay.”

He inhaled deeply. The sweet cocktail of your voice mixed with those words fucking inebriating him, so much so he was surprised he was still standing up straight. He felt physically winded.

He squeezed your hand. “I’ll be right back. Stay down.”

You smiled, loosening your grip, letting your hand fall back into the bed.

Joel walked quietly out of the room but would be the last to admit how he practically sprinted to your kitchen and scoured your cabinets like a man being chased. He found your pain meds, pouring two into his hand, and filling up a small glass of water. He gave a slow, silent jog back to your room.

He felt equally as winded when he caught the view of the setting sun between your windows, glazing over you like a statue in Rome he had once seen on a traveling magazine. The streaks of leftover tears were highlighted in the light, as well as a small crease in your brow.

That is what told him you were not quite yet out cold.

He brought the meds and water to you, tucking your hair behind your ear to alert you of his presence. You opened your eyes and practically inhaled the medicine before laying back down on your side.

Joel removed his shirt in a blink and tucked himself in behind you, ensuring your stitches were not firmly pressed against him, but pressed just enough to ease soreness. You curved into him perfectly, as he did to you. He wrapped his arm around your frame, taking your hands in his and massaging them gently.

You hummed. “Promise you’ll stay?”

He knew your voice like that better than any man in the world.

He pressed a final kiss to your shoulder. “I’m stayin.’”

Tag List: (if you would like to be added please let me know!)

@untitledarea @avengersfan25 @lexloon @daphne-turner @leeeesahhh

[pshcomforts]

➳ only | psh. — requested

idol!sunghoon x fem!reader

“be my only one”

synopsis: you get your period on an unexpected day, and find your boyfriend, park sunghoon, a little more annoying than usual when he comes home early from practice.

warnings/content: written in third pov. slightly angsty but more fluffy fluff! sunghoon’s down bad <3 and reader has a lot of mood swings. reader’s a little mean. not proofread (i’m sorry if it’s bad).

comments, likes, and reposts are appreciated :)

word count: 1.9k

a/n: message request. — this was a little rushed so i’m sorry if it’s not that good </3

༘˚⋆𐙚｡masterlist⋆.✧˚

current song playing: only by leehi

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

1:40 ─────────|────────── -2:19

“are you kidding me?” y/n annoyingly huffed at the sight in front of her.

her stomach furiously grumbled as she sighed and reached for a pad in the cabinet drawer.

“i actually started.., great!” she sarcastically beamed with an eye roll to herself, ignoring the small amount of pads left.

a quick change of undergarments was made in the bathroom, making her feel ever so slightly better about starting her period.

the girl left the bathroom and almost instantly, was hit with a mound of cramps. her hands quickly clenched onto her abdomen, face scrunching in pain while trying to find some sort of pain killer.

swiftly, she downed the pills as if her life depended on it, all while getting a text notification in the process. her head peeked over and found her boyfriend’s messages.

hoonie 🫂:

Hey gorgeous, you there?

Text me back, I’m bored at practice ㅋㅋㅋ

a slight eye roll was taken from y/n, and she was sure she could blame her period for it, but she was annoyed for no reason.

she did feel bad for feeling this way because sunghoon didn’t even do anything wrong but, the girl just started, could you blame her?

she softly grumbled out a sigh, responding to not make him worry.

after sending a message, she shut her phone off, pouting in defeat of the discomfort that took over her body.

“maybe a nap will help..,”

her body laid down on the couch and within seconds, she was out like a light.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

the day was ending soon, and with his busy schedule, sunghoon was still far from coming home (or so she thought).

y/n had awoken from her nap hours ago but in all, it didn’t help.

if anything, it just made her more grouchy than before; and sunghoon would have to deal with that soon.

or much sooner.

the doorknob quickly rustled as if someone was fighting it, confusing the girl on the opposing side before it creaked open to her boyfriend.

“hoonie?? why are you here?” her brows raised to depict her puzzled look, causing a light chuckle to deplete out of him.

“i just missed you, baby.” his low voice murmured out, lips curling into a hot grin.

maybe it was her hormones, but the way he played out that smile had her replay it in her head multiple times.

“didn’t you miss me?” sunghoon croaked out.

and just like that, her love for the boy disappeared.

not entirely, but her hormones pushed her to be more annoyed than gushy.

y/n shook her head, turning away instead of hugging her boyfriend who was longing for it after all day.

hoon gave a faint grin, mind almost catching onto her reasoning.

“come on, y/n, don’t leave me like that.” his hands snaked around her waist, emitting butterflies while she only shook her head.

“not right now, hoon,” she firmly mewled out.

‘so grumpy today,’ he mindlessly said in his own head.

“what’s wrong, baby?” his voice was low, sending shivers down her spine as she simply huffed out a sigh.

“i started my period, hoon. my cramps are hurting me.”

y/n didn’t hear a peep out of the boy until a soft chuckle slipped in through her ears.

“you know..,” sunghoon caught up to her, letting his hands wrap around her waist to pull her in. “i actually left practice early because my stomach was hurting. i think i might be a little sick..”

his grip attempted to tighten around her but she pushed his hands away with a small whine.

“that’s not funny hoon, i’m really in pain here.”

the girl crossed her arms with slightly furrowed brows, indicating that she wasn’t liking any of this teasing mess that she usually liked.

“gorgeous, i swear.. i’m not…,”

she watched her boyfriend clench onto his stomach with a scrunched face.

“hoonie, you better not be messing with me.” she murmured in a displeased look.

sunghoon gave a faint grin at her words. “i’m not, but maybe a little kiss will make me feel better?”

his lips puckered and he slightly leaned in, expecting an easy and simple kiss — only to hear a quiet scoff slip by his girl’s lips.

you know the feeling when you get grossed out by everything and anything when you’re on your period? yeah, y/n got that.

she quickly turnt her head, dodging the kiss.

“y/n.. come on,” sunghoon whined, pouty lips going on display again. “i need a kiss to feel better.”

she groaned out a sigh whilst looking at her handsome boyfriend. he was gorgeous, but the upset feeling still fueled her mood swings.

“don’t make fun of my cramps,” she murmured, walking away to the room with tears filling her eyes.

her emotions were out of the place because she started her period, could you blame her for tearing up?

sunghoon huffed out a sigh as he watched his girlfriend leave the scene before feeling his tummy gurgle again.

he whimpered in slight pain, holding his stomach as he slumped down on the couch.

“i really wanted that kiss,” the male cutely pouted to himself, resting in the living room to give y/n space.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

a few hours after their little spat, the girl escaped from their bedroom and into the bathroom to do a pad change — only to encounter the worst.

no more pads.

a groan escaped from her lips as her head dropped low in defeat.

sunghoon watched her leave the bathroom and walk up to him with her lips formed into a thin line, displaying her awkward smile.

“hoonie?”

“yeah, pretty girl?”

“ineedpads,” she quickly muffled out, causing a chortle to erupt out of him.

“slower, y/n, i barely understood that.” he flashed a wide grin at her, almost making her fold at his attractive feature.

“i.. need pads.”

“are you still mad at me?” hoon lightly teased, fangs shining in his charming smile.

“no… i just need pads..,” her head dropped low in shame as she tried to not let her mood swings get the best of her. “please, sunghoon.”

the boy attempted to bite back his smile at the little plead she let out, but how could he deny his girlfriend?

she was his weakness.

“come on, let’s go.”

he stood up, grasping her hands and leaving the apartment to head to the convenience store.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

arriving upon the store, y/n hurriedly ran to the hygiene section while hoon chuckled in his hidden mask and hovered hoodie, searching for various snacks.

her eyes scanned through each brand, looking for the right one before finding it.

“here it is!” she quietly beamed to herself, walking around to finally search for her boyfriend.

she soon reached the medicine aisle where sunghoon stood, a few heated pads and tasty treats loved by his girl were in his hands while looking for ibuprofen.

her heart melted at the sight. every small thing she found slightly annoying of him because of her period was gone in an instant.

she couldn’t have asked for a better boyfriend.

y/n opened her mouth to call his name but figured she probably shouldn’t with his famous background of being an idol, so she walked over to him instead.

but when she found the bottle of ibuprofen in his hands already, she found herself worried and confused.

‘is he really sick?’ her concerned eyes scanned his hidden face that was still focused on the sight in front of him.

“hey,” she softly poked his forearm. “are you really sick?”

sunghoon turned to his girlfriend who was deemed bothered at his state of health.

“i’m okay, gorgeous, my stomach just kind of hurts.”

he tried to laugh it off but y/n only furrowed her brows. “why didn’t you tell me that your stomach was actually upset?”

the boy huffed out another laugh before giving a soft ruffle at her hair. “it’s okay, you were upset so i didn’t want to bother you even more.”

not letting her respond, his hands grasped onto hers to lead her towards the cashier as she quietly fumed to herself, feeling guilty.

sunghoon thanked the employee before exiting out of the store with his favorite person, finally walking home.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

throughout the entire walk, y/n stayed quiet to herself, replaying how she completely dismissed his pain because of hers.

when they got to their apartment, sunghoon quietly sighed.

“okay, baby, what’s wrong?” he softly asked with the bag still in his hands.

“i’m sorry..,” she quietly peeped, turning around with her head down in shame — gaining a laugh to come from him.

“why are you sorry, y/n? you didn’t do anything.”

he approached the sad girl, lifting her head up with his hands pushing her cheeks to look at him. he found her with tears already streaming down and he couldn’t help but feel a gush of love over his heart.

“i’m sorry i didn’t take your stomach ache seriously, i don’t know why i did that..,”

sunghoon’s inner lips curled at her words. “y/n, it’s okay, you started your period, i understand.”

“shut up sunghoon! it’s not okay! and now i’m crying and i don’t know why i’m crying!” she fumed, letting her tears drop more. “and now you’re in more pain because of me!”

her hands fisted, softly hitting his shoulders out of instinct as he laughed to himself, heart warming at her little guilt.

“y/n,” he called, but she ignored him, not meeting his gaze.

a sigh left his throat as he continued, “gorgeous, can you please look at me?”

hesitantly, the girl raised her head and immediately felt his lips peck hers.

“i’m okay, okay? yes, my stomach hurts but i got medicine for a reason. i’ll be okay,” he pressed another kiss onto her nose temple, hearing her breath hitch as he grinned once more.

y/n softly pouted, pushing him away out of instinct. “i’m still sorry... so.., i’m gonna make you some rice porridge so you can feel better.”

she walked away to the kitchen, wiping her last tears before feeling his hands snake around her waist like earlier.

“you’d make me feel better, you know that?” sunghoon whispered into her ears as his height towered over hers.

“rice porridge would, actually, so sit down and wait until it’s done.”

“but i want cuddles,” he pouted, thumbs rubbing around her stomach area.

“you are sick because you get clingy when you do.”

his head dug further into her shoulders, taking in her scent he loved so much while chuckling.

“you know me so well.”

“i do, now will you please go wait on the couch? i want you to rest.”

she turned to face him, only to find the boy with his usual pouty lips.

“i want you to rest too, you know?”

he beamed an ear-to-ear grin before she playfully rolled her eyes.

“i know, hoonie, but you’re the sick one.”

“but-“

“wait on the couch until the rice porridge is done, and then we can cuddle all you want okay?” she intruded, letting him sigh in defeat.

sunghoon returned himself on the sofa, allowing his girlfriend to take care of him like she wanted.

after a few more fusses, the night eventually ended with the two concluding that hoon had gotten food poisoning.

so after connecting the dots of how, they ended up falling asleep on the furniture in each others arms — both snuggly fit as they were already feeling better in the presence of each other.

✩ ‘my only one’ ✩

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

[aceyalonso]

xi - She's my girl

chapter summary : sienna's parents invite you and oscar's family to have dinner and spend the night at their house, what happens when marietta does something that ruins her friendship with you?

alternative summary : fluff, angst, smut, the holy trinity in one

warnings : y/n is a history nerd, angst, swearing, fighting, drinking (mentioned and implied), slight miscommunication, marietta is a BITCH, smut, dom!oscar hair pulling, fingering, pussy slapping, mirror sex, edging, overstimulation, spanking, bondage (belt), squirting, face sitting, breeding kink lowkey, creampie, oral (both receiving), gagging, praise kink, degradation kink, unprotected sex (use a condom guys!)

word count : 23.3k

a/n : only 1 more chapter till this series ends :( | I AM SHOCKED WITH THE SMUT LIKE NO WAY I WROTE THIS BRO WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS SO FREAKY IM SCARING MYSELF

song : can't help falling in love - elvis presley

Wednesday, 9:10 AM

The next morning, both Y/n and Oscar's family gather at the breakfast table in the house. The room is filled with the scent of eggs, bacon, and coffee, and the atmosphere is a mix of cheerfulness and familiarity.

Y/n sits at the table, a plate of food in front of her, her hair slightly messy from sleep. Across her, sits Oscar, his plate also loaded with food as he engages in the conversation around him.

The family members are chatting amongst themselves, discussing plans for the day ahead. Y/n is chiming in occasionally, her eyes darting to Oscar every now and then, a private smile playing on her lips as she secretly remembers the events of the previous night.

Oscar, for his part, seems his usual charming self, engaging with the others in conversation while occasionally throwing a discreet peek in Y/n's direction.

As the family is chatting, Y/n's mom mentions that she ran into Sienna and Marietta's mom at the supermarket the day before. She explained that they had started talking and chatting, so she had gotten home a bit later than expected.

Y/n's mom then says, "Oh, and get this! While we were chatting, they invited us over for dinner. ALL of us. How nice of them, right?" Y/n's mom finishes, her voice filled with her usual cheerful energy as she relays the invitation.

Y/n looks up from her plate, a slice of bacon halfway to her mouth. She hesitates for a moment, a small frown creasing her forehead as she processes the information. Then she asks, her voice tinged with slight apprehension. "When is this dinner party happening?"

Her mother beams at Y/n's question, her cheerful disposition unperturbed. She takes a bite of toast before responding, "Oh, it's on Saturday. Your father will be back from the countryside on Friday, so it works out well." her voice filled with her usual enthusiasm

Y/n looks at her mom, a puzzled expression on her face. She sets the slice of bacon down on her plate and asks her mom a question. "Why is dad in the countryside anyway? Is there some sort of work he's doing there?"

Y/n's mom reaches for her coffee mug, taking a small sip before explaining. "Ah, the vineyard. Your Tia Lidia asked him to take care of the vineyard for a few days while she goes on a trip- I'm not quite sure if it's a business trip or not but either way, your father is there." Her voice is nonchalant, as if the the reason is obvious.

Y/n nods in understanding, her memory being jogged by her mother's words. She says, her voice a bit sheepish, "Right, the vineyard. I forgot about that. It's been a while since we've been there."

May, who had been listening in on the conversation, suddenly chimes in. She turns to Y/n and her mom, her voice a tad bit anxious. "What's the dress code? I only packed summer clothes..."

Y/n's mom chuckles at May's question, her laughter light and reassuring. She says, "Don't worry, casual is fine. We don't need to be too dressy. But if you don't have anything suitable, you and Y/n can always go shopping and find something nice to wear. How does that sound?" her voice warm and understanding

Y/n nods in agreement, appreciating her mother's suggestion. "That sounds good. A little shopping spree could be fun," she adds, her voice lighter now that the wardrobe issue is sorted out.

After breakfast, Y/n heads up to Oscar's room, the events of last night and the anticipation of seeing him again add a slight skip in her step.

Once she reaches his room, she goes inside and closes the door behind her, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. She waits patiently, excitement thrumming through her veins as she eagerly awaits his arrival.

Oscar soon walks into his room, expecting to find it empty, only to be jumpscare when he sees Y/n patiently waiting on his bed. He lets out a small involuntary gasp, surprised by her presence there. But the surprise quickly melts into a warm smile as he crosses the room to where she is sitting.

He approaches her, his eyes lingering on her face for a moment before he speaks. There's a mix of curiosity and affection in his voice as he questions her presence there.

"I wasn't expecting to find you here," he says, his voice affectionate and quiet. "What brings you to my room, all alone and patiently waiting for me, hm?"

Y/n looks up at him, a cheeky smile on her lips as she responds. "Just wanted to spend some alone time with you, is that a crime?" She pats the spot next to her, silently inviting him to join her on the bed. "Come here, sit with me."

Oscar chuckles, his eyes sparkling with affectionate mischief. He settles down beside her, his body pressed against hers as he responds to her cheeky comment.

"True, wanting to spend with me isn't a crime, but entering my room unannounced could be considered trespassing. I might have to call the police," he teases, a playful sparkle in his eyes.

Y/n grins as she pulls Oscar towards her, her movements quick and sure. They both fall back onto the bed, their bodies now lying side by side, separated only by a sheet of air. Y/n's heart is pounding, and her breath hitches as the closeness between them electrifies the room.

Y/n giggles as they lay there, the memories of her childhood room flooding back. She nuzzles closer to him, her voice light and playful as she points out, "By the way, you know what? This room used to be mine. So technically, I'm not really trespassing. I'm just revisiting my old territory."

Oscar laughs loudly at her statement, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he teases her, drawing from the iconic werewolf characters from the Twilight series.

"You sound like a werewolf from Twilight right now! Your old territory, huh? I can practically hear the howling and the transformation music in the background." He grins, enjoying the banter between them.

Y/n playfully smacks his arm, feigning mock offense at his comparison. Her voice is filled with exaggerated indignity as she responds. "Hey! Don't compare me to those sparkly vampires and werewolves! I'm a normal human, thank you very much. No transforming during the full moon for me."

They both laugh again, their shared humor creating a lighthearted atmosphere. Oscar then grins at her, his eyes sparkling with affection as he responds.

"Alright, alright, no more werewolf comments. My apologies. I guess you're just a normal human with a hint of possessive territory instincts, right?"

Y/n nods in playful agreement to Oscar's comment about her possessing territory instincts. She then moves a bit, adjusting her position to get more comfortable. She turns slightly, snuggling up against him, her head resting on his shoulder, her leg lazily thrown over his.

Y/n suddenly remembers the mention of the shopping spree. She lifts her head from Oscar's shoulder, looking up at him.

"Hey, you heard my mom talking about the shopping trip, right? Do you think we can find anything decent to wear for the dinner party there?"

Oscar nods thoughtfully, his mind already working on possibilities. "Yeah, I heard her mention it. And yeah, I bet we can find something decent to wear there. The city has plenty of stores to explore. We'll definitely find something suitable."

Y/n winces slightly as she shifts her weight, her shoulder getting sore. She looks at Oscar apologetically. "Hey, can we switch positions again? My shoulder's starting to hurt from this angle."

Oscar immediately nods, his tone concerned as he notices her wincing. "Sure, of course. Let's change positions. You don't want to end up with a sore shoulder, right?" He moves carefully, shifting his body so that she can adjust her position, accommodating her needs.

Y/n smiles gratefully, appreciating his consideration. She readjusts herself, now lying on her back as her legs intertwined with his. She lets out a sigh of relief, the pain in her shoulder subsiding now that she's more comfortable.

Y/n suddenly switches gears, starting a totally random conversation. She glances at Oscar, her tone suddenly casual and lighthearted.

"Hey, speaking of shopping, do you ever get sick of wearing clothes? I mean, sometimes I just wish I could be naked all the time. It's so freeing, you know?"

Y/n suddenly switches gears, starting a totally random conversation. She glances at Oscar, her tone suddenly casual and lighthearted. "Hey, speaking of shopping, do you ever get sick of wearing clothes? I mean, sometimes I just wish I could be naked all the time. It's so freeing, you know?"

Oscar looks at her, a smirk playing on his lips, as he playfully responds. "Are you secretly a nudist or something? Wanting to be naked all the time sounds a bit… risqué, don't you think?"

Y/n laughs, shaking her head in denial. She replies, her voice light and carefree. "No, I'm not a nudist, I swear. I was just kidding. Though I do love the feeling of being in nothing but a silky robe, with the fabric gliding over my skin, feeling the coolness of the air against my body."

Oscar's fingers find their way into Y/n's hair, gently running through the silky strands as he responds, his voice low and slightly huskier than before. "A sight I'd love to see, you in only a silky robe, the fabric hugging your curves, and nothing between your body and the cool air? That sounds… intriguing, to say the least."

Y/n laughingly slaps his arm, feigning annoyance at his thoughts taking an amorous turn. Her voice is a mix of playful sternness and lightheartedness. "Hey, focus! We're having a philosophical moment here, in case you forgot. Don't ruin it with your dirty thoughts."

Oscar chuckles, defending himself, his voice filled with mock innocence. He points out. "Hey, you were the one who brought up the topic of nudity first. I was just trying to follow the conversation, you know."

Y/n rolls her eyes, a small smile on her face, before playfully replying. "Okay, fine, I'll take some responsibility for bringing up the subject. But you didn't have to immediately go there, you know. We could've had a purely intellectual conversation about clothing-optional lifestyles."

Y/n suddenly brings up a historical fact, her curiosity about the Romans sparking a new topic. "Hey, did you know that the Romans were surprisingly open about nudity? They even had public bathhouses where people would just casually walk around naked as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But there were exceptions, though."

Y/n suddenly begins ranting about the Roman Empire, her passion for history shining through as she starts listing facts. "The Roman Empire was so ahead of its time, you know? They had an amazing road system and an advanced drainage system, and they practically invented the calendar we still use. Plus, their architecture was breathtaking. Buildings like the Colosseum and the Pantheon are still standing, over two thousand years later!"

Oscar listens intently to her passionate rant, occasionally interjecting with a question or making a comment to keep the conversation going. He's amazed by her fervor, her enthusiasm contagious as she speaks about the Romans. "So, they had all these incredible inventions and architecture, but what about their society? What was daily life like for an ordinary citizen?"

Y/n stops her tirade briefly to ponder Oscar's question, before launching into a thorough explanation. "Well, for your average Roman citizen, life would've been a mix of work, religion, and entertainment. Most people would have been involved in manual labor, agriculture, or trades. The Roman Empire was a huge society, with a complex social hierarchy. At the top were the rich and powerful, while the lower classes would've led more austere, hardworking lives."

As Y/n continues her passionate explanation about the Romans, she's suddenly interrupted by the unexpected kiss from Oscar. She looks at him, surprised for a moment, a smile slowly forming on her face as she realizes his gesture.

"Hey, I was talking, you know?" She says, a mixture of mock annoyance and amusement in her voice.

Instead of continuing her historical rants, Y/n now finds herself slightly distracted by the kiss. She can't help but be amused by Oscar's interruption, but she soon finds herself returning the kiss, losing herself in the moment.

Y/n breaks the kiss, her mind quickly snapping back into historical mode. Despite the distraction, her passion for the Roman Empire remains unbroken

"Right. Sorry, I got sidetracked for a moment. So, as I was saying, the Romans had this really interesting system of government…."

Oscar laughs loudly, his amusement growing by the second as he watches Y/n seamlessly switch from a passionate kiss back to historical facts. He grins, finding her enthusiasm endearing and endearing and adorable.

"You know, most people would get distracted and forget what they were saying after a kiss like that. But not you. You're back to talking about the Romans like nothing happened."

Y/n grins, defending her dedication to history, her voice filled with nostalgic joy.

"Of course, I didn't have a Percy Jackson-themed sweet 16 party for nothing. That event was the pinnacle of my teenage obsession with ancient civilizations. I mean, who needs a typical birthday party when you can have a full-blown historical tribute?"

Oscar's laughter continues, his face now buried in Y/n's chest as he playfully calls her a nerd. His voice is slightly muffled. "You're such a nerd, you know that? Most people would just get some typical birthday party for their sweet sixteen, with cake and balloons and stuff. But you had to go all out with a Percy Jackson theme. Only a true history enthusiast would do that."

Y/n grins, accepting the title of nerd with a hint of pride, and continuing her historical dialogue. "But yes, thank you, I am a nerd, as you've pointed out. Anyway, let's continue our discussion from where we left off. The Roman Empire, and its surprisingly casual approach to nudity…"

Thursday, 10:31 AM

Oscar, Y/n, and May are now browsing through the racks of dresses in the store. As they move through the aisles, Oscar has already collected a few shopping bags, holding onto them with practiced ease. He seems to be adapting to the shopping task quite well, his earlier reluctance replaced by mild curiosity.

Y/n turns to Oscar, holding a couple of dresses in her arms, and announces her plan to head to the changing room. "I'm going to the changing room to try on these dresses. Mind waiting here for a bit?" She says, a smile on her face.

Y/n looks at Oscar, a playful glimmer in her eye as she suggests something. "Do you want to come with me and wait outside the door? That way, you can give me your honest opinions on the dresses as I change."

Oscar looks at her for a moment, considering her suggestion, before nodding. He grins, clearly up for the task. "Sure, why not? I'll keep watch outside the door and offer my fashion critique as needed."

Y/n grins back, happy that he agreed to her request. She leads the way towards the changing rooms, finding an empty one. She turns back to Oscar before going inside. "Alright, give me a moment. I'll come out and show you the dresses one by one, okay?"

Y/n emerges from the changing room with the first dress on, a smile of excitement on her face. She twirls slightly for Oscar, giving him a full view of the red dress. It complements her figure well, hugging her curves in all the right places.

"Well? What do you think of this one?" she asks, her voice displaying a slight sense of discomfort.

Oscar looks at her, his gaze taking in the bright red dress. He scans her from head to toe, his gaze appreciative and slightly playful. He grins as she twirls, appreciating the way the dress hugs her curves. "Red looks good on you. It really emphasizes your figure. You look… stunning."

Y/n smiles at Oscar's complement, but then adds a note of skepticism as she assesses the comfort of the dress. "Thanks, I appreciate the compliment. But comfort-wise, it's not exactly the most comfortable dress. The fabric is a bit too stiff, and it doesn't really breathe well." she complains, fidgeting with the straps of the dress.

Y/n disappears back into the changing room, leaving Oscar waiting outside. After a few moments, she steps out in a different dress. This one is a flowing, light blue sundress, with spaghetti straps and a gathered bodice. It hugs her curves loosely, accentuating her figure in a more subtle and breezy manner.

She twirls once again, giving Oscar a glimpse of the second dress. The soft blue fabric floats around her, moving gracefully with her movements. She looks at him, gauging his reaction. "Here is the next one. What do you think of this one?"

Oscar's eyes widen slightly as he sees Y/n in the second dress. The light blue fabric of the sundress complements her figure nicely, and the loose, flowing style seems far more comfortable than the red dress. He smiles, his gaze appreciative, his voice a bit softer than before.

"That one looks great, really great. It's much more comfortable and breezy, isn't it? The color suits you, too. You look really lovely."

Y/n giggles slightly at his comment, pointing out a concern she has about the dress. She gestures towards the spaghetti straps, her tone lighthearted but slightly wary.

"Yeah, I really like the style of this one, but there's one issue. The straps are pretty thin. I mean, what if one of them breaks and a wardrobe malfunction happens? I don't want to flash a titty at the dinner party, you know?"

Oscar bursts into laughter, unable to contain himself as Y/n points out her concern about the spaghetti straps. His laughter is loud and uncontrollable, drawing the attention of a few people nearby.

Y/n shushes him, a mix of embarrassment and amusement on her face. "Shh, quiet. People are staring. You're going to get us kicked out."

Oscar tries to control his laughter, but his body still shakes from suppressed chuckles. He takes a moment to compose himself before responding."Sorry, sorry… just the imagined scenario of you accidentally flashing us in that dress was too much for me."

Y/n rolls her eyes at Oscar's comment, but can't help but find his reaction amusing. She retreats back into the changing room to change into the last dress she has. After a few moments, she emerges for the third time, this time dressed in a beautiful champagne white knee-length dress.

The A-line dress shows just a hint of cleavage to catch Oscar's attention, making her look elegant and sophisticated. The bodice is cinched at the waist, and the fabric falls gracefully to a slight flare at the knee. Y/n steps out, twirling slightly for Oscar, gauging his reaction to the final dress.

Oscar's eyes widen as he sees Y/n in the last dress. The champagne-white fabric shimmers slightly in the lighting, and the cinched waist accentuates her figure beautifully. The hint of cleavage draws his gaze, making it difficult for him to look away. "Damn, that dress looks amazing. It fits you perfectly. You look… gorgeous."

Y/n smiles, satisfied with Oscar's compliment, and looks down to admire the dress herself. Her tone is filled with genuine praise for the third dress. "Yeah, I really like this one. It's classy but not overly formal, and it's actually more comfortable than the other two. Plus, the champagne white color looks really nice on me, right?"

Oscar nods in agreement, his gaze slowly trailing over her figure, appreciating how the dress hugs her curves. He grins, his voice slightly thick with desire, a hint of huskiness in his tone. "Yeah, you look incredible. Seriously. You could wear this to any fancy event and turn heads for sure. I can't take my eyes off of you right now."

Y/n grins at Oscar's compliment, her heart fluttering just a bit before she disappears back into the changing room. After a few minutes, she emerges in her regular clothes once again. She steps out, carrying all three dresses in her arms.

Oscar, who has been waiting outside, looks at her as she re-emerges in her regular clothes, holding the dresses in her arms. He raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his face. "So, have you made a decision? Which one are you picking?"

Y/n looks at the three dresses, her hand running over the fabric of each one. She contemplates for a moment before turning to Oscar, a smile on her face. "I think I'm going to go with the white dress. It's the most comfortable and it looks good, too. It'll be perfect for the dinner party."

Oscar's smirk transforms into a small smile as he hears her decision. He nods approvingly, his tone slightly teasing. "White dress it is, then. Good choice. You'll definitely turn heads at the dinner party. Just make sure no wardrobe malfunctions happen."

Y/n smiles at Oscar's teasing, rolling her eyes slightly. "Oh, don't worry, I'll make sure these straps hold my girls in place. No wardrobe malfunctions allowed."

Oscar grins, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Just make sure whatever you've got is strong enough. You don't want any accidents happening mid-conversation, or I might be the one to blame for distracting you and causing the malfunction."

Y/n laughs, shaking her head at him. "Oh, trust me, I have it under control. I don't need you causing any distractions. Besides, if any distractions happen, it'll be more your fault than mine."

They both laugh heartily as Y/n returns the dresses to their respective racks. They make their way towards the cashier, the energy between them light and playful after the eventful dress-shopping experience.

The dresses are put back, and Y/n turns to Oscar with a smile and a tease. "So, how about next time we go shopping, I bring you along for a change? I'll need a second opinion on what looks good on me, after all."

Oscar nods with a humorous smile, accepting the idea of accompanying Y/n on her future shopping trips. "Sure, that sounds good to me. I'm more than happy to give you my fashion advice."

Suddenly, May appears from behind them, her presence causing them to jump slightly in surprise. She grins, noticing their reaction to her sudden appearance, clearly enjoying the fact that she startled them. She chimes in, her usual cheerful tone filling the air."Hey guys! Done with the dress shopping?"

Y/n and Oscar both chuckle lightly, a bit taken aback by May's sudden appearance. Oscar replies with a smile, his heart rate slowly returning to normal."Yeah, we just finished. Y/n picked out a dress for the dinner party. You should see it, it's really nice."

May smiles wider, clearly interested in the details. "Oh, really? Can't wait to see it. Y/n, you always pick out the best outfits. I'm sure this one will look amazing too."

Y/n grins and nods, her excitement for the dress clear in her expression. "Thanks, May. I really like this one. It's comfortable and looks really nice, or at least Oscar seems to think so."

May pretends to gag, an exaggerated look of disgust on her face, clearly jesting them. "Oh, please. You guys don't need to rub your couple stuff in my face. Not all of us are lucky enough to find our perfect match like you two lovebirds."

They laugh at May's fake gagging, amused by her over-the-top reaction. Then, it's their turn to pay for the dress. Y/n steps up to the cashier, pulling out her wallet to pay.

Oscar swoops in as the transaction finishes, grabbing the bag with the dress before Y/n can even protest. He grins, holding the bag, knowing she's going to argue.

Y/n raises an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and mock annoyance on her face as Oscar snatches the bag from her grasp. "Hey, what are you doing? I can carry that, you know."

Oscar grins wider, "Oh, I know you can carry it. But I thought I'd be a gentleman and carry it for you. Consider it my little act of chivalry." his voice laced with playful stubbornness.

May eavesdrops on their playful argument, a mischievous smile on her face. Seeing an opportunity, she chimes in, holding out her heavy shopping bag with a tone of challenge. "Ooh, since Oscar's so keen on carrying things, how about you carry my shopping bag, too?"

Oscar turns to May, his expression turning to one of slightly annoyed realization. He responds with a hint of playfulness still present in his voice. "Hey, now. I never said I was a carrying service for everyone. I was talking about carrying Y/n's bag because, you know, I'm her boyfriend. Your shopping bag is where I draw the line, sorry."

May laughs, finding enjoyment in teasing them both. She holds up her shopping bag with feigned innocence, her grin widening. "Aww, come on, Osc. You won't deny a poor, defenseless girl the chance to have her bag carried? What if it's too heavy for my fragile wrists?"

Oscar rolls his eyes, once again realizing that May is enjoying pushing his buttons. He responds with a mixture of mock reluctance and amusement. "Defenseless, really? Do you think I buy that act? And your wrists are as strong as an ox, don't try to play the weak card on me."

Y/n chimes in, her tone filled with playful scolding as she joins in on the banter. "Oz, just carry her bag. It's not that big of a deal, and you're being stubborn about it. Come on, be a good sport."

May jumps in with an encouraging tone, fully agreeing with Y/n. "Yeah, Oscar. Be a good sport and carry my bag for me, won't you? It's not like it weighs a ton."

Oscar lets out an exaggerated sigh, knowing he's outnumbered by the two of them ganging up on him.

He groans dramatically before giving in, playing along."Fine, fine. I'll carry your bag, May. But only because Y/n and you are both ganging up on me. No more favors after this, got it?"

may.piastri • Just Now Garfunkel and Oates • You, Me and Steve

caption : i'm steve

Saturday, 5:49 PM

The car pulls up in front of the De Cresenzo household, parked along the gravelly driveway with a mix of other vehicles belonging to the De Cresenzo family. The evening is drawing near, the sky tinged with hues of orange and pink as the sun begins to set.

Y/n steps out of the car, adjusting her hair and smoothing out her dress. She takes a deep breath, a mix of excitement and nervousness in her chest. She turns to Oscar, who has gotten out of the car as well and gives him a brief, reassuring smile.

Y/n's mother, along with Oscar's mother, approaches the front door of the house, their arms linked together in an amiable manner. Y/n's mother reaches out and gently raps her knuckles against the heavy wooden door, creating a soft, rhythmic sound. The rest of the family members trail behind them, waiting for the door to open with a mix of anticipation and curiosity.

Sienna grins as she opens the door, her warm and pleasant demeanor greeting Y/n's mother and Oscar's mother. "Hey, come on in. Sorry my mom is running a bit late, she's still getting ready upstairs but should be down in a minute. Please, make yourselves comfortable."

As the family members trickle in, Oscar and Y/n enter last, with Oscar offering a simple "Hi" and Y/n embracing Sienna in a quick hug. There's a sense of ease and familiarity between the two friends, a hint of comfort amongst the slightly formal atmosphere.

Sienna grins at Y/n, her tone affectionate and welcoming as they part from their hug."Hey, Y/n! You look great in that dress. I'm really glad you could make it." She then glances over at Oscar, her smile widening. "And hi, Oscar. You look quite sharp yourself."

Oscar gives Sienna a friendly smile, his eyes drifting down to her outfit for a brief moment. "Thanks, I appreciate it. You look really nice yourself. This is quite the event." He turns to Y/n, holding her hand as he subtly pulls her closer to him.

Y/n, standing beside Oscar, feels the warmth of his hand, his subtle gesture drawing her closer to him. She looks up at him for a moment, their proximity creating a subtle sense of intimacy as he pulls her a fraction closer. Y/n's mother, like Oscar's mother, notices the gesture but doesn't comment on it, knowing that it's a natural, romantic act between a couple.

Sienna grins mischievously and suddenly grabs Y/n's hand, pulling her gently towards the living room. Oscar chuckles at the action, following closely behind the two girls. The sound of chatter and laughter emanating from the living room can be heard as they approach.

As they enter the living room, Y/n's eyes widen in pleasant surprise. She hadn't expected to see Arthur, Sienna and Marietta's cousin, and her old neighbor from back in Monaco. A mix of nostalgia and excitement wash over her. "Arthur! I didn't know you were here?"

Arthur glances up from his conversation with his older brother Charles and spots Y/n in the doorway. A smile spreads across his face, his familiar features lighting up with recognition. "Y/n, is that you? It's been ages! I didn't know you were coming tonight."

Arthur's smile widens, and he immediately envelops Y/n in a warm hug, expressing his own surprise at seeing her. As he releases Y/n, his gaze shifts to Oscar who is standing just behind her. A brief flicker of confusion passes over his expression before a friendly smile once again forms on his face, though it's tinged with a hint of curiosity.

Arthur's recognition of Oscar is clear, and the memories of their online and offline interactions come back to him. As the boys hug each other, the surprise on both their faces is evident. They part from the embrace, a mixture of friendly acknowledgment and curiosity in their gazes.

Oscar grins at Arthur, genuinely pleased to see him. He pats Arthur's back in a warm, familiar gesture. "Arthur, man, it's been a while! I didn't know you'd be here tonight too."

Arthur grins back at Oscar, his expression mirroring the sentiment. "Yeah, it has, hasn't it? I was just as surprised to see you here. Small world, isn't it?"

Sienna and Y/n watch the exchange between Oscar and Arthur with a slight sense of confusion, wondering about the history between the two boys. Sienna glances at Y/n curiously, silently questioning if she knew about this friendship.

Y/n looks at Sienna, noticing her look of confusion and curiosity. She gives a slight shrug, silently indicating to Sienna that she didn't know about the extent of Oscar's friendship with Arthur either. For the moment, she chooses to stay silent, letting the boys chat amongst themselves.

Sienna, intrigued by the conversation between the boys and curious about their connection, decides to speak up. "Hey, Arthur, how do you know Oscar? You guys seem to know each other really well."

Arthur turns towards Sienna, his friendly smile still present as he answers her question. "Oh, me and Oscar? We actually met online through a gaming forum. We bonded over our shared interests and eventually ended up meeting in real life. We've been friends ever since."

Sienna and Y/n both let out an "ohh" in unison, their question now answered. It seems that the connection between Oscar and Arthur stemmed from an unlikely source — online gaming.

Y/n glances over at Oscar, intrigued by this revelation. She hadn't known that he and Arthur had met through online gaming. Although surprised, she finds it endearing that a common interest has forged a friendship between the two.

Oscar chuckles lightly, echoing the sentiment that Arthur had earlier shared. He affirms the coincidence and adds, his tone playful, "What a small world. Who would've thought we'd end up all being here tonight."

Marietta and her mother make their way down the stairs, and a call from inside the dining room alerts Sienna, Arthur, Oscar, and Y/n that dinner is ready. The four of them instinctively turn towards the sound, ready to head into the dining room for the meal.

The dinner progresses with a pleasant atmosphere. Smiles, laughter, and conversations fill the table as everyone enjoys their meal and each other's company. Y/n's parents, Oscar's parents, Arthur's parents, and Sienna's parents all interact with one another, finding common ground and exchanging anecdotes. Y/n, Oscar, Sienna, Arthur, and Marietta all engage in lighthearted banter and catch up on each other's lives.

As the conversation ebbs and flows, Marietta leans in close and whispers in Oscar's ear, "You know, Oscar, you're looking particularly handsome tonight."

Oscar, visibly uncomfortable under Marietta's advances, tenses up slightly at her comment. He gives her an awkward laugh, his gaze darting around the table, hoping for someone to intervene or change the subject.

Arthur, sensing Oscar's discomfort, decides to interject and shift the focus away from Marietta's relentless advances.

His relief is almost palpable, grateful for the distraction Arthur has provided. He turns towards Arthur, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

"Oh, me and Y/n? We met when they went to Melbourne, our mothers ran into each other by chance." Oscar replies, taking a sip of wine.

Arthur nods, intrigued by their story. He glances over at Y/n with a small smile, then back at Oscar. "Ah, Melbourne, huh? That's an interesting place. How long were you there for?" He says, turning the question to Y/n.

Y/n chimes in, continuing the story, their voice light and cheerful. "We were there for just a month, but it's funny how our families managed to cross paths near the end of my stay. Melbourne's a huge city, after all."

Arthur raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the coincidence. He chuckles lightly, commenting, "That's some pretty good luck to have your families run into each other right before you left. Must have made for a memorable end to the trip."

Y/n laughs softly, confirming Arthur's observation. "It sure did. It was a bit of a whirlwind, but definitely made for a memorable ending. And it was the start of me and May's friendship too."

The conversation around the dining table continues as the dinner carries on. People laugh, talk, and enjoy their food, although it's clear that Marietta is still keeping a keen eye on Oscar, the atmosphere a mix of enjoyment and subtle unease. Y/n and Oscar both try to engage in the conversation, avoiding Marietta's advances while occasionally exchanging furtive glances and smiles.

After the dinner concludes, the older adults continue chatting while the younger ones gather in the living room. The atmosphere is a bit stifling with Marietta’s constant presence but overall the group settles in as best they can.

Y/n and Oscar are sitting on the couch, close together with Oscar’s arm wrapped around Y/n in a protective and affectionate gesture. There is a slight tension in the air as Marietta keeps glancing towards them, clearly envious of their closeness.

Oscar sits next to Y/n on the couch, subtly watching her as she scrolls through her phone. His gaze occasionally flicks over to Marietta, who is sitting in an armchair across from them, her eyes fixed on Oscar in a mixture of jealousy and desire.

Y/n, blissfully unaware of Marietta's gazes, continues to scroll through her phone, tapping and swiping through different apps. Every now and then, she leans into Oscar slightly, feeling safe and comfortable in his presence.

Oscar, feeling a little uneasy with Marietta's intense stares, finds himself becoming more protective of Y/n, his arm instinctively pulling her a bit closer. He tries to refocus on Y/n, watching her phone screen and silently enjoying their proximity.

Y/n, feeling a subtle sense of unease, glances up from her phone screen and notices Marietta's relentless staring. She discreetly opens up her notes app, pretending to type something important, though her attention is more focused on Marietta's gaze towards Oscar and herself.

Oscar notices what Y/n is writing on her notes app and leans closer to her, gently kissing her temple. He whispers in her ear, his voice tinged with a hint of irritation, "Yeah, Marietta's been staring at us for a while now. She's not being exactly subtle about it."

Y/n notices Oscar's subtle irritation and responds by pouting slightly. She then exits the notes app and shifts her attention towards Gabriel, who is resting his head on her lap. She begins playing with his hair, running her fingers through it and stroking it gently. It seems like a subconscious act, a way to relax and ignore Marietta's persistent stares.

Arthur, spotting the opportunity to lighten the mood, suddenly picks up the 7-year-old boy from Y/n's lap. He swings him over his shoulder, the boy's giggles filling the air as he rides on Arthur's shoulders like a superhero. The unexpected display of playfulness breaks the tension and brings a genuine laugh from some of the group, including Y/n, while Marietta looks a bit annoyed at the distraction.

Y/n, seeing the innocent joy on Gabriel's face and Arthur's playful antics, couldn't resist capturing the moment on video. With a smile, she took out her phone and started filming, capturing the sight of Gabriel on top of Arthur's shoulders, both of them laughing and goofing around.

Y/n continued to film the two of them, her phone recording the sweet moment as Arthur continued to act like a superhero and Gabriel continued to laugh and cheer. Their innocent fun contrasted Marietta’s intense stares, creating a stark difference between the carefree spirit of childhood and the adult tension in the room.

Sienna suddenly interjects, her voice excited and light, "Hey Arthur, put Gabriel down and play just dance with me!"

Arthur laughs, setting the young boy down and turning to Sienna. "You're on!"

Sienna and Arthur both stand up, ready to engage in a dance battle. They both look at each other with determination and excitement, the others watching with curiosity and amusement.

Sienna selects a song on the game console, choosing a fast-paced tune. The music starts playing, filling the room with upbeat beats. Sienna and Arthur both begin to dance to the rhythm, their moves a mix of awkward and silly but filled with enthusiasm.

Oscar's laughter rings out loudly in the room, the sound infectious and genuine. His hand remains firmly on Y/n's waist as he watches Sienna and Arthur dance, clearly enjoying the show. Despite the lingering presence of Marietta's stares, Oscar's good mood seems unaffected by it.

Y/n feels Oscar's hand, playfully fiddling with the zipper of her dress. "Stop it," she warns.

"Why should I?" Oscar asks, his eyebrows raised out curiosity.

Y/n's cheeks flush slightly as she speaks, a mixture of embarrassment and flirtation in her voice. "Cause I'll end up flashing the entire room," she murmurs, glancing around to ensure no one else can hear them. "I don't have a bra under this dress.

Her reply shocks Oscar, her words cutting through the teasing banter and bringing him back to reality. His eyes widened slightly at her admission, and the realization of what could happen if he were to go any further suddenly dawned on him.

With a mixture of surprise and slight embarrassment, Oscar quickly removes his hand from her back and lets out a soft chuckle. "Oh… well, maybe I better keep my hands to myself then." He glances around the room, ensuring no one else overhears their conversation.

Y/n can't help but smirk at Oscar's reaction, clearly enjoying the effect her words had on him. They both know the risk of his hands exploring further, and the knowledge of her lack of undergarments adds an extra level of intimacy to the moment.

Despite the lighthearted banter between them, there is an undercurrent of tension, an unspoken understanding that they are on the edge of crossing a line in front of the others. But for now, the tease is enough, and they both continue to watch Sienna and Arthur's playful dance routine, each aware of the other's presence in a way that the rest of the room is blissfully oblivious to.

Oscar, sensing the need for a moment of respite, stands up from the couch. He gives Y/n a small smile before excusing himself, claiming that he needs to use the restroom. With a casual stride, he leaves the living room and heads down the hallway towards the bathroom.

With Oscar gone, Y/n decides to join in the fun with Arthur and Sienna. She stands up from the couch and moves over to them, eager to participate in the game.

Arthur and Sienna welcome Y/n to their just dance session, and soon the three of them are engrossed in the game, moving to the rhythm of the music, laughing, and trying to outdo each other with their dance moves.

With the three engaging in their game of Just Dance, Marietta manages to slip out of the living room, swiftly going the same way Oscar went.

As Oscar exits the bathroom, his hands still wet from the water, he shakes his hands, accidentally flicking droplets of water onto Marietta who had suddenly showed up.

"What the-" Marietta says, startled by the drops of water landing on her dress and face.

Marietta, regaining her composure, looks up at Oscar and says, "I need to talk to you. Can we go somewhere private?" Her voice is firm and urgent, her eyes locking onto his with a purpose and intensity.

Oscar is taken aback by Marietta's sudden appearance and her insistence on a private conversation. He hesitates for a moment, wondering what she could possibly want to discuss with him, but eventually nods and gestures towards a closed door nearby that leads to a small study room.

They both enter the study room, Oscar closing the door behind them. The room is small and dark, only illuminated by soft lamplight. The sound of laughter and music from the living room can be heard faintly in the background, which contrasts with the sudden seriousness of the atmosphere in the study room.

Marietta, now alone with Oscar in the small study room, takes a deep breath and gathers her thoughts, her gaze fixed on his face.

"I wanted to talk to you because… because I need to get something off my chest," she begins, her voice softer now but still carrying a hint of determination.

Marietta swallows hard, steeling herself before continuing. "I've been watching you… with Y/n. I've seen how close you two are, how close she is with your family, and it's been… eating away at me."

She looks up at him, her eyes searching his face for a reaction, any sign that he may somehow reciprocate her feelings.

Marietta continues, her voice growing slightly strained as she pours out her feelings. "I've tried to ignore it, to push it down, but I can't anymore. The way you look at her, the way you touch her… it's like she's everything to you."

She pauses, tears welling up in her eyes. "Do you… do you feel anything for me, Oscar? Anything at all?"

Oscar listens to Marietta's confession with a mixture of surprise and sadness. He knows that he can't return her feelings, not when he's completely in love with Y/n. Still, he doesn't want to hurt her, and he chooses his words carefully, trying to be gentle yet firm in his rejection.

"Marietta," he begins, his voice filled with empathy, "I'm flattered that you have feelings for me, but… I can't reciprocate them. Y/n and I are together, and she means the world to me. I care about you as a friend, but that's all it can be."

Marietta's anger rises upon hearing Oscar's rejection, her frustration and jealousy bubbling to the surface.

"What do you mean 'that's all it can be'?" she shoots back, her voice laced with bitterness. "I can be so much more for you, Oscar. I can make you happier, I can make you feel loved in ways she never could."

The words hang heavy in the air between them, the truth in their implication hanging over the room. But no matter how much Marietta protests, no matter what she says, Oscar can't bring himself to see her in that way. His heart, his entire being, belongs to Y/n, and no amount of persuasion or pleading can change that.

Marietta, fueled by her anger and desperation, continues to plead with Oscar, her voice growing louder with each passing moment. "I can be whatever you want me to be, Oscar. I can be your partner, your confidant, your everything. You don't need her; you need me. Don't you see that?"

Just as Oscar opens his mouth to respond, the door to the study room suddenly swings open. Y/n stands in the doorway, surprise and confusion etched on her face as she sees the tense scene before her.

Y/n, lost in the music and enjoying herself with Arthur and Sienna, continues to dance with them, laughing and having a great time. The dance game goes on, the rhythm of the music filling the room and creating a fun and carefree atmosphere.

Arthur, Sienna, and Y/n continue to dance, the competitive spirit between them fueling their movements. They all laugh and cheer each other on as they try to out-perform one another, creating a lively and entertaining sight for anyone watching.

The Just Dance session continues, the three of them getting into the music and dancing with all their energy. The room is filled with laughter, with the occasional cry of "I did it better!" or a cheer from someone who nailed a particularly complicated move. It's a moment of pure fun and relaxation among friends.

Y/n suddenly pauses in her dance, her breath a little heavy from the intense moves. She looks at Sienna and asks, "Hey, I need to use the restroom. Where is it again?"

Sienna replies, "It's just down the hallway to your right."

Y/n nods, thankful for the directions. She excuses herself from the game, knowing that she'll rejoin them in a moment. She makes her way out of the living room, turning right and heading down the hallway towards the bathroom.

As Y/n heads down the hallway, her attention is abruptly drawn to a voice coming from the nearby study room. The sound of Marietta's voice is unmistakably loud and emotional, even through the closed door.

Y/n stops for a moment, a sense of unease settling in the pit of her stomach. What is Marietta doing in there? Who is she talking to? Y/n hesitates for a brief moment before her curiosity gets the better of her, and she quietly moves closer to the study room door, trying to listen in on the conversation inside.

She presses her ear to the door, her heart racing a little with curiosity and a hint of worry. The muffled voices and exchange of words carry faintly from the other side, but it's too indistinct to make out anything specific.

Y/n's heart sinks as she opens the door and finds the most unexpected scene unfolding before her eyes. Marietta, pressed up against Oscar, is kissing him on the lips, her hands gripping his shirt fervently. Oscar caught off guard, is frozen in surprise.

As Y/n turns to run out of the room, her heart is pounding in her chest. She doesn't look back, her mind still trying to process what she's just seen. Just as she leaves, Oscar finally pulls away from Marietta, pushing her off him as the shock of the situation sets in.

Oscar, completely stunned and furious, turns on Marietta once Y/n has left the room. He swears at her, his voice booming with anger. "What the fuck were you thinking, Marietta?! That was absolutely out of line!"

He doesn't wait for a response, his thoughts solely on Y/n and the hurt he knows she must be feeling. Without another word, he dashes out of the room, determined to find her.

In his panic, Oscar urgently turns to Arthur who is still playing Just Dance. "Arthur! Where did Y/n go?!" He desperately looks around for any sign of her, his voice urgent.

Arthur, startled by Oscar's sudden outburst, pauses their game and looks around. "I'm not sure, man. She said she was going to the bathroom, but that was a few minutes ago. Why?"

Despite his panic, Oscar's observant eye catches the sight of something through all the chaos. Glancing towards the door that leads to the garden outside, he sees it left slightly ajar.

"Hey, the door." he points out to Arthur without finishing his sentence. Understanding immediately, Oscar heads towards the door, knowing that Y/n might have gone outside.

Y/n hurries outside, her vision blurred by the tears streaming down her face. She's on the verge of breaking down, the image of Marietta kissing Oscar still fresh in her mind. She feels betrayed and hurt, the weight of the situation bearing down on her as she seeks solace in the solitude of the outdoors.

The cool night air stings her flushed cheeks as she move aimlessly, the dim lamp posts casting long shadows across the garden paths.

Her steps falter as she hears Oscar's voice calling out to her from behind. The sound of his voice only serves to deepen the ache in her heart, a mix of anger and sadness welling inside her. Despite her urge to keep walking, she finds herself pausing, torn between the need to confront him and the desire to just keep running away.

Y/n steps into the small hedge maze, she moves with swift determination. Growing up alongside Sienna and Marietta, she had spent many hours playing in this maze, and it seemed that the memory of it was ingrained in her mind. She navigates through the dark twists and turns, knowing instinctively which path to take to reach the center.

All the while, Oscar follows close behind her, his footsteps audible in the midst of Y/n's sniffles and the quietness of the night. The maze seems isolating and yet eerily intimate, as if nature itself is enclosing them within it's emerald green walls.

The labyrintine path of the hedge maze seems to trap the sounds of their steps, creating and almost eerie effect as they move towards the center. Every few seconds, Y/n can hear Oscar's footsteps behind her, reminding her that he is still there, and they're getting closer to the heart of the maze, which feels more like a trap than a place of refuge.

Y/n increases her pace, desperately trying to lose Oscar in the maze. As her heart races, her tears fall even faster, creating a steady stream down her face. At last, she reaches the heart of the maze, a decent sized, circular clearing where two lone benches and limestone statue reside beneath the shadows of the tall hedges.

As Y/n regains her breath and looks around the clearing, her gaze falls upon the statue in the center. It is a sight that holds beauty and pain - for her at least. The statue depicts Marietta and Sienna's parents dancing on their wedding night, a frozen moment of joy and celebration carved out in stone.

The sight only serves to make Y/n's heartache deepen, the knowledge that the very garden she's standing in is Marietta's only adds another layer of complexity to her emotions.

Y/n curls into a tight ball on the bench, her knees pressed against her chest. The tears fall relentlessly, staining her face and pooling against the material of her dress, leaving dark patches on the otherwise pristine fabric. In this moment, she doesn't care about her appearance or the state of her clothes. It all seems trivial compared to the pain she's feeling.

Her soft sobs echo through the otherwise silent garden, creating a somber atmosphere. The shadows around her seem to wrap around her, almost as if they are trying to comfort her, but their efforts are in vain. The grief and hurt she feels are far too deep to be comforted by mere shadows of the night.

For the next several minutes, Y/n's emotional pain is her reality. Her tears flow freely, and her body shudders with each sob. There's no one else around to bear witness to her pain, only the silent, unfeeling stone of the statue and the endless night that seems to press down on her from all sides.

Y/n's tearful sobs are abruptly interrupted by the sudden appearance of Oscar, materializing from behind the statue like a ghost in the night. She hadn't expected him to reach the center from the opposite entrance, and her eyes widen slightly at his arrival.

Oscar approaches Y/n, his steps cautios and unsure. He's keenly aware of the turmoil he's caused, the hurt he's inflicted, and the sight of her tear-stained face only increases his guilt. He takes a seat next to her on the bench, his movements tentative and careful.

He hesitates as he stands next to the bench, his eyes on Y/n. He waits a beat before he musters up the courage to ask, his voice low and pleading, "Can I sit down too?"

Y/n doesn't respond immediately, her tear-streaked eyes remain fixed on the limestone statue. After a few moments, she gives a slight nod, indicating that he can sit beside her.

Oscar takes her silent gesture as permission, and slowly lowers himself onto the bench next to her. He leaves a small gap between them, respecting her need for space but still wanting to be close enough to talk to her.

Y/n finally speaks up, her voice slightly shaky and raw from crying. "That statue... It's Sienna's mom and dad on their wedding night."

She glances at the statue, her expressio unreadable. The sight that once seemed beautiful now only adds to the pain and hurt she's feeling.

Her words hang in the air between them, the statue's frozen dance of joy and celebration serving as a stark contrast to the despair and heartbreak that now pervades the center of the maze.

Y/n continues, her words laced with a mix of nostalgia and sorrow. "Tio Marcello, Sienna and Mariettas dad, he had this statue commissioned a little while after their wedding. He said it was a token of love and happiness, to forever remember that night..."

Her voice quivers a bit as she continues, the story taking on a ore poignant tone. "Especially because of what happened after... Tio Marcello and Tia Inez- Marietta's mom, got a divorce. Tio found out she was cheating on him with another man. It was a messy divorce, especially with Marietta still a toddler at that time."

Y/n's voice gains a hint of a smile as she continues. "He eventually found Tia Genevieve, and through her, he discovered what true love really means. That's why he had this statue made, to symbolize the love that endures, despite the heartache of the past."

She looks at the statue once more, her eyes tracing the frozen dance of the couple, eternalized in stone. "It's supposed to be inspirational, I guess... a reminder that love can prevail, even in the face of betrayal and pain.

"It's ironic... that it's here, in Marietta's garden," she says, with a bitter edge to her voice. The symbolism of the statue, against the backdrop of Marietta's actions is cruel, barbaric almost.

Y/n's words hang heavy in the air, the irony of the statues location not on either of them. The reminder of love and resilience, standing in the shadow of a betrayal and heartache, feels almost cruel, adding yet another layer of the complex emotions that fills the silence between them.

Oscar, who had been quietly listening, finally breaks the silence. His voice is soft and measured as he looks at Y/n, his eyes holding a mix of regret and determination.

"Y/n," he says, his voice filled with earnest sincerity. "I need to explain. I need to... I know I screwed up, and I need to talk to you. Can you listen to me, please?"

Y/n's gaze slowly turns towards him, her eyes still red and puffy from crying. Her expression is guarded, the pain in her eyes still evident. But she nods, a small gesture that indicates she's willing to hear himout.

Oscar exhales, relief flooding through him at her gesture. He hesitates for a moment, gathering his thoughts before he speaks. The silence between them is tense, the weight of the unspoken words between them hanging in the air like a guillotine.

Finally, Oscar begins, his voice is low and serious. "I'm so sorry, Y/n. I'm sorry for what you saw, for what you must be feeling right now. I can't even imagine..."

Oscar looks at Y/n, his expression is earnest and open. "Y/n, I need you to know that I didn't want that kiss. Marietta kissed me, not the other way around. I didn't want it, I rejected her. I... I love you, Y/n. You have to believe me."

His words are filled with earnestness and sincerity, his voice laced with a hint of desperation. He looks into her eyes, waiting for her to respond, to see if she believes him, to know he isn't lying.

The silence between them is deafening. Oscar's heart beats in his chest, his eyes pleading for Y/n to believe him. The only sound is the distant murmur of the party still going on inside, a stark contract to the quiet, intimate bubble they've created for themselves in the garden.

"Please," he whispers, his voice hoarse. "Please, believe me. I would never... I could never do that you. I love you, Y/n."

Oscar's eyes begin to glisten with tears as he speaks, his voice filled with a raw, emotional intensity. "I love you, Y/n. I've never felt this way about anyone before. My heart, my soul, everything I am is yours. I would never do anything to hurt you, I swear. You have to believe me. Please, I need you to believe me."

His tears fall now, unrestrained, as he pours his heart out to her. He reaches out a trembling hand, wanting to touch her, to hold her, but he hesitates, unsure if she'll allow it.

Y/n rises from the bench, the sudden movement causing Oscar to withdraw his extended hand. He looks at her, his eyes pleading, hoping for some sign, any sign, that she believes him

Y/n stands in front of Oscar, her eyes meeting his. The air is filled with tension, the emotional weight of the moment almost tangible. She doesn't speak, simply looks at him, her expression hard to read.

Oscar's heart pounds in his chest, his breath coming is shallow gasps. He sits there, his eyes locked on hers, to say something, anything. The silence is deafening, the seconds passing by like hours.

He hesitantly reaches out hs hand, his hands hovering a mere inch from her arm, not quite touching, but the intention clear. He wants to hold her, to pull her into his arms and never let her go.

Y/n suddenly moves towards Oscar, her body colliding with his own and pulling him into a tight hug. The unexpected embrace catches him off guard, but he responds immediately, wrapping his arms around her as she falls to her knees.

They sink to the ground, their bodies pressed so close together it's impossible to tell where one ends, and where the other begins. He holds her tightly, his chin resting against her shoulder, feeling the tears of relief dampen his shirt.

"I love you," he whispers, the words half-muffled by her hair. "I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry. Please forgive me. I love you so much."

He pulls her even closer, clutching her as if she's the last solid thing in a world that's suddenly tilted on its axis. The sounds of the party from inside the house fade to the background, their world now reduced to this quiet, hidden corner of the garden.

For a moment, they stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms, the world around them completely forgotten. The only sound is their erratic breaths, the only touch their bodies pressed so closely together that it feels like one being.

As they hold each other, he lets out a soft, shuddering breath, the relief so profound it almost hurts. Her words break through the stillness of the night, her voice quiet but firm. "Even if it was on purpose... even if you wanted it... I still would've forgiven you."

Y/n's words, whispered into his ear, hit him like a truck. Even if it had been on purpose, even if he had wanted it, she would still forgive him? The idea is both humbling and incredibly saddening.

The words hang in the air, a profound declaration of love and trust. She speaks as if there's no doubt in her mind that she would forgive him, no matter the circumstances. The implication is clear - her love for him is deep, so boundless, that she'd overlook even the most grievous of transgressions.

A soft, shaky chuckle escapes Oscar as Y/n speaks. He pulls back slightly, looking down at her with a mixture of amusement and awe. "Don't say that baby," he says, his voice still slightly hoarse. "Please, do not say that. You're making me worry for your self-respect if you say things like that.

Y/n melts into Oscar's touch as his fingers gently brush away her tears. She looks up at him, her eyes still damp with tears but a soft smile on her lips. "I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice so soft it's almost a sigh.

The apology is heartfelt, tinged with a note of regret. It's not just for the tears or the emotional upheaval of the evening, but for the pain, the doubt, and the fear that she'd felt in her heart, even if her head told her all along that Oscar's loyalty was never in question.

Oscar shakes his head, his eyes soft as he gazes down at her. "No, don't apologize," he says, his voice low and sincere. "I'm the one who needs to apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for."

He cups her face gently with both hands, forcing her to look up at him, to see the earnestness in his eyes. "You're perfect, Y/n," he says, his voice filled with a desperate sort of tenderness. "You have every right to be hurt, to feel betrayed, to doubt…"

He continues, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on her cheeks, his touch so infinitely tender it almost hurts. "I would've done the exact same if the roles were reversed. I would be heartbroken, too, if I thought for even a second that you were unfaithful to me."

"But I need you to know," he says softly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "That it will never happen. I will never, ever betray you. I love you more than anything in this world. You are everything to me."

As Y/n nods, agreeing with his words, her tears still fresh on her cheeks, she leans in and kisses him. The kiss is salty, the taste of her tears mixing with the sweetness of her lips, creating an oddly beautiful combination. Oscar responds immediately, eagerly, his hands still cupping her face, his lips pressing against hers with a desperate kind of tenderness.

The kiss deepens, their bodies pressing even closer together, the heat of their bodies and the cold of the night creating a strange but delightful contrast. For a moment, all the stress, all the fear, all the doubt vanishes, leaving only this — this moment of absolute, unadulterated love and connection.

When they finally break apart, they're both a little breathless, a little dazed, a lot in love. The party continues to thump and pulse inside the house, but out here, in this small bubble of intimacy they've created, it's as if the rest of the world has faded completely away.

As the sound of the thunder echoes around them, Y/n glances up at the darkening skies and turns to Oscar. "We should probably get out of the maze," she says, her voice tinged with a hint of trepidation. "It's going to start pouring any minute now."

Oscar nods in agreement, reluctantly breaking their embrace, but still holding her hand tightly in his. They stand up, the reality of the storm outside forcing them back into the present. The maze, which had earlier seemed like a magical, secluded oasis, now feels almost menacing as the storm rolls in.

The rain begins to fall suddenly, fat droplets splattering against the paved path as the storm unleashed its fury upon the night. Y/n grabs Oscar's hand tightly, the cold droplets seeping into their skin as they begin a run for the greenhouse nearby, hoping to find shelter from the storm.

The greenhouse materializes through the heavy rain as they run, its glass walls barely visible in the pitch-black night. They reach the structure moments later, their breathing ragged and chests heaving as they step underneath the shelter of the greenhouse roof.

The greenhouse, once a warm, glass sanctuary, is now dimly lit by the artificial glow of the lights. Y/n finds the light switch and flips it on, casting the inside of the lighthouse in a faint yellow light that reflects off the glass panes. She then closes the door behind them, effectively sealing them inside as the storm rages on outside.

Y/n and Oscar stand for a moment just inside the greenhouse, taking in the sight of each other, the adrenaline from the run mixing with the leftover emotion from their previous conversation. They're both breathing heavily, their clothes slightly damp from the rain, their hearts still racing with the intensity of the recent events.

The tension from the moment earlier and the wild sprint from the maze give way to uncontrollable laughter as they stand there in the greenhouse. The laughter mixes with the sound of the rain against the glass, creating a strangely beautiful and almost surreal atmosphere.

They're both bent over slightly, clutching their stomachs as giggles and laughter escape them. They're not sure if it's the absurdity of the situation they've found themselves in, the relief from the earlier emotional upheaval, or just the sheer ridiculousness of running through a storm only to end up in a greenhouse.

Y/n, still giggling a bit, spots a chair near a metal outdoor table and sits down, the laughter now slowly subsiding to soft chuckles. She leans back in the chair, the hard lines of the metal contrasting with the soft lines of her body. Her eyes are still sparkling with humor and something else - maybe affection, maybe relief - as she looks up at Oscar.

Oscar walks over, his steps loose and relaxed after the sudden burst of laughter. He moves to the side of the table, hoisting himself up to sit on its surface, facing Y/n. There's a lazy, easy smile on his face, a stark contrast to the tension from earlier.

The space around them feels almost intimate in the dimly lit greenhouse, the sound of the rain outside creating a sort of soft, rhythmic counterpoint to the beating of their hearts. They sit in silence for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say, but both just taking in each other's presence.

Oscar reaches out towards her, brushing some wayward strands of hair away from her forehead. The gesture is tender, and gentle, as he pushes the damp locks away from her face. The pads of his fingers linger against her skin, the touch so familiar and loving, yet still sparking a small spark of electricity.

In the quiet, intimate atmosphere of the greenhouse, the simple act of tidying her hair suddenly feels like the most intimate thing. His fingers trace the line of her jaw, as if committing its curve to memory.

His gaze travels over her face, taking in every feature, every line, every tiny detail. In the faint light, he sees the traces of her tears, but also the flush of her cheeks, the glimmer in her eyes. She looks so beautiful, so vulnerable, and so completely his in this moment.

Oscar leans in, his eyes still locked on hers. The kiss is soft, gentle, filled with all the love and relief he feels in that moment. His hand, still close to her face, moves downwards, cupping her chin, holding her face in place so he can kiss her thoroughly, desperately.

It's as if all the fear, all the doubt, all the uncertainty from earlier has vanished. Now, there's only this – the taste of her lips, the heat of her skin, the sound of her breath mixing with his. The greenhouse becomes a cocoon, sealing them off from the storm outside, and the rest of the world.

Their kiss breaks, leaving them both a little breathless once more. A soft, giddy laugh escapes Y/n, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of joy, affection, and residual laughter. She looks like a teenager who's just had her first kiss, with flushed cheeks and a wide, unashamed smile on her lips.

Oscar watches her, the sight of her joy and innocence filling him with a fond, almost protective kind of warmth. There's a softness in his eyes as he looks at her, his own lips curving into a smile at her reaction.

"You look like a high schooler who's just had her first kiss," he teases, the amusement clear in his voice even as his look remains incredibly fond.

Y/n, seemingly oblivious to the slight edge of huskiness in his voice, grins wider, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Do I?" she asks, her tone faux-innocent, her cheeks still a little pink.

Y/n's gaze drifts towards the corner of the greenhouse, catching sight of an old-fashioned record player sitting there. Her eyebrows raise slightly in surprise, the old piece of technology somewhat out of place in the modern setting of the greenhouse.

Her eyes linger on it for a moment, the sudden appearance of the record player piquing her curiosity. She looks back at Oscar, a question forming on her lips. "Is that thing still working?" she asks, nodding in the direction of the record player.

Oscar follows her gaze to the record player, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Only one way to find out," he replies, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

He hops down from the table, his footsteps light and almost silent on the tiled floor of the greenhouse. He crosses over to the record player, crouching down to examine it. He gives it a light tap, as if to see if it'll magically come to life.

Y/n lets out a soft, slightly tipsy giggle as she watches Oscar tinker with the record player. The effect of the alcohol in her system is still quite apparent, adding a giggly, almost carefree vibe to her behavior.

She stands up, her steps a bit less steady than usual from the earlier alcohol consumption. She moves over to where Oscar is crouched beside the record player, joining him in his inspection of the old piece of machinery.

Y/n, a little giggly but very much curious, bends down beside Oscar and rummages through the collection of records next to the player. After a moment, she pulls out a worn vinyl record, its cover slightly faded but still clearly displaying the title "Can't Help Falling in Love" by Elvis Presley.

She holds it up, her eyes dancing with excitement as she shows it to Oscar. "Look what I found," she says, her voice tinged with an almost childlike glee.

The record is old, and clearly well-loved, and it gives off a certain nostalgia that's fitting for the greenhouse setting. The song choice is ironic, given the events of the evening, but in a way, it feels almost prophetic.

The lyrics of the song, a classic declaration of undying love, seem to echo the emotions they've been going through the entire night. It's as if the universe is playing a game, leaving hints and signs in the most unexpected places.

The song, in its simplicity and sincerity, feels like a perfect soundtrack for the night. The rain outside is still falling, the room is still dim, and yet, the mood inside the greenhouse is almost strangely romantic.

Oscar takes in the sight of the record and the song title, a slow smile spreading across his face. He glances at Y/n, the irony of the song choice not lost on him. "Elvis, huh?" he asks, his voice laced with humor and affection.

Y/n grins, the smile on her face wide and bright. "Can't help falling in love, right?" she quips, her words a little slurred but filled with a joyous, almost drunken honesty.

Oscar snorts out a laugh, the sound a mixture of amusement and fondness. "Very fitting," he replies, taking the record from her and looking it over.

Oscar takes the record from Y/n and gently places it onto the player. For a moment, there's nothing but the sound of the rain and the soft, almost expectant silence inside the greenhouse. Then, a soft crackling sound fills the air, the old record player coming to life after a beat.

A second later, the soft, melodic tones of "Can't Help Falling in Love" by Elvis Presley start to fill the greenhouse.

Wise men say, only fools rush in But I can't help falling with you.

Oscar, with a soft, almost tender smile on his face, turns to Y/n and holds out a hand to her. "Care to dance?" he asks, his voice smooth and silky. The soft, romantic tones of the song in the background seem like the perfect invitation.

Y/n, her eyes still sparkling with a tipsy sort of glee, grins from ear to ear. She places her hand in his, her fingers fitting perfectly with his. "I thought you'd never ask," she teases, her words slurring just a bit but filled with unabashed anticipation.

Take my hand, take my whole life too, For I can't help falling in love with you.

Oscar pulls her closer, his other hand coming around to rest on the fabric of her back. She molds herself against him, their bodies pressing against each other rhythmically as they start to sway to the music.

Like a river flows, surely to the sea, Darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be

The atmosphere inside the greenhouse is now almost dreamlike, the dim light, the soft rain, the old record player, and the soft music creating a scene like out of a movie. They dance together, their movements slow, intimate, their bodies responding to each other as if in a well-rehearsed routine.

There's no fancy footwork, no complicated steps. They're just swaying back and forth, the music guiding their movements. Yet, in this simple act, there's a sort of raw, vulnerable intimacy. They're not just dancing – they're holding each other, feeling each other, silently saying all the things they can't quite voice in that moment.

The lyrics of the song float around them, wrapping them in a cocoon of tender sentimentality. The words "For I can't help falling in love with you" seem to echo in the air as they spin around in slow, languorous movements.

They're not exactly graceful, occasionally tripping over each other's feet. But they laugh it off, the clumsiness of the moment adding to the charm. The song reaches its crescendo, the chorus coming back for another round. Oscar pulls her just a bit closer, his arms holding her tighter as they dance beneath the dim light.

The world outside could've fallen apart, and they wouldn't have noticed. Right now, this moment, this dance, is the only thing that matters. The rain continues to fall outside, the greenhouse protecting them from the storm, and inside, they're dancing like there's no tomorrow, their bodies pressed together, their breaths mingling, their hearts beating in sync.

The song reaches its end, the final notes of "Can't Help Falling in Love" trailing off softly. The record player clicks, indicating the end of the song, and the greenhouse is silent again, save for the sound of the rain outside and their soft breaths, a little heavier from the intensity of the dance.

They stand there, their arms still wrapped around each other, not quite ready to let go just yet. They're both a little breathless from the dance, their bodies close, their heartbeats still a little faster than usual. Y/n remains pressed against him, her cheek against his chest, the soft fabric of his shirt warm and comforting.

Oscar gently releases Y/n from his arms, reluctantly letting go of the intimacy of the moment. He carefully takes the vinyl record and places it back in its place among the others. As he does so, he glances back at Y/n, the sight of her still a little flush and out of breath from the dance stirring something protective and affectionate inside him.

The record is placed back, and the vinyl collection is neatly arranged once more. Oscar turns back to Y/n, his eyes sweeping over her, taking in the sight of her tousled hair and slightly disheveled state. There's a soft, almost tender smile on his lips as he steps closer to her, his hands itching to reach out and touch her again.

The space between them feels charged now, the recent dance leaving them both feeling a bit raw and vulnerable. Oscar takes another step closer, his eyes locked on her face, drinking in the details. The dim light of the greenhouse casts shadows across her face, making her look both vulnerable and incredibly beautiful at the same time.

Y/n looks out at the rain, which is still falling heavily, and then back at Oscar. "What should we do now?" she asks, a hint of disappointment in her voice. "It's still raining too hard to go back."

Oscar follows her gaze out the greenhouse door, peering out into the rain-soaked night. The rain is still falling with a steady intensity, the sound of it creating a soothing yet continuous white noise. He turns his attention back to her, his expression thoughtful for a moment before a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Looks like we're stuck here a bit longer," he notes, leaning against the table and crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes remain on her, taking in the sight of her, as he seems to contemplate something.

There's a certain sort of tension in the air now, the knowledge that they're trapped there together for a while longer giving the situation a new quality. The rain continues its monotonous pitter-patter against the glass panes, creating a sort of isolating atmosphere that feels almost intimate.

Oscar watches Y/n, the silence between them almost a tangible thing. The rain outside and the enclosed space of the greenhouse make the atmosphere feel secluded, almost surreal, as if they're the only two people in the world right now.

The sounds of the rain and the relative dimness of the light create a cocoon-like feeling, cutting them off from the rest of the world. Oscar's eyes remain fixed on Y/n, studying her almost, his gaze occasionally flickering down to her lips before returning to her eyes.

The moment stretches on, the silence both comforting and slightly charged. Oscar looks like he has something to say, but he remains silent, seemingly wrestling with some sort of internal debate. Y/n feels his gaze on her, his eyes lingering on her face, her lips, and occasionally on her hair.

After a beat, Oscar finally breaks the silence, his voice dropping to a low, almost gravelly tone. "You know, this rain is quite something," he mused, his words a barely-veiled attempt to keep the conversation going, to fill the silence that was settling between them.

Y/n grins, a breathless but amused laugh escaping her. "You're trying to make small talk, aren't you?" she responds, the playfulness in her tone clearly showing that she's not fooled by his attempt.

Oscar feigns innocence, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Me, trying to make small talk? Never," he replies, his tone deliberately casual, but his eyes betraying his amusement.

Y/n laughs again, her eyes sparkling with a mix of humor and affection. She knows he's bullshitting, and he knows she knows. But it's part of their bantering dynamic, and it's almost comforting in its familiarity.

The rain continues to fall outside, the sound of it providing a sort of background white noise to their conversation. Oscar regards her with a half-smirk of playful resignation, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and something a little darker, more intense.

They move over to the chairs, their movements somewhat less than graceful due to the alcohol in their systems. They both sink into the seats, a mutual sigh escaping them as they get comfortable. The rain continues to fall outside, the pitter-patter of the water against the glass adding a cozy, relaxing sort of atmosphere inside the greenhouse.

Y/n, still a bit tipsy but feeling relaxed and comfortable, looks around the greenhouse, admiring the lush plants and cozy set-up. "I've always wanted to have a greenhouse," she confesses, her tone a mix of wistfulness and satisfaction. "I love being surrounded by plants and nature. It's so calming."

Y/n's expression softens, her gaze drifting around the greenhouse as she thinks about her past. "This greenhouse, and the hedge maze outside, are honestly where some of the happiest moments in my life have taken place," she says, her voice slightly hushed, as if she's lost in memories.

Y/n snorts out a laugh, a fond smile on her face as she recalls a memory from her childhood. "You know, this is gonna sound silly, but that hedge maze outside is where Sienna asked me to be her best friend when we were five years old," she says, amusement and nostalgia mixing in her tone.

"We were just a couple of little kids, running around in that maze, giggling and chasing each other. She suddenly stopped, turned to me, and very seriously said 'I want you to be my best friend.' I remember thinking she said it with such gravitas, as if it was the most important thing in the world," she adds, her eyes going a little soft as she reminisces.

Y/n's expression turns a bit sadder now, but there's also a note of sweetness in her eyes as she recalls another memory. "And this greenhouse was where my dad danced with me the night before my 18th birthday," she says, her tone tinged with a mix of nostalgia and melancholy. "He said it was because he wanted to have some time alone with his little girl before she turned into a lady."

She pauses, a soft smile on her face. "We danced to some old, cheesy love songs, and he jokingly called me his princess. I remember feeling so grown up, special… and a little scared about what turning 18 would mean," she confesses, the memory painting a picture of a younger, more innocent version of herself.

Y/n's expression softens further, a tender, almost affectionate smile playing on her lips. "And here I am, dancing with the love of my life," she says, her words filled with an underlying note of gratitude and irony. It's a moment that feels like both a bittersweet memory and a present-day reality.

She locks eyes with Oscar, a flood of emotions clear in her gaze — affection, admiration, a hint of vulnerability. The greenhouse feels like a sort of sacred space, filled with memories and emotions that are both poignant and cherished.

Oscar smiles at Y/n, his eyes reflecting a mix of affection and curiosity. He seems to mull over a question for a moment before finally voicing it, his tone inquisitive but casual. "Can I ask you something?" he asks, his gaze drifting to her face. He waits for her to nod before continuing, "How are you and Sienna connected?"

Y/n nods, her expression taking on a nostalgic look as she explains. "Our fathers are best friends. They grew up together, just like Sienna and I did," she says, her voice carrying a note of familiarity and closeness. "So, naturally, our families are super close. We've practically grown up together. She's more a sister than a best friend at this point."

There's a fondness in her tone, a clear affection and connection with Sienna that goes deeper than just friendship. The knowledge that their families are tied together - their fathers being practically brothers - gives their relationship an extra layer of significance and history.

Y/n adds, her voice dropping to a quiet, almost reflective tone. "And you know, my mom moved to Australia to study high school, that's where she met your mom and all that. Then my mom went back to Monaco to study business, and my parents met in college. They eventually moved together to Italy."

Her words describe a life that's been somewhat chaotic but also filled with connections and meaningful moments. It's a life that's full of stories and history, a life that's shaped her in ways even she might not fully understand.

Y/n continues, a faraway look in her eyes as she recalls the events. "We only stayed here until I was 10, then we moved to Monaco because of some family issues on my mother's side," she says, her voice almost whispering the words, like they're part of a half-forgotten memory.

The mention of 'family problems' stirs up a myriad of unspoken implications, perhaps hinting at complexities and hardships in her family history.

Y/n continues, her voice taking on a more light-hearted tone. "When we moved into our new house in Monaco, it turns out that Arthur and Sienna are cousins, but neither of us- the children, knew till our families all ended up in Italy."

She chuckles a bit, the coincidence of it all adding an almost comedic element to the tale. Families, friends, and history are all interconnected in unforeseen and amusing ways.

The mention of families mixing together, with Arthur and Sienna being cousins, adds another layer to their familial web. It's a reminder that families can be as complex as they are close-knit, and sometimes, it takes moving countries to reveal these hidden connections. The humor in discovering such a connection after their move adds a touch of hilarity to the situation.

Y/n suddenly snaps out of her reminiscent state, her eyes widening slightly as she realizes how much she's said. A sheepish expression appears on her face, and she apologizes, her voice a tad embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry," she says, a small, self-conscious laugh escaping her. "I got a bit carried away there. Sorry for rambling so much."

Oscar, sensing her slight embarrassment, quickly reassures her. "No, it's fine," he says, his tone warm and encouraging. "Keep talking. I like hearing your voice."

His words are a testament to his interest in what she's saying, but also his desire to keep their conversation going, to keep learning more about her - her past, her thoughts, her feelings. It's a small, but meaningful gesture of interest and intimacy between them.

Y/n smiles, her embarrassment fading away a bit at his reassurance. She appreciates his interest and the fact that he actually enjoys listening to her. It gives her an unexpected boost of confidence, making her feel more comfortable and at ease.

Y/n, encouraged by his words and the comfortable atmosphere between them, continues talking. She picks up where she left off, her voice soft and thoughtful as she dives back into her recollection.

As she speaks, the rain continues to fall in a steady but less aggressive rhythm outside, adding a soothing soundtrack to their conversation.

Y/n observes the rain outside, noticing that it's started to lighten up a bit. She sighs, her expression showing a mix of reluctance and knowing. "Looks like the rain's starting to let up," she says, a note of resignation in her voice. "We should probably head back."

There's a pause, both of them seeming to acknowledge that their private sanctuary in the greenhouse is coming to an end. They'll have to return to the hustle and bustle of the party, though they both seem a little reluctant to leave the peaceful solitude they've found.

At Y/n's suggestion, Oscar starts to rise from his seat, pushing off the table and standing up. He stretches, his body a bit stiff from sitting in the same position for quite a while. As he straightens up, he runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it a bit.

As they both make their way towards the door, Oscar, ever the gentleman, opens it for her, gesturing for her to walk through first. He waits until she's outside before following her, stepping out into the night air.

Once outside, they find the rain has indeed lessened, though it's still not completely stopped. The air is cool and crisp, a welcome respite from the stifling atmosphere inside the greenhouse. The sounds of the party have lessened somewhat, but there's still a buzz of activity in the distance.

They walk side by side, their hands intertwined as they make their way back to the main house. They walk slowly, their pace leisurely, neither in a hurry to return to the party. The night air is cool against their skin, and the distant sounds of the party provide a faint, almost soothing background noise.

As they walk back towards the house, Oscar looks over at her and asks, "Do you want to go home?" His voice is casual, but his gaze is searching, hoping for a favorable response.

Oscar suggests, a hint of genuine concern laced in his words. "You can always ask your father if we can go home. You can say you're not feeling well."

Y/n pondered the thought for a moment, her expression contemplating. Oscar's suggestion was not bad; it would certainly explain their early exit from the party. But she didn't want to cause a scene or make her father worry unnecessarily.

Still, the more she thought about it, the more the idea seemed appealing. She did feel a bit drained and was slightly tipsy. But there was also a part of her that didn't want the night to end just yet.

After a moment of hesitation, Y/n nodded. "Sure," she said, her voice a bit reluctant but determined. "I'll ask my dad if we can go home."

As they enter the living room, it's clear that they've both been caught in the rain. Their clothes are a bit damp, leaving small droplets of water on the floor. The sounds of the party that were previously muffled by the rain now become clear again, the hum of conversation and soft music filling the air.

They make their way into the dining room, the hum of conversation filling their ears as they enter. The adults, including Y/n's parents, are still engaged in their discussions, wine glasses in hand and faces flushed with the effects of alcohol.

Y/n's gaze automatically drifts towards her father, who is sitting at the table, surrounded by other adults. He's engaged in conversation, sipping from a wine glass, looking every bit the successful businessman he is. Noticing her and Oscar's entry, her father looks up, a brief glance at their soaked clothes and Y/n's face giving away her slightly tipsy state.

He raises an eyebrow in question, his gaze flickering over Y/n and Oscar. Seeing their drenched state and Y/n's tipsy appearance, it's clear he's expecting an explanation.

Y/n clears her throat, her heart beating a tad bit faster under her father's scrutinizing gaze. She steps forward, her eyes holding his for a moment before speaking. "Dad," she starts, her voice steady despite the slight buzz she's feeling, "I'm not feeling too well. Can Oscar and I go home?"

Her father regards her quietly for a moment, assessing her state. His expression doesn't give away his thoughts, but his eyes seem to linger on her flushed cheeks and slightly glassy eyes. Everyone else's conversation has gone quiet, and several pairs of eyes are now on them.

After a moment, her father nods, his expression slightly stern. "Alright," he says, his voice loud enough for the others to hear. "You two can head home. Drive safely, and make sure to text me when you get there, Y/n."

The other adults offer their goodbyes and well-wishes, a mixture of amusement and concern in their faces. Y/n's mother, a bit tipsy herself, pats Y/n on the cheek a little too hard, her words slurring slightly. "Be careful, love."

Y/n nods at her mother's words, forcing a thin smile on her face. She feels Oscar's presence beside her, his hand finding hers once again, an unspoken comfort in the gesture. They take a last moment to say goodbye to the adults, before finally making their way towards the exit.

As they head towards the exit, Y/n spots Marietta, their eyes meeting across the room. Despite the distance, there's something in Marietta's gaze that makes Y/n pause for a brief moment. It's a look that's a mix of curiosity and something else that Y/n can't quite decipher. The moment is over almost as quickly as it began, and Y/n and Oscar step outside, leaving the party behind.

As they approach the car, Oscar dutifully opens the passenger side door for her, a gallant gesture that's becoming familiar between them. Y/n smiles at him, a little bit of a tipsy blush on her face, appreciating his chivalry.

She gets into the car, the soft interior enveloping her in its familiar comfort. As Oscar closes the door behind her, she leans back against the leather seat, feeling a wave of fatigue mixed with the lingering effects of the alcohol.

She watches as Oscar walks around the car to the driver's side. It's a sight she's seen countless times before, but there's a sort of domestic intimacy about it that she finds oddly soothing in her slightly inebriated state.

Once Oscar gets into the car, he starts the engine, the low hum of the vehicle breaking the silence. He glances over at her, his expression a mix of concern and affection. "You okay?" he asks, his voice betraying a slight worry.

Y/n nods, her eyelids heavy and just a little bit unsteady. She offers him a small smile, trying to appear more put together than she feels at the moment. "I'm fine," she assures him, her words a tad bit slurred but mostly coherent.

Oscar looks at her for a moment longer, his gaze searching her face for any sign of discomfort. After a moment, he seems somewhat satisfied, his eyes turning back to the road. "Alright," he says, his tone gentle, "just relax, okay? We'll be home soon."

Y/n nods again, her eyelids feeling heavier by the minute. She lets out a soft sigh, the hum of the engine and the soft light of the street lamps outside creating a drowsy atmosphere in the car.

She pulls out her phone from her purse, the screen lighting up her face in the darkened car. Her movements are a bit sluggish, and her alcohol-impaired brain takes a bit longer to process simple actions. She starts to scroll through her phone, her fingers gliding across the screen as she absently checks her notifications.

She manages to muster enough coordination to connect her phone to the car's Bluetooth speakers, her eyes still flicking to Oscar's face every now and then. A moment later, music begins to play through the speakers, filling the car with a soft, sultry rhythm.

As she's scrolling through her phone, she suddenly feels a warmth on her thigh. It takes her a moment to realize it's Oscar's hand, his fingers gently brushing against the bare skin under her dress, sending a shiver down her spine. Her eyes widen slightly, her heart rate picking up as the realization sinks in, the touch both unexpected and not unwelcome.

The sudden feeling of his hand on her skin, the warmth of his touch against her bare thigh, is a sharp contrast to the coolness of the night air that wafts in from outside. She glances over at him, his gaze focused on the road ahead, but there's a slight smirk on his lips, a hint that he knows exactly what he's doing.

The realization that he's intentionally trying to tease her, the audacity of him to do this while he's driving, combined with the alcohol-clouded state, makes her feel a mix of irritation and a strange sort of arousal. She wants to say something, to protest, but the words get stuck in her throat, the touch of his hand on her thigh making thinking difficult.

Y/n manages to summon the presence of mind to speak, her words a mixture of playfulness and feigned annoyance. "Really Oz?" she says, her voice a tad bit breathless. The hand on her thigh continues to move, his thumb lightly tracing small circles against her skin. Oscar glances over at her, that smirk still on his lips.

"What?" he asks, his tone innocent, though the look in his eyes tells her he knows exactly what he's doing. "I'm just driving," he chuckles, his hand giving a gentle squeeze.

The subtle movement his hand makes, the way his fingers seem to be purposefully tracing a path up and down her inner thigh, serves as a constant, distracting reminder of his presence. It's clear that he's enjoying her reaction, the way her breath hitches a little, the way she tries to keep her composure.

Despite her efforts to appear unruffled, the effect his touch is having on her is undeniable. Her body betrays her, the warm wave of desire pooling in her core, her mind fuzzy from the alcohol and the distraction of his touch. It's a game they often play, a silent push and pull of control and surrender, and tonight, it seems like he's determined to have his way.

He occasionally glances over at her, his eyes glittering with a mix of amusement and desire. The car glides through the quiet streets, the only sounds are the hum of the engine and their heavy breathing. His hand never leaves her thigh, his touch both a comfort and a source of delicious torment.

After what feels like an eternity, the car finally reaches the gates of Y/n's house. The imposing iron gates swing open quietly at the press of a button, and the car glides into the property, the headlights illuminating the path leading to the house.

As they pull into the driveway, the rain chooses that moment to start pouring heavily, the sound of it hitting the windows and roof of the car creating a soothing symphony. It almost seems like it's the only noise in the world, the silence inside the car adding to the intimate atmosphere.

Oscar parks the car, but it's slightly far from the house due to the crowded cars in front of the entrance. The rain beats against the windows, the soft tapping sound combining with the hum of the car's engine.

"Looks like we'll have to walk a bit," he says, his voice low and quiet. The rain is still pouring, the droplets hitting the ground and bouncing off the pavement, creating little streams that run down the driveway.

Y/n nods, the rain not really a deterrent in her slightly tipsy state. "I don't mind," she says, her voice a bit breathless. Despite her nonchalance, she's keenly aware of how her dress is sticking to her skin due to the dampness of the rain.

As the rain continues to pour, Oscar and Y/n step out of the car, both of them immediately getting drenched under the rain. The water soaks through their clothes, making the thin fabric cling to their bodies. Despite the cold, the rain seems to have the opposite effect, the feeling of the water on their skin adding an element of sensuality to the atmosphere.

With the rain falling so heavily, there's not really any time to waste. They quickly make their way to the front door, both of them running a little faster than usual, their clothes sticking to them like a second skin. The rain pelts down on them, the cold water mixing with the adrenaline of the moment.

They reach the door, both of them a bit breathless, their hair dripping with rain. Y/n fumbles with her keys for a moment, her hands shaky from both the rain and the alcohol. Finally, she manages to unlock the door, and they quickly step inside.

Despite the cold and wetness, Y/n can't help but giggle a little as she puts her purse on the table and takes out her phone. The alcohol is still humming in her veins, making her feel a bit more carefree than usual. She gives her phone a distracted glance, her attention more focused on the state of her clothes and the feeling of the rain-soaked clothes sticking to her skin.

Y/n fishes for her phone in her purse, her fingers fumbling a bit from the cold and her slightly tipsy state. Once she finds it, she quickly types a text message to her father.

"Hi Papa, we're back at home. We made it safe," she types, her words a little slurred but relatively coherent.

As she's in the middle of sending the text, she suddenly feels a pair of arms wrapping around her from behind, and a pair of warm lips brushing against the exposed side of her neck. The unexpected touch makes her gasp in surprise, the phone almost slipping from her grip.

Oscar moves his lips to her ear, whispering his words directly into it, the warmth of his breath sending little shivers down her spine. "You look beautiful like this," he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse with desire.

His hand slides down her waist, his touch light yet possessive, as if marking his territory. He pulls her closer to him, his body pressed against hers so that she can feel the heat and hardness of him against her.

"You have no idea how you look right now," he continues, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "Dripping wet in that dress, your hair all wet and messy," he growls, his hand gripping her hip, his fingers slightly digging into her flesh through the fabric.

His words send a rush of heat through her, the combination of his touch and his words making it hard to think straight. She can feel her body responding to him instinctively, her skin prickling with desire, her breath coming in short gasps.

She leans back against him, her head lolling slightly to the side to give him more access to her neck, silently egging him on with her body. His touch is both tender and demanding, his words a mixture of praise and need.

Y/n turns around in the circle of his arms, her body still flush against his, her wet dress sticking to his shirt, creating an intimate and possessive barrier between them. Without hesitation, she kisses him, her lips meeting his in a heated and demanding embrace.

As she jumps up, wrapping her legs around his waist, he responds instantly, his hands automatically going to her thighs, supporting her weight and pulling her closer to him. The feeling of her body pressed against his, the heat and weight of her in his arms, it's all overwhelming and unbelievably arousing.

The kiss continues, their bodies pressed so tightly together that they seem to have melded into one, their mouths devouring each other hungrily. His hands run up and down her thighs, the feel of her skin, still slightly damp from the rain, driving him wild.

He takes a few steps back, leaning against the nearest wall, supporting Y/n as he does. Their mouths continue to move against each other, the kiss deep and consuming. His hands pull her closer, his fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs as if he could never get her close enough.

After what feels like an eternity, Oscar finally breaks the kiss, his breath coming fast and harsh against her lips. He takes a moment to catch his breath, his hands still holding her against him.

"Your room or mine?" he whispers hoarsely, his voice a low rumble against her ear.

Y/n manages to find her voice, her words coming out a little breathless. "My room," she says, a hint of neediness in her tone. "We already did it in yours."

Oscar carries her all the way upstairs, his hands still gripping her thighs, the feeling of her body against his making it hard for him to focus on anything else. The trip up the stairs seems to take forever, each step bringing them closer to the privacy and intimacy of her room.

Y/n moaned, her hands tangling in Oscar's hair, pulling him closer. Their bodies pressed together, their clothes doing little to hide their arousal. Oscar lightly kicks the door to her bedroom, his impatience and need for her getting the better of him

He sets Y/n down gently on her feet, his hands never leaving her body. He steps back, his eyes raking over her, drinking in her curves, visible through her damp dress.

Oscar reaches behind her, finding the zipper of her dress. Slowly, he pulled it down, his knuckles brushing against her spine, sending shivers down her body. The dress falls open, revealing her bare skin, her breath hitching as the cool air hits her.

Oscar's eyes darken with desire, his hands reaching for the straps of her dress, pushing them off her shoulders, letting the material slide down her body, pooling at her feet.

Y/n stood before Oscar, her dress discarded, her body on full display. Her bare breasts rose and fell with each breath, her nipples hardened peaks, begging for touch. Her white lace panties were damp, the evidence of her arousal visible.

His eyes roamed over her, his gaze hungry, his body hungry with need. "You're beautiful Y/n," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Y/n blushed, her hands reaching for Oscar, pulling him closer. "And you're overdressed," she whispered, her voice a sultry whisper.

Oscar laughed, his hands moving to his shirt, unbuttoning it quickly. He shrugged it off, tossing it aside, his chest bare, his muscles defined.

Y/n's eyes widened, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "Much better," she murmured, her hands reaching for him, her fingers tracing the lines of his abdomen.

Y/n kicked her dress aside, breaking the kiss, her eyes filled with desire. She pushed Oscar back, causing him to sit down on the edge of the bed. She followed, dropping to her knees in front of him.

Her hands reached for his belt, unbuckling it, her fingers deft as she unbuttoned his pants, lowering the zipper. She looked up at Oscar, her eyes filled with hunger. "I want to taste you," she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper.

Y/n leaned in, her breath hot against Oscar's length, her tongue darting out to lick the tip, tasting the bead of pre-cum. She smirked, her eyes meeting his. "You like that, don't you, Oscar?" she teased, her voice a low purr.

Oscar groaned, his hands fisting the sheets beneath him. "Yes, Y/n, please," he begged, his voice thick with need.

Y/n chuckled, her fingers wrapping around his base, guiding him to her mouth. She took him in, her lips stretching around his width, her tongue swirling around his shaft. She took him deeper, her throat relaxing, taking him whole, her nose pressing against his abdomen.

Oscar let out a low moan, his hands reaching for Y/n's hair, guiding her movements. "God, Y/n, you look so pretty taking my cock in your mouth," he praised, his voice filled with desire.

Y/n hummed, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through Oscar. She began to move, her head bobbing, her tongue working in tandem with her lips, creating a rhythm that had Oscar's toes curling.

His hands tightened in her hair, his hips bucking slightly, his body responding to her ministrations. "That feels so good, baby," he groaned, his voice strained.

Y/n continued, her movements becoming more enthusiastic, her suction increasing. She could feel Oscar's body tensing, his release approaching.

Suddenly, pulled her off him, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Stop, Y/n, I don't want to cum like this," he said, his voice firm but gentle.

Y/n pouted, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. "Why not?" she asked, her voice somewhat complaining.

Oscar smiled, his hands reaching for Y/n, pulling her up onto the bed with him. "Because I want to cum inside you," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Oscar moved Y/n, gently laying her down on her back, his eyes filled with desire as he looked at Y/n. "But first, I want to watch you," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Play with yourself for me, Y/n. Show me how you want to be touched."

"Show me what you like, Y/n. Touch yourself for me," Oscar urged, his voice thickening with desire. "I want to see you pleasure yourself, baby."

Y/n bit her lip, her cheeks flushing at Oscar's request. But the desire in his eyes was too much to resist. She lay back, her hands sliding down her body, her fingers hooking into the sides of her panties, slowly pulling them off.

Oscar watched, his eyes darkening with desire as Y/n stripped for him. He stood at the end of the bed, his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it slowly, matching the rhythm of Y/n's movements.

Y/n spread her legs, her fingers finding her center, rubbing slow circles over her clit. She let out a soft moan, her back arching, her body responding to her touch.

Oscar's grip tightened, his strokes becoming more urgent. "That's it, Y/n, show me how you like it," he urged, his voice thick with need.

Y/n's fingers plunged into her depths, her moans growing louder, her body writhing. "Oscar, I want you," she gasped, her eyes meeting his. "I want you to fuck me, hard. I want you to fuck me until I can't remember my own name."

She switched to rubbing her clit, her movements frantic, her body chasing its release. "I want to feel you, Oscar, fill me up, make me yours. I want you to fuck me senseless."

Y/n's breathing grew heavier, her fingers moving faster, her body tensing. "Oscar, please," she begged, her voice desperate. "I need you inside me, now. I can't wait any longer. Please, fuck me, make me cum, make me scream your name."

Her body convulsed, her orgasm approaching. "Oscar, please, I need you," she pleaded, her eyes filled with desperation.

Oscar suddenly grabbed Y/n's wrists, pulling her hands away from her pussy. She let out a cry of frustration, her body arching, seeking release.

"No," Oscar said firmly, his voice a low growl. "The only way you're going to cum tonight is by my mouth, my fingers, or my cock. Understand?"

Y/n whimpered, her body trembling with need. "Yes, I understand," she whispered, her eyes filled with desire and frustration.

Oscar smiled, a wicked glint in his eye. "Good girl," he praised, his voice soft. He picked up Y/n's discarded panties, holding them up to her face. "Now, be quiet for me, alright? Or else I'll have to find something to keep that pretty mouth of yours busy."

He held the panties near her lips, his eyebrow raised in warning. "Understood?"

Y/n nodded frantically, her eyes wide. "Yes, Oz," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She pressed her lips together, her body trembling with anticipation and excitement.

Oscar grinned, pleased with Y/n's compliance. He positioned himself between her legs, his hands gripping her thighs, lifting them up, opening her to him.

He leaned in, his tongue finding her center, licking her from bottom to top. Y/n let out a soft moan, her body jerking, her hands fisting the sheets beneath her.

Oscar looked up, his eyes meeting hers. "Remember our deal," he reminded her, his voice a low warning.

Y/n nodded, biting her lip to keep from making noise. Oscar smiled, his tongue delving into her depths, his fingers joining in, stretching her, preparing her for what was to come.

She struggled to remain silent, her moans building, her body writhing under Oscar's expert touch. She bit her lip, her nails digging into her palms, trying to keep quiet.

Oscar could sense her struggle, his tongue and fingers working in tandem, bringing her closer to the edge. Just as Y/n thought she couldn't take it anymore, Oscar stopped, his head lifting, his eyes meeting hers.

"Be quiet, Y/n," he warned, his voice stern. "Or else."

Y/N let out a shaky breath, her body still tingling from Oscar's touch. "I'm sorry" she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. She bit her lip, her eyes filled with determination. "I'll be good, I promise."

Oscar smiled, satisfied with Y/n's apology. He lowered his head, his tongue finding her clit, sucking it into his mouth, his fingers plunging into her depths.

Y/n let out a soft gasp, her body arching, her hands gripping the sheets tightly. She bit her lip, her eyes squeezed shut, determined to stay quiet.

Just as Oscar's fingers found that sweet spot inside Y/n, she let out a loud moan, her body convulsing. Oscar immediately stopped, looking up at her with a disapproving glare.

"Naughty girl," he chided, grabbing her panties. Before Y/n could react, he stuffed them into her mouth, gagging her. "There, that should keep you quiet."

Her eyes widened, surprise and humiliation flashing across her face. She mumbled something incoherent, her body squirming, trying to remove the makeshift gag.

Oscar held her thighs down, preventing her from moving. "Uh-uh, none of that," he scolded, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "You wanted to be fucked senseless, didn't you? Well, we can't have you screaming the house down, now can we?"

He leaned back in, his tongue resuming its assault on Y/n's pussy. "And I can't have you screaming my name," he murmured, his voice muffled. "Not with your parents due home anytime. Wouldn't want to ruin my good impression."

Despite the gag, Y/n's moans and whines continued to escape, filling the room. Oscar pulled away, his brow furrowing in disapproval.

"Enough," he said firmly, giving her pussy a sharp slap. Y/N jumped, her body jerking, her eyes widening in surprise and pain. She let out a muffled squeak, her body stilling.

Oscar looked up at Y/n, his expression serious. "If you want to cum tonight, you're going to need to be a good girl," he said, his voice firm. "No more noises, understand? You can nod if you do."

Y/n hesitated for a moment before nodding reluctantly, her eyes filled with determination. Oscar smiled, pleased with her compliance. "Good girl," he praised, before diving back in, his tongue and fingers working in tandem, bringing Y/n closer to the edge.

Oscar could feel Y/n's body tensing, her orgasm approaching. He slowed his movements, his tongue and fingers retreating just as she was about to tumble over the edge.

Y/n let out a frustrated moan, her body arching, seeking release. Oscar looked up at her, a wicked grin on his face. "Not yet, sweetheart," he said, his voice a low chuckle. "We've got all night, remember?"

Oscar lifted Y/n from the bed, positioning her over his lap. She let out a surprised yelp, her body tensing as she realized what was about to happen.

"Oscar, what are you doing?" she mumbled, her words muffled by the panties in her mouth.

Oscar removed the panties from Y/n's mouth, throwing them aside. "I'm giving you a chance to redeem yourself," he said, his voice stern. "I'm going to spank you, and you're going to count. If you get the number wrong or skip it, we start again from one. Understand?"

Y/N nodded, her body tense, her heart pounding in her chest. "Yes, Sir," she whispered, her voice filled with apprehension.

Oscar's eyes widened briefly at Y/n's use of 'Sir', but he chose not to comment on it. Instead, he simply smiled, his hand raised, coming down sharply on Y/N's ass.

"One," she gasped, her body jerking at the sudden impact. "Good girl," Oscar praised, his hand rising again.

"Two," Y/n counted, her voice steady despite the sting on her ass. Oscar continued, his hand falling in a rhythmic pattern, each smack echoing through the room.

"Three... Four... Five..." Y/n whimpers, her body tensing with each strike, her ass growing warm and red. Despite the pain, she felt a strange sensation building inside her, her body responding to the punishment.

"Six... Seven... Nine!" Y/n counted, her voice breathless. Suddenly, she realized her mistake, her eyes widening. "Wait, eight!" she corrected, her voice panicked.

Oscar tsked, shaking his head in disappointment. "Too late, sweetheart," he said, his voice firm. "You skipped eight. We start again from one."

Y/n's tears started to fall, her body trembling with frustration and unshed orgasms. After several failed attempts, Oscar paused, gently pulling on her hair, and forcing her to look at him.

"Hey, hey, look at me," he said softly, his voice filled with concern. "Is this too much, Y/n? Do you want me to stop?"

Y/n shook her head, her tear-filled eyes meeting Oscar's. "No, please don't stop," she begged, her voice hoarse. "I just... I just want to cum, Oscar. I'm sorry for disobeying you. Please, just let me cum."

Oscar smiled, leaning down to capture Y/n's lips in a tender kiss. When he pulled back, he cupped her cheek, his thumb wiping away her tears. "Okay, sweetheart," he said softly. "We'll do the spanking again. This time, I'll go slow, and I'll help you. Alright?"

She nodded, her body relaxing, her eyes filled with hope. "Yes, Oscar," she whispered.

Oscar positioned Y/n back over his lap, his hand gently caressing her now-reddened ass. "Ready?" he asked, his voice soft.

Y/n nodded, bracing herself. "Yes," she said, her voice steadier than before. "I'm ready."

Oscar landed a light spank on Y/n's ass, the sound echoing through the room. "One," he said, his voice calm and clear.

"One," Y/n repeated, her voice steady. She braced herself, ready for the next one.

Oscar spanked Y/n again and again, each spank growing harder than before. "Five," he counted, his voice firm.

Y/n winced, her body tensing at the increased intensity. "Five," she echoed, her voice slightly strained. She took a deep breath, trying to stay calm and focused.

Oscar brought his hand down hard on Y/n's ass one last time, the sound of the smack echoing loudly. "Ten," he said, his voice firm.

Y/n cried out, her body jerking, her ass stinging from the force of the blow. Tears sprang to her eyes, her body trembling. "Ten," she gasped, her voice barely audible.

Oscar pulled Y/n off his lap, setting her gently on the bed. He looked down at her, his eyes softening as he saw her tears. "See?" he said, his voice gentle. "It wasn't so hard to follow such simple instructions, was it?"

Y/n sniffled, wiping away her tears. She looked up at Oscar, her eyes filled with a mix of emotions. "No, Oscar," she admitted, her voice soft. "It wasn't." She took a deep breath, her body still tingling from the spanking. "What now?" she asked, her voice filled with anticipation.

Oscar smiled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Patience, sweetheart," he said, his voice low. "All in good timing."

He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between Y/n's legs. He wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking it slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.

Y/n watched, her breath hitching as Oscar's cock grew harder, longer. Then, without warning, he rubbed the tip against her clit, causing her to gasp

Oscar chuckled at Y/n's reaction, repeating the motion, rubbing his cock against her clit, teasing her. "Like that, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.

She nodded, her body arching, seeking more friction. "Yes, Oscar," she gasped, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. "Please, more."

Oscar continued to tease Y/n, his cock rubbing against her clit, his movements slow and deliberate. He could feel her body tensing, her orgasm approaching.

"Not yet, sweetheart," he said, his voice firm. He pulled back, denying her release once again.

Oscar looked down at Y/n, his eyes filled with amusement. "Remember, the only way you're cumming tonight is on my tongue, fingers, or cock," he said, his voice a low reminder. "So, which will it be, sweetheart?"

She looked up at Oscar, her eyes filled with desperation. "Your cock, Oscar," she begged, her voice hoarse. "Please, I need you inside me. I can't wait any longer."

Oscar smiled, positioning himself at Y/n's entrance. He looked down at her, his eyes filled with desire. "As you wish," he said, his voice low.

With one thrust, he slid his cock into Y/n's tight pussy, filling her completely. She let out a cry of pleasure, her body arching, her nails digging into his back.

Oscar began to move, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm. "Shh, sweetheart," he reminded Y/n, his voice firm. "Remember, be quiet or I'll have to use those panties again to shut you up."

He looked down at her hands, which were exploring his body. "And keep your hands to yourself, or I'll have to use my belt," he added, his voice a low warning.

Y/n's hands continued to roam, ignoring Oscar's warning. With a sigh, he pulled out of her, grabbing his belt from the floor. He flipped her onto her hands and knees, pushing her upper body down onto the bed.

"Arms behind your back," he ordered, his voice stern. Y/n complied, her arms crossing behind her. Oscar quickly tied her wrists together with his belt, securing them tightly.

Oscar looked down at Y/n, her ass in the air, her wrists bound behind her back. He ran a hand over her reddened cheeks, his voice a low murmur. "Maybe you like being used like this, hmm? Maybe that's why you're acting like such a little brat."

He gave her ass a sharp slap, causing her to jump. "Answer me, Y/n. Do you like being used like this?"

Y/n hesitated for a moment before admitting, "Yes, Oscar. I... I do like it. I like being used like this." Her voice was small, filled with shame. "I'm sorry for being a brat."

Oscar smiled, running a hand possessively over Y/n's ass. "Don't be sorry, sweetheart," he said, his voice low. "I like using you like this. And I think you deserve a reward for being honest."

He positioned himself at her entrance, his cock pressing against her. "How about I fuck you nice and hard, hmm? Would you like that?"

"Yes, please," Y/n breathed, her body tensing in anticipation. But before she could say anything else, Oscar stuffed her panties back into her mouth, gagging her.

"Then be a good girl, keep quiet and take my cock, okay?" he said, his voice firm. Without waiting for an answer, he slammed into her, filling her completely.

Y/n let out a muffled moan, her body arching as Oscar filled her. Her hands, tied behind her back, tried to grip the air, seeking something to hold onto as he began to move, his hips slamming into her with increasing force.

Oscar watched, a smirk playing on his lips as Y/n struggled to keep quiet, her body writhing beneath him. He reached around, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts.

Y/n's moans grew louder, her body tensing as her orgasm approached. Oscar could feel her pussy tightening around his cock, her body begging for release.

"Not yet, sweetheart," he growled, pinching her clit, denying her orgasm. "You know better than that."

She lets out a frustrated moan, her body bucking against Oscar's restraint. He grabbed her hips, holding her still, his cock continuing to pound into her.

"You're not in charge here, Y/n," he reminded her, his voice firm. "I am. And I say when you cum. Not a moment sooner."

Oscar's thrusts became harder, faster, the bed creaking beneath them. He could feel his own orgasm approaching, his body tensing.

"I'm gonna cum, Y/n," he grunted, his fingers finding her clit once again. "And I'm gonna cum with you. Understand?"

Y/n nodded, her body tensing in anticipation. Oscar began to rub her clit in earnest, his cock slamming into her, their bodies moving in perfect sync.

With a final thrust, Oscar came, his cock pulsing inside Y/n. She followed soon after, her body convulsing, her pussy contracting around him. As she did, she squirted a little, the liquid going unnoticed by Oscar, who was lost in his own pleasure.

Oscar pulled out of Y/n, flipping her onto her back. He looked down at her, a satisfied smile on his face. "Mmm, looks like I made a mess," he said, his voice low.

He knelt on the floor, pulling her to the edge of the bed. He kissed her thighs, his tongue licking up his cum, cleaning her up. "I always clean up my mess, sweetheart," he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers.

Oscar continued to lick and kiss Y/n's thighs, his tongue moving lower and lower until he reached her pussy. He looked up at her, a wicked grin on his face before burying his face between her legs, his tongue delving into her folds.

Her cum and his mixed on his tongue, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the taste, his tongue lapping up every drop.

Y/n let out muffled moans, her body writhing as Oscar's tongue worked its magic. He looked up at her, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched her react to his touch.

"Does that feel good, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice muffled by her pussy. She nodded, her eyes filled with pleasure. Oscar smiled, his tongue continuing its assault

"Mmm-hmm," Y/n mumbled, her hips bucking against Oscar's face, seeking more friction. "Yes, fuck," she managed to say around the panties in her mouth. "Feels so good."

Oscar chuckled, his hands spreading Y/n's thighs wider, giving him better access. "I'm glad you like it, sweetheart," he said, his voice low. "Now, be a good girl and come for me one more time, hmm?" His tongue found her clit, sucking it into his mouth.

Her body tensed, her orgasm washing over her. She let out a muffled scream, her hips grinding against Oscar's face as she came, her juices flowing onto his tongue. He lapped it up, his tongue continuing to work her clit, drawing out her pleasure.

Oscar stood up, pulling the panties from Y/n's mouth. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss, allowing her to taste herself on his tongue.

She struggled against the belt binding her wrists, letting out a frustrated groan. Oscar gently flipped her onto her stomach, unbuckling the belt and freeing her wrists.

Y/n moved her wrists, rubbing them to restore circulation. She turned to face Oscar, reaching up to kiss him. He was slightly taken aback, but recovered quickly, kissing her back with equal fervor, his hands tangling in her hair.

Oscar pulled back, a smirk playing on his lips. "Someone's needy," he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Can't get enough of me, can you?"

Y/n nodded, her eyes still glassy from her earlier tears. She straddled Oscar, her hands resting on his chest. "I can't help it," she admitted, her voice soft. "You make me feel things I've never felt before."

Oscar smiled, his hands pulling Y/n closer, his lips capturing hers in another searing kiss. Abruptly, he broke away, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Sit on my face, sweetheart," he ordered, his voice low. "Let's see if I can make you feel even more."

Y/n hesitated for a moment, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. But at the sight of Oscar's eager expression, she climbed up his body, straddling his face, her pussy hovering above his mouth.

Y/N sank down onto Oscar's face, his nose brushing against her clit. He gripped her thighs, pushing her down, holding her in place as his tongue delved into her pussy, licking and sucking, devouring her.

"Oh god, Oz," Y/N moaned, her body writhing. "Calm down, you might not be able to breathe like that." But her words were half-hearted, her body already chasing another orgasm.

Oscar chuckled, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through Y/n. "I can handle it, sweetheart," he muttered, his tongue continuing its relentless assault. "Now, ride my face like a good girl."

Y/n obeyed, her hips moving in rhythm with Oscar's tongue, her moans growing louder, her body tensing as another orgasm approached. "Oz, I'm gonna cum," she warned, her voice breathless.

Oscar growled, his hands gripping her thighs tighter, pushing her down harder onto his face. "Cum for me, sweetheart," he demanded, his tongue flicking against her clit. "Cum all over my face."

"Oz, please," Y/n whimpered, her body twitching with each swipe of his tongue. "It's too much. I can't take anymore." But Oscar ignored her pleas, his tongue continuing its relentless assault.

Finally, Y/n couldn't take anymore. She collapsed forward, her body spent, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Oscar chuckled, his hands gentling on her thighs, his tongue slowing, bringing her down from her high.

"We're not done yet, sweetheart," Oscar said, a wicked glint in his eye. Before she could respond, he lifted her, placing her in front of him, her legs spread wide, facing the mirror on her wall. "Watch, Y/n," he commanded, his cock pressing against her entrance. "Watch us."

Oscar's fingers found Y/n's clit, circling it, teasing it. Every now and then, he'd dip his fingers into her pussy, just enough to make her gasp, before retreating, leaving her wanting more. All while she watched their reflection in the mirror.

Y/n looked away, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. But Oscar wasn't having it. He grabbed her chin, turning her face towards the mirror. "Eyes on us, Y/n," he ordered his voice firm. "Watch what I do to you."

She hesitantly met her own gaze in the mirror, watching as Oscar's fingers continued to tease her. She could see the flush on her cheeks, the dilation of her pupils, and the way her body responded to his touch.

Oscar smiled, pressing kisses along Y/n's neck, feeling her shiver in response. "Good girl," he whispered, his fingers never stopping their movement. "You look so beautiful like this, all flushed and needy."

Y/n let out a moan as she felt Oscar's cock slide into her, inch by inch. She watched in the mirror as her body stretched to accommodate him, her eyes fluttering closed briefly before snapping open again, following Oscar's orders.

"Do you see that, baby?" Oscar asked, his voice low. "See how you take my cock so well? Like you were made for it."

Y/n moaned, her legs shaking as she slowly bounced on Oscar's cock. His fingers found her clit, rubbing in time with her movements, making her moan even louder. She could feel his cum from earlier leaking out of her, adding to the sensation.

"Fuck, baby," Oscar groaned, his fingers tightening on her hips, guiding her movements. "You feel so good. Ride my cock, baby. Make yourself cum again."

She whimpered, her body struggling to keep up. Her legs were weak, her muscles protesting, but she pushed through, her body chasing another orgasm. She could feel it building, her breath coming in short gasps, her vision starting to blur.

Oscar's fingers pressed firmly against Y/n's clit, pushing her over the edge. She screamed, her body convulsing, her pussy contracting around Oscar's cock, squirting her release. He groaned, his cock pulsing inside her, filling her with his cum once again.

Oscar kept thrusting, drawing out Y/n's orgasm, making her squirt again and again. The bed beneath them grew wet, the sound of their bodies slapping together filling the room. Y/N's screams echoed off the walls, her body completely at Oscar's mercy.

Their orgasms finally subsided, both of them breathing heavily. Oscar rested his head on her shoulder, his body still shuddering with aftershocks. "Fuck, Y/n," he panted. "That was..." he trailed off, unable to find the words.

"That was amazing," Y/n breathed, her body still trembling. Oscar laughed, lifting his head to look at her. "It really was," he agreed. "I didn't know you could squirt, sweetheart."

Y/n chuckled, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "Neither did I," she admitted. "Guess we learned something new today."

The sound of the front gate opening had both of them freezing. They sat up straight, panic setting in. "Shit, my parents," Y/N whispered, her eyes wide. "And mine too," Oscar added, quickly pulling out of her and grabbing his clothes.

She let out a hiss of pain as Oscar pulled out, her body still sensitive and sore from their activities. She quickly started gathering her own clothes, her heart pounding in her chest.

Oscar rushed to get dressed, throwing Y/n's clothes to her. "Here, put these on," he urged, helping her into a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top. "We need to clean up this room before your parents get here."

"No, I'll clean up," Oscar insisted, grabbing a towel and starting to wipe down the bed. "You go downstairs and stall them. Tell them I'm not feeling well and I went to lie down."

Y/n nodded, her steps wobbling as she made her way to the door. "Be quick, Oz," she whispered before closing the door behind her and heading downstairs.

Y/n

I quickly run down the stairs, my feet quiet on the wooden steps. My heart is still thrumming in my chest from the rush of it all, the near miss having sent a burst of adrenaline through me.

I reach the bottom of the stairs, my breath still coming a bit fast from the speed at which I came down. The realization that my parents and his parents could have caught us is still fresh in my mind, adding a bit of a thrill to the whole situation.

The sound of the front door opening catches my attention, and I freeze at the bottom of the stairs when I see who it is. My parents, my brother, Oscar's parents, and his sister. They're all chatting and laughing, the effects of alcohol present on everyone's faces except Gabriel's (who is half asleep).

I stand there, my heart rate picking up, my mind still racing as I try to process the unexpected arrival.

The sight of all our family members together is a bit overwhelming, especially given the state and Oscar and I are currently in. I take a deep breath, hoping that the flush on my skin in the aftermath of our earlier activities is not too obvious.

May, being the most sober of the group, immediately notices my disheveled state and smirks to herself, clearly aware of the situation. The rest of the group, still a bit drunk, remain oblivious to the obvious clues, chatting and laughing amongst themselves, completely oblivious to our predicament upstairs.

My dad, seeing me at the foot of the stairs, looks surprised. He notices my flushed skin and the slight sheen of sweat on my forehead, and can't help but ask, "Why are you so sweaty?"

Caught off guard by my dad's question, quickly makes up an excuse. She pauses for a moment, my mind racing for a convincing reason why I'd be so sweaty.

"Oh," I finally manage to say, "I was, uh, cleaning my room. I just finished."

The lie sounds weak even to my own ears, but thankfully the group seems to buy it, or at least not question it further. My dad just nods, still looking at her with a hint of curiosity, while the rest of the group continue their loud conversation, oblivious to the lie.

Y/n trails behind the group, her mind still a bit frazzled from the close call. She keeps her distance a bit, not wanting to call attention to her flushed skin or disheveled state. The sounds of laughter and chatter fill the air, and everyone is in high spirits.

Once everybody else has gone to their rooms, Y/n finally relaxes a little. She takes a moment to steady herself, taking a deep breath to calm her still-racing heart. Then, she approaches her bedroom door and knocks, signaling to Oscar that everything is clear.

Y/n enters the room, finding Oscar already inside, changing the sheets. The sight of him making the bed, his muscular back and broad shoulders moving under his shirt, sends a small flutter of desire through her.

Y/n gives Oscar a small smile, her eyes tracing over his form for a moment before she speaks. "The coast is clear," she says, her voice a bit softer than usual. "You can go back to your room and change now."

Oscar nods and continues changing the sheets, his focus on the task at hand. A few moments later, he finishes and stands up, giving Y/n a quick smile before leaving the room and making his way back towards his own room.

He walks over to the bed and lays down beside Y/n, the mattress shifting slightly under his weight. He turns towards her, looking at her tired face, a small smile on his lips. He reaches for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers, a silent reassurance.

Oscar, seeing the exhaustion on her face, looks at her tenderly and asks, "Are you sleepy?" His voice is soft and soothing, a direct contrast to the earlier heat and passion.

As she turns to face him, her hands immediately find their way under his shirt, her slender fingers brushing against his skin. The simple touch is enough to make him shiver slightly, his body reacting to her instinctively. He looks at her, his gaze full of tenderness and desire.

Y/n's hands run over his skin, her touch lingering on his chest, seeking the warmth of his body. She cuddles a little closer, her body curving against his. "You're warm," she murmurs sleepily, her voice a bit muffled against his shoulder.

Oscar chuckles softly, amused by her sleepy murmurs. He runs a hand through her hair, gently soothing her. "Go to sleep now," he whispers, his voice a gentle command.

Y/n nods, her eyelids already feeling heavy. She snuggles closer to his chest, her body instinctively seeking his warmth and comfort. Her breathing slowly evens out as she begins to drift off, her mind succumbing to the exhaustion and the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat.

As Y/n drifts off to sleep, Oscar watches her for a moment, a tender smile on his face. Carefully, he reaches for the end of the blanket and tugs it up over her body, tucking her in snugly. He lays there next to her, the silence of the night broken only by the soft sound of her breathing.

oscarpiastrii

liked by may.piastri, hattie_pia, ediepastry and 814 others oscarpiastrii She's my girl (Some of the pics are from Y/n 😂) tagged yn.jpg

yn.jpg you sap ↳ oscarpiastrii I love you too

hattie_pia wow. okay.

ediepastry my little boy is all grown up ↳ oscarpiastrii I'm older than you...?

may.piastri hattie_pia wheres my 5 bucks ↳ hattie_pia stfu im omw to ur room ↳ oscarpiastrii What do you mean 5 bucks. ↳ may.piastri oh we made a bet if you'd actually become y/ns bf (especially after you wouldn't stop talking abt her otw home when they were in Australia) ↳ yn.jpg OH???? ↳ oscarpiastrii may.piastri Delete your account.

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[gremlingottoosilly]

Idol! Reader who manages to go out on her own one night because she wants to know what it's like to be normal. She meets Konig who pretends to be nice and normal for her, which causes her to get drunk around him and confess that she dosent really like being so famous. So he decides he's doing her a favour by taking her with him when she passes out and keeping her locked in his room (The room covered in her merchandise and posters of her, even his bedsheets have her face on.)

Having fans is cool and all. If you want all that attention, that is. You just liked to sing and dance. One thing led to another, and you find yourself on the biggest stage in the city, singing for people who couldn't care less about the quality of your moves or the pitch of your voice. They needed your face, your body, the idea of you in a group of copy-and-paste cute girls who all wanted to be famous. You aren't the most popular in your group by any means, but you have your fair share of fans and have sold merchandise. The mere thought of someone wearing your face on their bags or having your name on their fan albums made you uneasy. Cost of fame, you think. Which is why you sort of vented to this one random guy at the coffee shop you run to. You just needed a break - from cameras, from management, from your own group members. You wanted to be a nobody for once, and so you ditched your usual makeup and hairstyle, instead opting for a plain hoodie and a cap to hide your features as much as possible. Mask, too - which is kinda the reason you even noticed the guy sitting at the same coffee shop as you. Huge, bulky, also wearing a mask. You got curious. He certainly isn't an idol, too huge and bulky to be from one of the mainstream groups, but you think he could be an action actor. You'd kill to see a dorama with him as the main character. The guy is nice, has a German accent, and just the right amount of awkwardness. It's not exactly creepy, but it's off-putting and weird a bit. You like that - makes him easier to vent into. He listens and listens and only puts his huge hand on your shoulder, squeezing just a bit. Asking how you're feeling and if you really want to be an idol. You told him - you just wanted an out, a way to become a normal person and not a slave of the label. Konig decided to grant your wish. You're not performing anymore - only for him, sometimes, when you take pity at his loser expression and just want him to stop being so clingy. He never touches you while you perform, and he always lets you go through whole dance and song routine before putting his hands on you again - so you started singing much more, taking pride in the way you went solo. If it only weren't for your stalker...but it's not like you even have that many options right now - you have to be his pretty singing bird if you really want to be safe. It's...not at all bad. You convinced him to take down the most embarrassing pieces of your merch he collected. You had to fuck him in exchange - convincing him that the real thing is much better than some dumb posters and unflattering angles on the photo cards. It's not all bad; you keep telling yourself this, so you won't go crazy every time he drags you out to sleep in his bedroom or proclaims his eternal love and adoration with his mouth between your legs. You never wanted this sort of fan worshipping, but it isn't like you can do anything about it, anyway. Maybe you just have to learn how to relax and take the life as it goes.

[star-girl69]

She Calls Me Baby

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader

—-

synopsis: college au, in which you slowly realize something is wrong with your girlfriend.

a/n: love this song. had to do it sorry. anyways this sucks actual BALLS but idc i just have to write something or else i will lose my empire and title as mother of clarisse tumblr ☹️

Jackie and Wilson - Hozier

warnings: NOT BETA READ, im sure this is so discombobulated but IDC!!!!!! anyways, swearing, mentions of death and the usual demigod stuff, mentions of monsters, idk pretty chill…, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Your favorite story Clarisse ever told you is the one about soulmates.

She told it to you in the dark, in her bed, hand on the side of your face as she whispered to you like you were secret lovers.

She told you that humans once had two heads and four arms, but Zeus thought they would grow to be too powerful and split them apart. Hearts split in two, detained to roam the earth, trying to find each other.

That’s how it feels with Clarisse- like you’ve known her for years, like your bodies were born of the same speck of dust, souls grew next to each other, fires inside of you burning in the same altar for a hundred years before you met.

Clarisse approached you fast- hard and unrelenting like a hurricane. She wanted whatever she could take from you, love, comfort, a one-night.

It scared her when you wanted to give.

It was kind of crazy how easily the two of you just fit together, crazy how you both liked some things, both hated things, hated something things she liked and nice versa. It was like there was this natural balance between you, everything sort of cosmically weighed out- and it just felt so right to be with her that everything else faded away.

But it was clear that Clarisse fell head over heels for you, the way she would smile and just tell you that you were so different, so much better than her. You were everything she wasn’t, and she resented you so much for it she loved you.

You weren’t exactly sure why Clarisse loved you so much- maybe it was the way you respect her past, maybe it was the way you didn’t push- you just accepted the crazy and tried your best to save her with what little information you did have. It surprised her and you when you became the one to get greedy, to take from her, but you knew she loved the feeling of being wanted.

But lately, Clarisse has been particularly… off. It’s not exam season, so you can’t chalk it up to that. And she’s the most talented player on the field hockey team, you’ve seen her play- she’s overconfident and for good reason. She has no reason to be stressed there, unless somethings changed.

But something tells you it’s not that.

The first real concrete clue you ever got was when you first met her.

The library is where you met Clarisse. The one closest to your dorm hall, the one that’s two floors and built like an out-of-place Greek temple- it always makes you smile when Clarisse gives it a dirty look, trying to persuade you to go to any other library. It doesn’t make sense to you- why go to the one all the way across campus when this one is only a five minute walk?

She always seems on edge when she meets you in here, but she bites it back and won’t tell you no matter how much you ask. She says it’s just a weird thing she has, hard to explain, so you let it go when she clearly doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she smiles, pulling out the chair next to you. She glances around the library, not nervously, but observant. Ready, waiting. She’s always been able to do that- scan an entire room in seconds and find out everything.

“Hi,” you smile, stretching as you push your books away from you, grateful for the distraction her brown eyes and sweet voice provide.

She picks up a textbook you’ve pushed off to the side. She scoffs at the title, mumbling about how she still doesn’t know why you would choose the major you did.

“How was practice?” you ask, choosing to ignore her remarks in favor of soaking up her attention and the much needed distraction.

“Boring,” she hums, rubbing her foot up and down your leg, head in her hands. “Freshmen are pissin’ me off, they don’t know shit. Coach has to teach them all the basics over again.”

You lay your head on a thick textbook, staring up at her. “The freshmen are always shitty. Then you love them by the end of the year.”

“I don’t,” she huffs, but some of her favorite members of the team are the freshmen she hated her sophomore year. “Whatever. It’s different, they all suck. Shouldn’t be here.”

“Sure,” you say, yawning again.

“Okay, did you not sleep last night?” she chuckles.

You shrug sheepishly, Clarisse is always so adamant you sleep and eat enough, but sometimes you have to sacrifice the little things for your grades.

“I had a test this morning, stayed up a little later cramming.”

“Uh-huh, so, like, until 1 in the morning? Worse?”

You hold your breath, sitting up as you conveniently look away from her. “3,” you exhale.

She smiles and puts a piece of hair behind your ear.

“But,” you smile, sensing the lecture. “After these five questions, I can be all yours for the rest of the day.”

She pretends to weigh her options.

“Well, I do like the sound of that.”

—-

The second clue is the way she always seems like she’s running away from something.

Your rooms are blessedly only a few doors down from each other, so someone is always sneaking into someone else’s and your roommates have both learned to deal with it.

Silena, Clarisse’s roommate, only greets you with a smile as you sheepishly slip past her in the mornings- Clarisse’s shirt haphazardly slipped over you.

So, on this day, you’re slumped in bed while Clarisse promises to take care of you, and you’re all too happy to let her.

She’s already spent the last hour lying with you in bed, letting you sleep on top of her- forcing you to catch up on some much needed hours of rest with her soft voice in your ear and hand trailing up your back.

She only got up when you mentioned you were hungry, immediately suggesting the idea of ordering from your favorite restaurant, refusing to be swayed by you back into your warm bed.

So, here you were, scrolling on your phone while you waited for the click of the door and the smell of hot food. And it comes, you prepare to make some quip about how dare she leaves you for almost a half hour.

Her keys jangle in her hands as she quickly shuts the door, turning around and pressing her back against it. She breathes out, heavily, before her eyes meet yours and she studies the shocked and confused look on your face.

“Ran up the stairs,” she smiles, leaving her keys and wallet on top of your dresser, dropping the bag of food on your bed before she goes to the window, peeking out of it. “Didn’t want my princess waiting for too long,” she chuckles.

You don’t even look at the bag of food in front of you. You reach out and grab her hand, and she flinches, but pulls away from the window and into your touch.

“Clarisse,” you breathe, and panic flashes in her eyes as she quickly rips open the bag.

“C’mon, don’t let it get cold.”

“Clar… baby,”

“Wanna watch a movie? Or play a game? Anything you want, sweetheart, jus’ say the word.”

—-

The third clue is the fact that you’re 99% sure she’s seeing things.

It sounds horrible to say, and sometimes late at night when she’s asleep against you, you wonder what the hell you’re supposed to do. You’ve only met her mom a few times, never met her father- Silena and her have been friends for years, but you still feel like it all falls to you.

It doesn’t, legally, maybe not even morally- but she’s your girlfriend. You should know what she wants, you should be able to advocate for her when she can’t.

So, the best thing you can think to do it ignore it. You pretend it doesn’t concern you, you pretend you don’t see it, you pretend because you can’t even think about the idea of her not being her, of her being away from you.

You focus on the moment.

You love these walks with Clarisse, her hand warm in yours. It was moments like these where you felt like Clarisse was your sun. Yes, the setting sun was warm against your back, but nothing made you feel alive like Clarisse did. Your hands swing together, hitting your hip, and she seamlessly switches from your hand to wrapping at arm around your waist.

You smile at her, cheeks hot. You go to adjust your bag as a means of distracting yourself, but your hand awkwardly ends up floating in the air when you realize Clarisse took your bag when she picked you up from your last class.

As if sensing the awkwardness, she hikes the tote bag farther up her shoulder.

“What’re your plans today, pretty girl?”

You hum, feeling so at ease with the way she calls you that pet name, with the way she squeezes you closer to her.

“Well, I finished my big project yesterday, don’t really have anything else to do, so I was just gonna chill. What ‘bout you?”

“Ugh,” she groans. “I have practice until 8. But I’ll come over after? And spend the night?”

You smile, laughing softly.

“I don’t know why you even ask anymore.”

“It’s polite,” she smiles. “I’m a very polite person, only when it comes to you.”

“I’ll see you at 8:15, huh?”

“Obviously,” she huffs, kissing your temple. Again, you feel like cheeks heat like this is the first day you met her. It’s embarrassing to be affected by her so much, but it’s also so sweet. Only she can draw out these reactions from you, this potent all these months later. It still feels like the first day with her sometimes, but you also feel like you’ve known her for years.

She bites her lip and hisses a curse word under her breath.

“What?” you ask, snapped out of the way she holds you so perfectly, following her eye line. She stares firmly in between two cars, but there’s nothing there.

“Nothing,” she says, not taking her eyes away from that spot- not even blinking, you realize after a second. She hides the way she gets, that unrelenting focus like when she’s playing in a game, with a laugh.

“Thought I saw that bitch from my 11am.” You look at her. You don’t believe her. She knows you don’t. And it breaks your heart that something is clearly happening, and you can’t force yourself to feel bad for ignoring it, and you can’t force her to tell you. “C’mon, let’s go.”

She moves to hold your hand and drags you off forcefully toward the direction of the entrance. She squints, almost like she’s driving off something with her mind.

“Clarisse,” you mumble, squeezing her hand, feeling unsettled just by the way she’s so clearly ready for a fight. It’s like she can see something you can’t.

She risks a small glance at you, a normal looking smile.

“It’s all good, baby. I’ve got you,” she smiles, reaching back like she’s stretching, but something where there’s nothing glints in the sunlight.

—-

The fourth clue is the fight with Silena.

She asked you to meet her at her dorm, wear something nice and pretty, and you’ll go out for a nice dinner and some ice cream. She’s been so busy with practice lately, it makes your entire body squeeze the way she jumps to spend time with you at the first off day she gets.

You smooth down your pretty top, the one you know you look good in, the one you know she likes. You’re about to knock on the door when you realize it’s been left open, just a crack. That’s when their voices rise, enough so you can hear them.

“It different now, Clar!”

“It’s. Not. It’s not different, it will never be different, nothing will ever change.”

“Before, Clarisse, when you told me you had this crush on the girl in your econ class, I didn’t think anything of it. I didn’t care. But, Gods, Clarisse, anyone can see it’s different. She’s not just some girl, she’s your girl, your girlfriend, and you’re totally in love with her.”

“I know that,” she huffs. “I’m the one who’s actually in love with her. I love her, and I know her. I know what’s best for her.”

“And she’s in love with you too, Clarisse.”

She laughs. “I would hope so.”

“It’s different, Clarisse. It’s been different for a while, and I didn’t say anything because I thought you would notice. But you haven’t.”

“Fuck, Silena, please. Please, just stop. I’m not puttin’ her through that. I’m not putting myself through that again. I’m not that girl anymore. I am not my father’s daughter.”

“It never goes away, Clar.”

Silena’s voice is quiet, hesitant. Clarisse has confessed to you her struggles with her emotions all her life, particularly anger. Half the reason her mother sent her to that camp she always talks about was because she had such bad anger issues. But she worked through them, and you know she’s different now, she has healthy outlets and ways to cope.

But still, Silena seems scared.

“Shut the fuck up.”

You hear her walking towards you and quickly step back, smoothing your face out into a blank slate, tempted to hit yourself in the head to forget what you just heard.

The door swings open, and she smiles immediately when she sees you.

“Y/N,” she says, sticking her keys into her pocket. You force yourself to do your best smile. “Oh, baby, you look so pretty.”

“Thank you,” you smile, letting her wrap her arms around you, letting her press a soft kiss against your lips.

—-

Clarisse made you laugh all night, made you smile, made you wonder how you ever got this far in life without her. She paid for your dinner and ushered you out of the restaurant, chuckling about how you drove her crazy and she just wanted you now-

Until she walked you to your car, opened the passenger door for you- suddenly shoving you inside and pushing the door softly closed, as much as she could get it with your foot still hanging out.

“Clarisse!” you shout, but she’s already appeared in the driver’s seat next to you, ushering you inside, reaching over and shutting the car door. She locks them with a satisfying click, finally letting her shoulder’s sink down. “What the fuck?” you huff.

“Sorry,” she smiles, hands squeezing the steering wheel. “It was the weirdest thing, a squirrel ran right over my foot, I got so freaked out…” she smiles, forces a laugh, but you only look at her unimpressed.

“Clarisse,” you sigh, letting your hands fall to your sides in defeat. “What’s going on? Please?”

She opens her mouth, then closes it.

“Just let me drive home,” she had said, and now you’re home, leading her into your dorm and she presses her back against the door.

You put your hands on her shoulders and she puts hers on your hips, she can’t look at you and you do your best to meet her eyes.

“Clarisse,” you say, a silent beg that all your suspicions are wrong, and everything and fine and she still loves you, she’s still your girlfriend.

“I’m not ready to tell you,” she rushes out. Her fingertips dig into your skin. “I’m not ready, okay? I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

“T-that’s okay,” you say after a moment. “It’s okay. I just… you can tell me, when you’re ready. I’m just scared, I don’t know why this is happening, you’re being so different-”

She hugs you and puts her face into your neck.

“Please, Y/N,” she breathes, shaky breath tickling your neck. “I love you so much. I love you more than anything, just let that be enough, please.”

You hugs you quick and hard, and you’re so shocked by it that you almost take a step back. But you can’t, really, not with her arms so tight, so right around you. And once you realize it’s just your Clarisse, you coo softly and put your hand in her hair, the other around her shoulders.

“Of course it’s enough, baby. Of course, I just want you to know that I’m here… I’m here…”

You run your hand through her hair and she exhales.

“I know, I know it’s not perfect, but you’re all I have. You’re all I have, Y/N, just be here with me, please.”

“I will,” you breathe. “I will.”

Your mind is swirling with more questions than answers, but Clarisse asks you to call her baby again and leads you to your bed. And you do, you call her baby and tell her you love her.

And the realization comes slowly, but once it comes it feels so right.

You don’t know what’s going on with Clarisse. All you have are incoherent clues strung together, but you realize you don’t care. You love Clarisse more than you’re scared of a little crazy.

And you tell her that as she lays on top of you, and she simply takes her face out of your neck, the faintest hint of tears welling in her eyes.

“I love you crazy, baby,” you murmur.

She smiles, and you feel like you’re being sucked into the eye of a hurricane.

She lets out a soft breath, like she was scared, so scared- and you’re not sure she’s ever been scared before. But she’s scared of losing you. She’s scared of losing you, and that makes you giddy like a schoolgirl. That makes you love her even more.

“I’m a lot of crazy,” she says, and you can’t tell if she’s joking, but you laugh. You laugh like a hyena, because you love her more than you love yourself.

You want to be the harbor she comes back to each night, you want to be the pillow where she rests her head. You want to be a vault for her secrets and her love. You want to be everything for her and you want to be everything to her.

You don’t believe in Greek myths, but maybe that one about soulmates was right.

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1

[avocado-writing]

hi! i was just wondering if you could write some headcannons for astarion, gale, halsin, karlach, and shadowheart about what they are like when you're pregnant/them as parents to a baby

So cute! I love wholesome family requests like these!

Astarion

When you're pregnant: he tries not to be too fussy, but let's be realistic, he likes to cluck about and make sure you're okay. He gets a bit overbearing actually. "Should you be doing that if you're pregnant?" sort of thing, you have to wave him off a couple of times. When you're asleep you hear him whispering to the baby bump about how he's going to protect them, make sure nobody would ever hurt them. (Also when you're in your third trimester the two of you like to pretend that you've gone into labour to get out of social situations you don't want to be in. He's all, "we have to GO my PARTNER is giving birth RIGHT NOW" then when you're far enough away you burst into laughter)

When you've given birth: as an elf, he only needs four hours to trance a night, so he's often holding the baby when you're awake. Speaks in whole sentences, he has no time for baby talk. "babababa..." "Mm, yes darling, I'm just worried this fabric is too sheer for that particular design." Catch him watching you cradling the baby looking utterly smitten from the doorway. He's happier than he ever believed he could ever be.

Gale

When you're pregnant: constantly reading up about magic to make things easier, whether it's to ease back pain or make the delivery more comfortable. Likes to stay up late discussing baby names with you, Tara resting on your lap and cuddling happily into your belly. Also armed with facts about the growing baby is during each month of your pregnancy, lmfao.

When you've given birth: wants to be there for every milestone possible, so takes lots of paternal leave from his teaching job. Baby's first word is 'dada' and he goes crazy for it, he's so so happy. Casts little, harmless spells which make the baby giggle - summoning Dancing Lights above their head to soothe them to sleep in their crib. As the baby drifts off you can often hear him whispering that "the two of you have made my life complete."

Halsin

When you're pregnant: knows all of the natural teas he can brew to help you relax. Always offering backrubs. Talks to the bump a lot, falls asleep with you as his little spoon so he can have his hand on your belly, keep you both safe as you slumber. Waxes poetic about what your baby might look like, whose eyes it will have, whose hair. If it will take to druidic magic or something more scholarly? All he knows is that he can't wait to meet them.

When you've given birth: the baby is usually in a papoose around his chest (when you're not holding them!) He's totally caught up in how lovely they are, how the two of you made something so wonderful. When they get a little older he is a big fan of letting them ride on his shoulders, encouraging them to run their hands through leaves on the boughs of trees and answering every endless question they can think to ask.

Karlach

When you're pregnant: constantly offering to carry things for you so that you don't strain yourself. Talks to the bump all the time. "Come on, kiddo! Mama can't wait to meet you!" Loves to have her hand on your belly and gets so excited when she feels a kick! "We've got a little fighter in there, I reckon!" Every so often asks if you really think she'll be a good mum, a little bit of anxiety creeping in - but you reassure her she'll be just wonderful.

When you've given birth: always standing over the crib to look at the baby, she just seems to happy when they're peacefully asleep. Likes to hum little made-up songs to them when they're settling down for the night. If the baby starts fussing for no reason, she picks them up and bounces them around until they're both giggling wildly. She is most happy when she has you in one arm and the baby in the other 💕

Shadowheart

When you're pregnant: does a lot of healing magic to help you with your aches and pains which helps a lot. She gets super into pregnancy books and is constantly offering you suggestions for how to make things a little easier - maybe because she feels guilty that you're the pregnant one. Offers up lots of soft prayers to her goddess for a happy family and your good health. The two of you bicker good-naturedly about names but do eventually settle on one you both like - maybe after one of her parents.

When you've given birth: constantly checking in that you're alright and happy as a new parent, because she is. Always makes sure there's a bunch of night orchids in the nursery. When the baby gets a bit older and is scared of the dark, she makes sure to teach them the Light cantrip so that they always have a nightlight if they need. And she teaches them to swim, just like you taught her all those years ago.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget (lmk if you want to be added)

[nattheother]

over the counter and back ✧ jww

tags fluff, meet cute, izakaya!au / midnight diner!au, slight misunderstanding, few swear words, self indulgence (surprising), love me a sopping wet pathetic yn

wc 2.7k words

note that men’s nonno izakaya shoot with dk… yeah... *faints* the hirotaka allegations aint helping either [pic cr. jwwfile on twt]

note i was gonna put an alcohol on the tags but its an izakaya au, u know what ur getting into so :3

crossposted to AO3

—

It wasn’t the weekdays or the rush hour, it’s just the izakaya usually is not that packed. Only two couples on the tables and a woman tonight, who seemed to get off work quite late, sitting at the bar area, seemingly laid back on her phone over her unfinished beer. Old jazzy songs from your boss’ playlist softly filled the bar, warming up the mood.

Your head chef, well, your boss, Kouji, just bid you a farewell. The izakaya just opened about two hours ago this evening, but he had to clock early for his daughter in labour. She usually works part-time here alongside you until about a month ago, which is why you tried to fill her shift until she comes back. Not that you mind.

You wished him good luck before he tackled you into a light hug, resulting in a small “oof!” out of you.

Honestly, handling the diner on a slow day alone doesn’t really worry you. It’s always just the three or two of you. Kouji said the neighborhood was particularly safe, “also it’s a small bar afterall,” he adds.

As you came back from the kitchen after finishing the woman’s check, a new customer came in behind the bar island this time. Young man probably what describes him more. Looks about around his mid 20s, pretty thick rimmed glasses. You’re not sure if it’s his shoulder who’s wide or his button-ups were just oversized, but does he look lean. 

“Welcome! Anything for your order tonight?”

He sits on the barstool at the centre by himself. He adjusts his glasses as he glances around unsure, “yeah, um… just gyudon and draft beer, please,”

You walked around getting the tall glass to pour one from the beer machine. “Sorry, can I ask something?” he promptly starts.

”Yeah?”

”Where is Kouji-san?”

Looking up from the filled glass, you serve the beer on the counter, “Sensei? His daughter’s in labour tonight. I’m in charge for tonight,”

“Only you?” you smiled at his question and nodded, “‘Seems you know Sensei. You’re a regular?”

He took off his watch and chuckled, “Sort of? I do stop by pretty frequently but I’ve kinda never seen you,” he reasoned as he folded up his sleeves.

You laughed softly in the middle of wiping off the beer faucet, pointing to the back with your thumb, “I’m usually in the kitchen.” You put the rag into your apron, “So ring the bell or call up if you need anything.”

You felt the banter was enough as you turned your heels back to the kitchen because you had to make his gyudon, “Wait,” but his calling stopped you in your step. You turned around to him taking a sip of his beer.

“I haven’t gotten your name.”

“If it isn’t Wonwoo!”

Who?

Kouji’s whoop was muffled behind the kitchen curtain. You tried to calmly finish plating up the dish for a current customer so you can quickly move on to this acquaintance of Kouji. Putting his order is for later, so you swiftly deliver the tray full of bowls to the also full table at the back first.

You came back with another tray of empty dishes as you can finally see your next customer.

Oh, right… I forgot to ask his name.

He smiled at you as you confidently welcomed him, mirroring his smile.

In the middle of putting away the dirty dishes, Kouji came into the kitchen with a question, “Wonwoo said he knows you? You’ve never told me!”

You looked back at him in a slight surprise and a chuckle, “Not really, actually, we met around last week I think? You clocked off early.”

What you remembered from that day was after Wonwoo asked your name, customers piling up in a short time right after you served his food. That resulted in you spending most of your time in the kitchen and finished his check a little quickly because the other was also queuing behind him.

“Go take his order. A group just came in just now and I’m taking theirs,” Kouji ordered.

“What?? Why not you earlier, Sensei?” you whined.

After your half-playful complaint of not taking his order, you wipe off your hand dry and sighed on your way out.

“Another draft beer?”

You guessed as you walked up to him. He nodded, “And a mapo tofu, do you have that?” You took out your notes to write down his orders, “I’ll make sure and prepare that for you.

Anything else?”

Days after that, Wonwoo stopped by around eight to nine, assumingly whenever he had overtime. It’s always the same order. One (or more) glass of draft beer and any bowl dishes, that mapo tofu most of the time.

There was also the time where he came in at almost eleven. He usually never shows any signs of fatigue or weariness on his face but you can see the dim in his eyes. You tried to not approach him that much, spending more of your time checking up the kitchen before touching the baton to Kouji for the night.

You rang up his check right before you clock out. He looked a bit more refreshed after his meal, cheeks slightly flushed after a few refills of beer.

“Please walk safe home,” you gave back his card to the small tray alongside the bill.

Not expecting your non-customer service-way farewell, he stared at you for a few seconds before nodding his head, “you too.”

You swear in every language you can think of. Your heart squeezed. Wonwoo was starting to grow in your heart. It’s really nice to see him in the izakaya for a few days a week after that. You never sort of believed in any of those “at first sight” moments, if it works, good for them. While it did feel slightly heavy on your feet anytime you had to walk back to the kitchen instead of seeing him and talk to him, you had to put your mind in place. Focus. 

It could be because he’s one of your first regulars and, cough, is good looking, but you don’t know his background. Who are his friends and family and why does he always come in alone? You’re not even sure if it’s a crush or that you just found comfort with a customer. Either way, workplace is still a workplace and he is your client. This izakaya is your only rendezvous to him.

That is when Wonwoo ordered two glasses of beer. You tried your best not to halt when you stepped out of the kitchen and saw a young woman around his age beside him. You didn’t, and served him his usual bowl of rice. Gyudon this time, and mapo tofu for her.

You need to stop looking like a stalker, hiding behind the kitchen curtain. This is the second time he had brought her to this izakaya. You need to stop before someone accuses you as a total creep as you compare their interaction a few days ago with today. Almost the same. From outside it looked like they were having a quite serious and private discussion, noting down stuff on paper and their phone alternatively. As if someone’s life was actually on the line. You are also lucky Kouji will come later at night, because he might also accuse you as a total creepy stalker.

You try only focusing on attending customers. It’s almost the weekend and customers start piling up before you realize Wonwoo was already sitting alone. You try to not overthink why he didn’t take her home himself and let her go home by herself.

You walk up to the bar to check the beer dispenser. You can feel his eyes boring at you, slightly dim again like it was a couple weeks ago, and two empty glasses of beer.

“Need a refill?” you carefully ask, walking up to him.

“I’m good.” he slightly smiles before asking for his check.

You kept your sweet encouragement to yourself as you don’t want to force and assume anything towards him. He left the change and gave you a tip.

“Wonwoo?”

It was nearing autumn. Though the sun was already setting at five, the bar still opens at the same time. The rain pours hard, covering any sign of the sun setting with gloom. But nothing could’ve prepared you other than the six feet tall man crouching under the roof in front of the closed bar you’re working at, shading himself from the rain. You grip your umbrella tighter when he looks up to your call.

He calls your name in recognition as he stands up.

The rain poured harder above the roof of the izakaya when you hand Wonwoo the warm coffee on the bar. He’s in the middle of taking off his damp jacket when he looks up to you at the sight of the cup.

“On the house,”

“Thank you.”

You busy yourself behind the bar, checking and tidying stuff up under the bar as Wonwoo sips on his coffee. You peek glances over him. He doesn’t look as tired as the last time you saw him. But if your over-analysis and timeline matched, his reasoning behind crouching like a pathetic man in front of your workplace must have something to do with it.

“Is it okay if I ask you what’s wrong?”

Your sudden approach jolts him a little. He chuckles, “it’s fine,” you wait for his pause.

“I can say it’s family matters. Something came up and we had to figure it out somehow, a little stressful I might say,” you hum understanding.

“Did you not have work today? You usually come later. It’s not even six yet,”

He shakes his head, “No, I just finished super early. My seniors are having dinner, too, so,”

“Not going?”

“Not really my thing. Only works when I was new,”

He takes a sip of his coffee again. You space out for a moment not knowing what to respond. You were never the best at comforting someone. For as long as you’ve been friends with your best friends, you’ve always listened. Maybe give them some hugs and pats on the head, words of “I’m here” and “You’re not on your own” repeatedly said, affirming.

You felt sort of bad and truly embarrassed at how you acted behind him the past weeks, sort of suspecting his love life, getting (you admit) jealous at some random woman you don’t know and didn’t even try to know. Maybe what you thought a few weeks ago was right. Maybe you do have a huge cru–

“Yes, Wonwoo?” your ribbons of thoughts were snipped by Wonwoo calling your name.

“You’re usually bright, is something wrong?”

Confused by his question, you look around unsure. Guests usually come around an hour after opening, and you never wished someone to come in right now so bad through your whole career.

“M-maybe? I don’t know, sorry,”

Wonwoo was in the middle of wiping his glasses with the paw of his sleeves. He puts them back on.

“It’s usually me who’s quiet between us,” he adjusts them to the bridge of his nose, looking up at you from his seat, smiling.

Between us? He’s not making this any better. You scratch the back of your neck, not planning to come up with any reply or answer. You avert your gaze to the window, trying to avoid his eyes. Your wish of customers barging in is washed away by the rain—not slowing down any minute apparently.

“I just thought something came up and you had to like,” you chuckle at your assumption, “get off early or, run away or some sort,”

Wonwoo was still sipping his coffee. Not sensing his answer in any minute, you finish your prior thought with your remaining breath, “sort of heartbroken-looking.”

You organize the shot bottle on the under bar, again trying to distract yourself from the fact that he's now facing you, eyes boring. You didn’t budge and he stared at his coffee.

“I wanna get to know you, Wonwoo,” you finally look at him. Emphasizing on your tone, you don’t want him to feel like you’re just messing around.

“Can I?” you ponder at him, preparing yourself for the worst.

“I don’t know if it's possible. For all the time you came here, the past few weeks, I always get all... gung-ho when cooking, or preparing side dishes and bowls in the back. It’s like I want you to see me doing great like there’s nothing wrong in my mind. You know, "bright" like you said. It’s honestly stupid, fuck…” you breath out the last word.

“And then you came in super late that night, with that… heavy shoulders and countless refills of this damned beer, and then came in with that lady not once but twice, and this… serious tension between the two of you. You know, I just didn’t want to assume but it’s just… I don’t know, it was kinda confu–”

“With who now?”

You instantly pause, knowing full well he has probably catched on. So you sigh, “That… friend around your age. Pretty, slight tan, long hair,” you scratch your forehead in defeat. It’s like your pride just splurts out like a balloon being squished its air out.

You excuse yourself by collecting his empty cup on the top counter to refill it, but a hand halts your steps grabbing onto your arm.

“Don’t give me more, I don’t handle caffeine that well.”

“Just… let me put this back to the kitchen,”

“Later. Sit here.” he orders.

Your heart flinched at the slight octave drop of his already soft voice. Another sigh of loss, you put back the cup. Wonwoo slowly let go of your arm to let you walk around the bar counter.

It’s now a whole new view. Wonwoo is sitting right next to you and you can definitely smell his cologne. Even just one second of eye contact, you couldn’t handle it. How does one’s gaze be so soft and comforting? You dart your eyes and cover them with your hands with elbows on the table.

“Just… let's just finish this. I already feel ridiculous.”

All you can catch with your ears was his soft chuckle and fabric rustling, “you wanna get to know me right?”

You feel his fingers snake around your wrist, gently pulling your hands away from your face. Seeing his face up close does not help even one bit, you feel even more like shit of how messy and pathetic you must’ve looked.

“That… “friend”, is my future sister-in-law,” he starts,

Your eyeballs could probably see the back of your head as you whip your head away in another embarrassment, “Ugh, Wonwoo, enough of that,”

“Which is why we were so stressed we had to talk about it on our own. My brother’s marriage is on the line.”

You hear his tone indicating him smiling whilst explaining. To be frank, you kind of already gave up the moment his voice dropped an octave lower. All you can do now is just to sit next to Wonwoo with his thumb drawing circles on your palm. 

“It’s not stupid,” he softly assures, fingertips a little cold from sheltering the rain earlier. But it does feel so to you. Stupid crush at the ripe age of your 20s. Great. 

“So can I get to know you then?”

You look up at him, desperate for his answer and decision.

“Only if I get to know you, too. Here,”

He taps his finger to the table, hand still not letting go of yours. You make sure once more, “like right here?”

He nods, “until today’s first customer.”

You’re not sure if the smile on your lips is for him or just out of embarrassment, “Well technically you are one,” you chuckle, “at least let me put this back to the kitchen.”

Well, now that your stupid crush issue is all clear, you can finally find the courage to look at his face one more time, no meddling. All you can focus on was the soft and playful beam on his eyes behind that thick specs.

“Tell Kouji-san you got a date tonight.”

[18:06] sensei [18:06] i might have to clock off early

[18:12] Oh sure, something’s up?

[18:13] yeah umm [18:13] i just booked myself a date

[18:14] Oooh [18:14] Hahaha [18:14] About time that wonwoo

[18:14] ??? [18:14] sensei???

—

[m.list]

im bout to make a “try not writing scenario about another meet cute at 3 am” challenge (already failed)

[bruisedboys]

also!!!!ugh eddie taking a shy!you to one of your first ever concerts. just let’s you cling to him the entire time because it’s just a little overwhelming. he buys you drinks all night and definitely!!!! gets angry when he catches some other guy flirting with you.

sweet — eddie munson x reader

summary: protective bf eddie takes his shy girl to her first concert. fluff, established relationship, shy!reader (ty aerial for this superb ask I love you sooo so much)

fem!reader 1.2k words

You’re clinging to Eddie like a koala to a tree. You don’t seem like you’re going to let go any time soon. Eddie doesn’t really mind, though it worries him a little.

You say something but you’re too quiet and the music’s too loud and Eddie doesn’t understand. The only reason he knows you’re trying to tell him something is because he sees your lips moving. He’s maybe been watching your expressions like a hawk for the past half hour. Maybe.

Eddie thinks, defensively, that he has a right to be worried. It’s your first concert, and you’ve always been on the shyer side, to the point where even small gatherings with Eddie’s friends overwhelm you. Not that he cares. He likes you just the way you are. He’s just worried this — the people, the music, the crowds — could be too much for you.

Eddie bends down slightly so his mouth is next to your ear. “What was that, pretty girl?”

As expected, you flush from head to foot. Your fingers toy with the hem of your denim jacket as you shake your head, staring at the dirty floor.

“It’s nothing,” you say, loud enough for him to hear but still quiet. Timid. Your voice is scratchy. “Doesn’t matter.”

Eddie’s brow pinches. He reaches around his torso to grab your wrist, pulls your hand away from where it’s abusing your jacket, his fingers working into the spaces between yours. His movements make you look up, your big sweet doe eyes meeting his.

“What did you say?” He asks, voice low and careful. Kind, but concerned. “Are you feeling okay?”

You swallow and it looks awfully hard for you to do so. Eddie remembers your scratchy voice. Something clicks in his brain.

“You’re thirsty,” he says suddenly. “Gotcha.”

You look embarrassed that he’s figured you out but happy that you don’t have to ask again. You nod, all flushed in the cheeks. It’s adorable.

Eddie steps around so he’s facing you better, chest to chest, your joint hands squished between you. You’re still clinging to his other arm, your fingers digging into the crook of his elbow. You’re standing so close now that it’s hard to tell whose limbs are whose.

“Do you want to wait here while I go get drinks or do you want to come with me?” Eddie asks. Usually he’d take you with him, but he doesn’t want you to miss any songs.

You give his elbow a squeeze. “I’ll wait here.”

There’s a hint of braveness in your tone that makes Eddie proud. It shows in his smile. “Yeah? You’ll be okay by yourself?”

You nod just as the stage lights wash over the both of you. The fluorescent lights paint your face all sorts of colours, your skin glowing under their heat. You look like an angel, Eddie thinks. He can’t help reaching out to touch your face, the line of your jaw blazing bright under the stage lights, the shadowy hollow of your neck.

Eddie’s totally mesmerised. “You’re so pretty,” he says, ultimately forgetting the conversation at hand.

Your skin burns under his touch. You look to the side, forcing him to drop his hand from your face. “Eddie,” you chide quietly. You look like you want to floor to swallow you up.

Eddie’s heart swells. You’re so shy. It’s endearing. “Just telling the truth, bub,” he says, hooking a knuckle under your chin.

He tilts you up until you’re looking at him again, flushed and nervous but pretty as ever. Your skin is burning. He figures he better dial down the flirting, otherwise you might burst into flames on the spot.

“What drink did you want?” He asks gently, casually, like you’re not seconds from passing out.

“Um,” You stutter for a moment, words lost in the heat of the moment. Eddie waits patiently for your mouth to catch up with your brain. “Just, um … whatever you’re having. Get your favourite.”

Eddie almost melts on the spot. You’re the sweetest girl he’s ever met. “Okay.”

“Thanks, Eddie.”

Eddie’s pleasantly surprised when you push up onto your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. Your mouth is warm and soft on his skin. It’s a quick peck and you pull away after only a moment, but Eddie still feels frazzled by it. He’s sure if he doesn’t pull away soon, he’ll never be able to. He gently frees himself from your grasp and gives both your arms a good rub.

“I’ll be back soon, angel.”

When Eddie gets back, a drink in each hand, you’re not alone. Some guy is talking to you animatedly, his hands moving as he speaks. Eddie’s surprised and then not. You’re very pretty, of course you’ve caught someone’s eye. Though, you look less than enthusiastic about it, silent and tight-lipped. Your hands are gripping the ends of your jacket again.

Eddie gets closer and he can tell you’re trying to be polite, a small smile plastered on your face as you nod every once in a while. But he can see by your body language that really, you just want the dude to leave you alone. Eddie gives him a once over. He’s admittedly quite a bit taller than Eddie. He could probably steamroll him if he wanted to. Eddie doesn’t let that stop him. He strides forward.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He addresses you directly, his tone loud and cheerful, acting as if the dude isn’t there. His interruption cuts off the stranger in the middle of what sounds like a very self-absorbed speech. Eddie steps in so he’s half blocking you from the guy’s view. “I got your drink.”

You look immensely relieved and grateful as you take the drink from him, your fingers brushing his for a beat too long. You meet Eddie’s eyes and he gives you a look, raising one eyebrow as if to say who does this guy think he is? You’re giggling softly as he turns to face said guy.

“You alright, dude?” Eddie asks loudly, almost shouting in his face. In any other setting Eddie would get a mouthful of knuckles for that, but here, where the crowd is loud and the music louder, he gets away with it.

The guy scowls and grumbles something unintelligible.

Eddie uses this to his advantage and acts like he can’t hear him, bouncing along to the pounding music and pointing to his ear. “Sorry, man! Can’t hear you!”

To top it all off, Eddie throws an arm around your shoulders, jostling you to the music and planting a smacking kiss to your cheek. The dude rolls his eyes and walks off, disappearing into the crowd. Eddie and you watch him leave with twin grins.

You feel a tad stiff under Eddie’s arm. He releases you though he doesn’t want to, worried he’s overdone it. Your shy smile as you step back into Eddie’s personal space and take his hand in yours reassures him.

“Thanks, Eddie,” you say quietly, squeezing his hand in a way that has him melting like a popsicle.

Eddie feels dazed and can barely get his words out around his massive grin.

“That’s okay,” he says. He’s not sure why he’s grinning so much. He thinks it’s because you’re just so fucking sweet. “S’what boyfriends are for, right? Scaring away the creepy dudes?”

You wrinkle your nose. “That guy was annoying,” you complain, pushing into Eddie’s side like you want to be glued to him forever. “Wouldn’t stop talking about himself.“

You giggle at your own words, a pretty lilting sound that makes Eddie feel like he’s floating. Really, he should be enjoying the music, but instead he’s just enjoying the sweet sounds of you, drinking up your laugh and your voice like it’s liquid gold. The concert thrives around him but he can barely hear it.

Grinning so wide his cheeks ache, Eddie nudges your drink with his, your glasses clinking. “Drink up, sweetheart. I got my favourite, like you said.”

Actually, he got your favourite instead of his. He doesn’t tell you this. You’ll figure it out soon enough.

thank you for reading! reblogs are appreciated 🤍

[lunasblunt]

barracuda

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪

SFW!!!!! pt.1

pairing: logan howlett x original female!mutant character

summary: terra, a mutant with the ability to manipulate earthly elements and grow plants/flowers from her palms, finds herself incredibly fed up with logan as they’re forced to to train together.

suggested song: barracuda by heart BASIC IK BUT IT JUST FITS SO WELL

CW: mention of blood, mention of hand to hand combat / fighting using their powers (i’m terrible at writing fight scenes so it won’t be graphic at all), logan is pretty aggressive towards her but dw it’s not gonna be like this for the entire fic it’s just his character arc….

A/N: pretty sure i saw a oneshot w the idea of these powers a while ago so just wanna let u guys know this idea did NOT come from me & i don’t claim to have come up w it :)) also this is part 1 so pls don't hate me for not making them make out straight away...... we need some tension first... HOPE U ENJOY <3

edited a/n: if anyone’s interested in being on a taglist for this fic pls reply/lmk i’d love to figure out how tumblr works and keep u all updated lolllll

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪

terra was never one to fuss over charles’s orders. the girl knew the man was incapable of making bad decisions, especially when it came to the team. but when charles had called both logan and terra into his office, asking the two of them to train as a combat duo, she felt her respect for his wisdom fly out the window.

logan… and her? a combat duo? she found the idea hilarious. her eyes scanned the office, waiting to see if this meeting was some sort of prank. as charles continued on, raving about how if the two could cooperate as a unit it could be greatly beneficial for the team, she had to face the reality of the situation. the professor was serious.

the idea of their gifts working well together caused her a great headache. if anything, their abilities, and personalities, were quite opposite. in what world would logan’s cocky, carefree skillset and her peaceful, nonviolent aura compliment each other?

as much as she wanted to put up a fight with the professor, she’d known there was nothing she could do. when charles had made his mind up, it was an unspoken rule to trust how it played out.

now here she was, a day later, taking a gulp of water unhappily as she waited for logan’s arrival.

the second logan stepped foot into training room, terra could feel the energy shift. his cold, stuck up demeanor practically deteriorated the calm, tranquil atmosphere she’d been building all morning.

"glad you decided to show up!" terra spits, setting the tone for their upcoming weeks of training. it'd been an hour past the time charles had set for them to meet.

this newfound attitude felt out of character to terra. usually, the girl found herself calm and collected, grounded and appreciative of the world around her. it was when she first met logan that she discovered the way it felt to actually hate someone.

terra thinks back to the two's first few encounters. the way he ignored her hand when she politely introduced herself, the way he made passive aggressive comments toward her in group settings, the way he completely ignored her presence in any scenario. a hot, tingly feeling started to fill the pit in her stomach.

logan scoffs to himself, finding her attitude amusing. he pinches the thick cigar resting between his lips, takes one last puff, then puts it out on the wall beside him.

"we'll start with hand to hand combat." is all that logan lets escapes his lips. he wasn't there to chat, he was there for a reason, and he wasn't going to let her waste anymore of his day. “no powers, no tricks, just raw sparring.”

terra shakes her head, returning the same petty scoff he’d given her in response. he was unbelievable.

as the two get into their fighting positions, terra refuses to acknowledge the way logan is quick to peel off his tank top, and she definitely refuses to acknowledge the strange way it left that fiery pit in her stomach lively and bothered.

for a while the two fight, logan’s experience giving him the upper hand. she’d never been the soldier, she was the distraction. making the ground shake or bending the trees around them into different shapes to buy the team some extra time; she was there to confuse the enemy, not hurt them.

eventually, their brawl tends to get more heated and logan can see how it’s affecting her. the girl was tired, her body practically crumbling beneath her, but she refused to give up.

logan sees this as the perfect opportunity to get under her skin.

“come on, that all you got?” he hisses through gritted teeth, poking the bear. terra can’t help but let the vines that had been begging to be freed shoot out of her palms. before he realizes what’s going on, logan can feel the plants slithering up his legs. they make their way to his forearms, then to his neck, curling around him tightly, pushing him away from the girl trapped beneath him.

logan lets out a low chuckle at the girl’s spectacle, the grip of the vines on his neck a feeling he didn't exactly mind. was that really the best she could do?

as terra gives a breathless smirk, thinking she’d done a number on him, logan lets the blades hidden in between his knuckles slide out. without a word, the man is instantly darting toward her... or more specifically the green nuisances growing from her hands.

logan slices the vines straight from where they came from, leaving terra no choice but to fall to the floor in agonizing pain.

he watches as her palms start to gush blood, her eyes widening in shock. bending down on his knee, getting to her level, logan lets his lips slide into a smirk. these next few weeks were going to be fun for him. "you're gonna keep getting yourself into trouble if you don't start paying attention." the man breathes, too careless to yell.

with that, logan turns on his heel, his back facing the injured girl. he thinks about lighting up the rest of his cigar, more hung up on the taste of it lingering in his mouth than the state he's left the oh so peaceful "mother nature" in.

[menlove]

wait enlighten me on the i’m so tired being about paul grind i don’t know if i see it

ofc! it's just interpretation obviously but it's one of those that makes me eye it a bit. but. it's one of those that every beatles wiki will be like "it's about yoko" but he's never said that and honestly the song doesn't fit with their relationship at the time like at all. she WAS writing him a lot of telegrams and their relationship was certainly getting Weirder at the time, but I wouldn't think it would inspired sleepless, tortured nights yet

the song is very much like. a sort of rising anger/irritation with the situation and the person in the song which is very much where paul and john were at at the time. I'm not a "something happened in india" truther, but I do think things between them were going south. had been since brian died and only got worse with paul getting engaged.

this part particularly To Me reads as very paul

bc at the point john and YOKO were at if he called her and was like "hey I'm in love with you and I'm going insane and can't sleep over it" I don't even know that HE'D be scared she'd say he was joking and turn him down. like she was very much the one doing the chasing there for a while and her telegrams seem pretty damn confident about where that relationship was headed. where they were at just didn't seem like the tortured, aching, harm that he talks about in this song. it was the beginning obsession of new love which is a TOTALLY different feeling than this song gives off.

paul on the other hand. I think it would be incredibly reasonable to assume that if he told paul "yeah I haven't been able to sleep because you're driving me insane, I'm in love with you, and it's like actually genuinely hurting me" paul would go "that's a hilarious one john thanks" like 💀 way more in character for paul to brush something like that off than yoko

also as just a further lil reach lol in the esher demo there's this:

obviously john was just misspeaking and meant to say my arms but. interesting especially bc at this point him and yoko had never slept together or been intimate at all. that's USUALLY something I'd call bullshit on with affairs, but they've been pretty open about their relationship timeline. she's also. I mean. yoko isn't very charming lmao I'm not dogging on her she just isn't and she knows that, john knew that, the world knows that. she's just a very blunt person who at the time this was written was just coming off as sort of strange and mysterious to him.

so saying yknow "when I hold you (/fuck you) I wonder if I should get up and lock myself in a mental institution" would again just be a really weird and nonsensical thing to say about yoko. about the notoriously charming man who in this scenario you'd be fucking, though.......... homosexuality was BARELY legal let alone smth john had come to grips with so this whole doom spiral around this person & fucking them & what that means for you, well! very interesting, anyway

anyway that's it! I just am super unconvinced this song is about yoko. and there's really only 3 sort of romantic interest options in his life at the time it could be about and it just wouldn't fit for yoko or cynthia imo. so that leaves paul. and their quickly crumbling relationship.

[bagopucks]

T. Zegras - Can He Sing?

✄————————————

Trevor Zegras x Fem!reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning(s): None?

—————————————

“We’re ready when you are.”

“I’m good. Trev?”

“Uh yeah… I think so.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Filming.”

“Hello! I’m Macy Grey and today we’re here with the singer-songwriter who brought you the famous album Silly Love Songs. And her lover Trevor Zegras from the Anaheim Ducks. On behalf of myself and the studio I want to thank you both for coming out today.”

“Of course! I love getting in touch with interviewers. Especially from locally known studios.”

“When I was informed you were in town for the All Stars, I wasn’t sure if you’d have the time, but I’m so happy you were able to fit us into your schedule.”

“Absolutely. I should be thanking you for letting Trevor come though. I know your forte isn’t exactly hockey players.”

Large studio interviews were a waste of time. It was something I always resented, and something that even morally never agreed with me. Large studios only wanted to get news first to make the most money. Smaller places offered a more personal environment and a more comfortable atmosphere. It was the only reason why I had invited Trevor along. I didn’t want him involved too much in the social half of my career, mostly because the industry and jealous fans could be cruel to artists’ lovers. But I reasoned with myself that one interview wouldn’t hurt. Especially with someone like Macy Grey. She was always so kind and open to friends, family, or significant others of musicians.

“To kick us off, I’d love to talk more on the exact reason why you’re in town. Everyone is aware of your successes, but let’s fill the crowd in on Trevor’s.”

“Where to start?” I glanced at Trevor, who let out that awkward wheezy laugh. He was uncharacteristically quiet, but this was a new thing for him. Usually hockey interviews happened when there were loads of other people around. These interviews were far more private. “He was voted in as one of the players this year to play in the All Stars, and he’s competing in a few skills competitions as well. He won a gold medal with Team USA one year before the NHL, he attended Boston University before being drafted.. what else?” I hoped to get him to join in, but Trevor looked fairly comfortable letting me do all the talking. I could fix that though.

“Trevor was voted most likely to cry in a haunted house this year for team superlatives.” I smirked as soon as I heard him gasp.

“Yeah, that’s enough of that,” Trevor cut in. “I’m not a baby, write that down.” He pointed toward Macy, as if the woman had some sort of notepad in her hands. “I’m just jumpy. It’s normal.” His blue eyes shifted toward me with a playful glare, Macy laughed softly at the exchange.

“Well, Trevor. It seems like you’re a pretty successful person yourself. Would you mind me asking how you two met?”

“Oh I love this story.”

“Me too,” Trevor chimed in, crossing his legs one over the other, and leaning forward like a kid during story time.

“So, I was in New York for a performance in MSG, and the Ducks were in town too for a game” I smiled, leaning back in my chair and trying to get comfortable. “My best friend had joined me for the eastern leg of the tour at the time, so we decided to go out for drinks downtown. My favorite bar in the city is 230 Fifth Rooftop Bar. So my best friend, Shelby and I, we just got two glasses of champagne and settled at a high table to watch the sunset. We’re minding our own business.. for the most part, but there’s this group of guys that are just carrying on. They’re loud and obnoxious and they look like your stereotypical frat guys. At one point Shelby had enough, and she got up to go yell at them.” I peeked at Trevor, his smile growing wider. He knew very well that this was the part where he came in. “So Shelby’s yelling at that group of guys, and I finally got up to go wrangle her. And just as I’m approaching.. I kinda stopped and asked myself if it was a good idea. Shelby doesn’t like to be told to stop much. Then I hear this voice right next to me. Scared the shit out of me. And the voice goes, “She yours?” I laughed softly, as did Macy.

“I apologized profusely for her behavior, and-“

“But I told her I wasn’t the one getting yelled at. So it didn’t bother me.” Trevor cut in with a toothy grin. “Then I bought her another glass of champagne and the rest is history.”

“Don’t forget about the part where you booked your hotel room for an extra night to see me perform.” I teased, “And bribed security into getting backstage to see me and ask for my number.”

“Those details don’t make me sound as cool though,” Trevor whined.

“That’s a really sweet story.” Macy chimed in.

“Thank you.”

“So he asked for your number, but who asked who out?”

“To simplify a long story, Trevor was beating around the bush too much for a little while, so one night be brought me flowers before an away game and I told him when he got back, we were going to go on our first date as an official couple.” Macy and I laughed in unison.

“And were there any arguments to that demand?”

“Not from me, no.” Trevor giggled. “I was more than happy to put a label on it.”

“And how long have you been together?”

“Two years. Three at the end of All Star Week.”

“How adorable! You guys must be a strong couple then.”

“Oh one hundred percent.” Trevor smiled as he spoke.

“Now, the question on everyone’s minds is.. can he sing?”

“Yes!”

“Absolutely not.” I corrected Trevor ruthlessly. “He thinks he can.. but he can’t.” I chuckled, glancing at the sandy blonde to see his look of pure betrayal.

“Does that mean we won’t be hearing any duets?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” I answered slyly, earning a surprised look from Macy. “Trev is featured on the album.. speaking. His features are mostly just backtracks.”

“I know this may be asking a lot but- is there any chance we could get a sneak peek at that?”

“For you Macy? I would love to.” I watched the girl’s eyes light up. I pulled my phone from my pocket and opened my files, scrolling through for a moment before I stood and dragged my chair closer to the woman’s.

“This song is called Spellbound. It was actually the first song I produced for this new album. I took some of my inspiration from the song Witchy Woman by the Eagles. The reason being, this was written during halloween, and that is just one of my favorite spooky songs. For this piece, I wanted it to feel supernaturally devoted to Trevor. Like.. kind of like.. like a love where one person idolizes the other, but not necessarily in an obsessive or toxic way. I think the lyrics and the tune teetering on the edge of insanity really adds to the supernatural edge and it also makes this song unique to Trevor. I can’t say I’ll ever produce another song like this, nor do I think anyone else will. Classic rock isn’t exactly my genre, nor do I plan for it to be. So this track really sticks out. Which is the main reason why I chose to give this song its own cover art. And I’ll be releasing it as the first single.” It was a lot of information to offer, but I was very passionate about the things I dedicated to Trevor. Especially this song.

Most of my music got old after constantly rerecording lyrics and harmonies, or sorting out instruments. But this song never did. I loved it through and through.

“This sounds amazing and so.. intricate. How long did it take in total from thinking of the idea to finalizing the song?”

“A full month maybe? I hadn’t been exactly itching to make a new album, so I knew if I was going to, my basis for it was going to have to be amazing. And I think I did a fairly good job.” I paused. “I hope so..”

“I’m sure it’s amazing. Let’s hear it!”

I wasted no time in playing the track, a steel guitar and stylized keyboard opening the musical scene. I was a person who loved using clips of recordings in my music, whether it was from everyday life, or a random video in my camera roll, or even if I took the recording of the sound specifically for a song. It was one of my many musical signatures, but the one I was most known for. Atop the smooth music, came the faded clinging of pans, and Trevor’s soft voice. “I can’t wait for you to be home.. Fuck I miss you so much.” It had been a voicemail, but my sound producers managed to give it a more authentic feel, as if someone was in the room with him recording instead of it being spoken into a phone mic. The music itself was fairly calm and collected. Certain instruments helped it sound taboo and old, but the lyrics were the driving factor that made it sound almost insane. A part of me worried my audience wouldn’t take to the song well, but Macy seemed enthralled from the start of the track.

I eyed her expressions carefully through every second, smiling to myself when she seemed particularly intrigued by a section. And I had to admit, it boosted my ego to hear Trevor not too far off in his own chair humming the song to himself. I could live with myself if everyone hated the song, as long as he loved it.

Near the bridge, Trevor’s voice returned, “I’m gonna keep you forever.” This section had been specifically recorded in the studio, and despite my endless attempts to get him to take it seriously, he had giggled at the end of every take. Eventually I settled on knowing I wouldn’t have it the exact way I wanted it, and we used the take with the least amount of amusement in his voice. At the end of the day when we put it all together, his laugh only ended up adding to the crazy feel of the song.

Near the end of the track, Macy finally spoke up.

“This is the weirdest and most mentally satisfying song I have ever heard.”

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Really?”

“You’re so right, it sounds nothing like what you usually produce, but it still has your essence in it. You can tell it’s your songwriting. I think this song is going to be crazy successful. And I also think having Trevor on it is going to make people go nuts” I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of that. I knew my fans would love to see Trevor featured.

“Thank you so much. I’m so excited to release the song.” I admitted with a slight grin.

“I’m just excited that I’ll be able to listen to it without having to say “babe can you sing me that song” every time I wanna hear it.” Trevor teased, causing my cheeks to flush as our eyes met.

“You don’t like her singing to you?” Macy joked.

“God no. I love it when she sings. I just hate how much I get made fun of when I ask her to do it.” The three of us laughed.

“Sounds to me like you have a pretty devoted girlfriend.”

“She did write a weirdly obsessive song about me.” Trevor agreed pridefully. “The first of many, right babe?” His question made my brow rise in surprise.

“We’ll see, Ziggy.”

“That’s a good answer. Can’t give too much away just yet.” My eyes trailed back to Macy. Our time was drawing to a close. “I hate to cut us short but I think we’re reaching our limit. And I know you have your own tight schedule today.” She paused. “I really wanna thank you again for making enough time to come out. It means a lot.”

“Mace, I think I speak for the both of us when I say we had so much fun being here. You always conduct the best interviews.” The woman blushed.

“We can come back anytime.” Trevor added, catching me off guard.

“I’ll have to take you up on that offer the next time you’re in town.” Macy grinned. “I hope you both enjoy the All Stars, and rock the red carpet of course.”

“Thank you so much. We definitely hope to.”

“I’ll be watching on tv.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

[maxwell-grant]

do you have any favorite batman henchmen?

I put a lot of stock into how a Batman work tackles the resident henchmen and assistants and organization surrounding any specific Batrogue and how those intersect with each other so yes, absolutely I have Bat-henchman opinions, and favorites per villain. I'm gonna about pick about one or two among my favorites and name a few honorable mentions, with one exception and that's Rhino, Scarface's muscle. I know he's sort of a package deal with Mugsy, and Mugsy's pretty good too, but Rhino's the one I love.

I have a huge amount of fondness for Rhino and Rhino specifically because of his showing in "Read my Lips", as one of my favorite musical pieces for the series is the leitmotif that plays specifically for Rhino's moments in the opening heist and his brawl with Batman in the climax, and frankly he earns a top spot for me solely on the basis that he has his own theme and it's a banger on top of that. Scarface is exactly the kind of Bat-villain you want funny stereotypical cartoon gangsters attached to, and the big dumb grunt archetype is always more fun when paired with a proportionally much smaller partner or boss. And in Rhino's case, not only is he a titanically strong wall of muscle taking orders from a hand-held puppet dressed like a gangster, but cowering in fear when said puppet gets angry at him and relieved when reminded that he's too stupid to betray da boss. They made a lot with very little out of a bit character and it makes me love the episode so much more, and again, he has his own theme song and it opens the episode even, pretty hard to top that.

Penguin: My favorite overall has usually been Lark, specifically the version of her that was introduced in Tony Daniel's run. Like with Rhino and Scarface, the tiny funny-looking Oswald Cobblepot having a tall, intimidating lady chaffeur following him around makes for good contrast, and although I didn't like "Bullies" much at all, I really liked that scene of them being on friendly terms with each other, how much Penguin trusts her with his life and what he does. I like she is not abiding by any kind of formal dress code, like everyone else who tends to work at the Lounge, she's got almost like a punk thing that really contrasts with Oswald's own outfits and I always liked that, her individuality.

A more recent favorite would be Lili Kwan from Penguin: One Bad Day, someone who is far more marginalized than Oswald, and someone who was marginalized and pushed aside BY Oswald, but who joins up with him because he is the best lesser evil she is going to get and because they have enough in common that he can relate to her and respect her and ensure she is respected, but she pointedly does not mince words around him and does not entertain Oswald's delusions and self-loathing. She kinda demands Oswald to be the better class of criminal he paints himself as, to learn from his mistakes and earn having her by his side because "a king can't have illusions", and that's an incredibly interesting dynamic to me, this person with a vision of what Penguin and his empire should be like and in a position to have Penguin listen to her about it, not just muscle by his side but a voice in his ear pushing him to get his head in the game, be someone who deserves the loyalty he has from the underprivileged and the outcasts he claims to be a part of.

Honorable mentions would be the Red Triangle Gang from Batman Returns. I don't think they would really belong in any other version of the Penguin, and I have some very mixed feelings on Returns still, but I like the history they have with this Oswald and I like them in the movie proper, my favorite is the Poodle Lady for no real reason. I would also name the Kabuki Twins from The Batman cartoon, and Mr Decondor from The Batman Audio Adventures.

Joker: I gotta go with Bob the Goon, the Number One Guy. He is not even called Bob the Goon in the movie, he's just become so emblematic a figure for goons everywhere that he earns that name, Bob the Goon. See, I actually don't think the Joker should employ clowns in his gang, I think if you have more than one clown going around doing crimes, then they're not that special individually, I don't see the Joker surrounding himself with people who look or act even half as outlandish as himself, and that’s part of why Bob works for me, this comically ordinary schlub grunt who nevertheless endears himself to our sympathies for putting up with the Joker, being endlessly loyal to Napier before and after his accident. We like him in no small part because the Joker clearly likes this guy as much as he's capable of liking anyone on the planet, which is why it actually lands when the Joker guns him down just to vent. Rest in peace Bob, an example to low-lives everywhere.

If I had to name another favorite, and one I think works better on a reocurring basis, it would be Charlie Charleyhorse, from The Batman Audio Adventures. Charleyhorse has the mannerisms of a smooth-talking wise guy and is the guy who handles the day-to-day businesses of the Joker, sweet-talking recruits and negotiating deals and convincing rookies to eat poison and even hosting his broadcasts, and in contrast to the other villain sidekicks in the show who provide comedic contrast he is this very efficient, very charming and dangerous man, fully cognizant of the cruelty he's assisting and the man he works for. To me he feels like a very organic way of establishing how much more dangerous the Joker is compared to the other villains, that he runs his disorganized crime with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine, that behind all the chaos and mayhem there is an unfathomably brilliant mind at work and a smart, affable businessman to act as a conduit between that mind and the city, as if the Joker plucked the ghost of Jack Napier from his soul and found a sweet deal that lets them both happily exist.

Honorable mentions would be Prank, from The Batman cartoon. I think Joker gunning for his own Robin is an idea with legs (Harley never really counted in that regard), I really liked his design, a perfect combination of Robin aesthetics with a clown/jester motif, and I thought he had one of the more interesting set-ups for a "Joker corrupts people into extensions of him" story, definitely one of the better Joker episodes in that show. Other honorable mentions would be Jackanapes and Captain Clown from TAS, because the Joker getting unreasonably attached to a horrible giant clown android is a pretty funny concept to me.

Riddler: God, what a perfect character Miss Tuesday is. Pairing up the self-obsessed artist of crime with the harshest critic of all, the disinterested judgemental teenager, is such a perfect combo and it does so much to breathe new life into a very classic take on Riddler. The fact that she regularly stays in touch and coordinates stuff with other villain interns is amazing and part of the incredible worldbuilding The Batman Audio Adventures has in general. Miss Tuesday is this physical embodiment of ennui to deflate his cartwheeling histerics, manifesting every bit of self-awareness that the Riddler completely ignores, annoying him just as much as he annoys everyone else (her included).

It's punctuated by her being casually murderous to an extent that even surprises him, and the fact that she is just as smart as he is, so by the standards he lives his life by, he can't brush her off as another small-minded knuckle-dragging ignoramus like he does with everyone else, no, he can't tell himself that she simply doesn't understand what he is doing. She does understand him, she is just not that impressed by him, and Eddie will simply have to roll with the barbs and work harder if he is to prove himself. She is the closest The Riddler has to a conscience and thus her job is not to push him towards any kind of moral self-improvement or an approach to his work that doesn't involve murder and terrorism, but to dunk cold water on his head and call him cringe when he gets in too deep or for doing this instead of, like, making money off this crap or something.

The other candidate would be the Riddler's Followers from The Batman. They're not a concept I think would work for a more traditional version of The Riddler, but God they work SO well for that movie and that version of him, marking Eddie Nigma's transition from malajusted murderer into not just a supervillain with a city-destroying plot, not just the rise of supervillains as a thing Gotham is gonna have to deal with forever, but as a sickness aimed at the heart of the city, and a sickness that Batman is indirectly responsible for and that he must owe up to. I really like how The Riddler: Year One elaborates on them with "He doesn't trust people. But numbers never lie." His "henchmen" are numbers, numbers on a screen he never has to actually interact with, but can still send on to be proxies of him, embodiments of how much bigger this is than anything Batman could have imagined it being.

Honorable mentions would be the classic duo of Query and Echo, and much like Bob, we gotta bring up his henchgirl Molly from the Batman 66 pilot two-parter, who tragically died by falling into the Batcave's nuclear reactor. "What a way to go-go".

Two-Face: It's common for Two-Face to have twin sets of named thugs but I can't say any of them have ever been particularly memorable to me, but one that does stick out to me is Benny from Long Shadows. I'm of the opinion that if any Batman villain should be establishing a working relationship with a henchman/assistant, if any Batman villain really needs to be depicted putting in the work as far as convincing people to work for him, it should be Two-Face, the former widely-beloved District Attorney/politician turned crimelord who somehow stays a dominant player in the Gotham underworld despite everything stacked against him (his face, his reputation, his past being public record, the coin-based decisions, etc). I think Two-Face needs to be some degree of charismatic and conversational and convincing, he's someone with more tangential history in this world than the other villains and should be willing and able to engage with people at any level, even if, and especially if, he's going to betray or save them at the flip of a coin, and the closest anyone's ever come to capturing that for me has been Benny, this guy who's willing to question Two-Face's decisions and is smart and sensible and generally pleasant enough that Two-Face lets him do it (with some limits, of course) and lets him in on what he's planning. Being drawn by Mark Bagley, who can convey a lot of expression and personality on any character, is definitely a bonus.

Scarecrow: Not so much of a henchmen since this was technically a villain team-up, but Scream Queen as she was featured in that Brave and the Bold segment has literally nothing in common with comics Scream Queen as debuted in Scare Tactics to the point she is a new character in every way. I like comics Scream Queen quite a lot, and I wouldn't want her to be any kind of underling to Scarecrow, but BATB Scream Queen is a very cool design and concept and in general I think Scarecrow could stand to have some cool and inventive henchmen, I wouldn't be opposed to seeing BATB Scream Queen turn up again so long as she had a different name. I'm also extremely partial to the Strawmen and the idea of him employing former students and offering them teaching exercises mid-crime.

Bane: There's really only one form of Bane henchmen that matter and it's Bird, Zombie and Trogg, the Fabulous Five to his Doc Savage (I always felt like there could be two more members to actually make them five, I know it doesn't have to be an exact reference but). I like them as they are in regular canon but my favorite depiction of them so far has been in the Batman 66 comic by Jeff Parker, which retrofits Bane to fit the 66 aesthetic and tone by further emphasizing his lucha motif, and having his Fabulous Three all dress up in distinct masks of their own referencing existing iconic luchadore characters.

Black Mask: I think the False Face Society is one of the more interesting parts of Black Mask's concept and it really doesn't come up enough, and when it does it gets folded into just being a name for his gangster lackeys instead of the weird cult aspect it acquired when it was folded into his character, I'd like to see that stuff get folded back in.

Hugo Strange: Honestly I love all of Hugo's varied forms of henchmen over the years, all of them have their place in the grand tapestry of his designs (I'm not too big on Sanjay from Batman and the Monster Men, there is stuff to like about their dynamic but I don't think the pulp racial manservant is a thing deserving of the charming throwback treatment). The gangsters from his debut, the androids/mannequins, Night Scourge, the TYGER guards/troopers from Arkham City, the mind-controlled villains and inmates from his Deathstroke arc, and of course the Monster Men. I do prefer the horrific body horror kaijus from Night of the Monster Men, but I also like the mutated giants, especially when they dress up in oversized trenchcoats and slouch hats.

There are a few others but I'm lastly gonna say Mr.Freeze and his polar bears Notchka and Shaka, from Batman and Mr.Freeze: Subzero. I'm not opposed to Mr.Freeze having regular henchmen, or even ice-themed henchmen like in Batman and Robin, there are ways to have it make sense, but the polar bears I think have this sort of almost innocent fairytale logic to them that just fits Mr.Freeze and his imagery a lot better, abstract guardians of the concept of the arctic that Mr.Freeze claims dominion over. Even at their most benign, you can't extricate human henchmen from the inherent brutality of their profession, but when it's trained animals defending a master, it's easier to find innocence and sympathy, traits that fit well with Mr.Freeze. If there's anything in that movie I remember, it's the bittersweet ending where they walk off into a blizzard together, his sole two companions into this new life he's cursed with.

Does it really make any sense for Mr.Freeze's established skillset and character for him to have a duo of trained polar bears on call to do crimes with, the way Penguin and Catwoman have their own trained animals? No. Is it corny? Arguably yes. Do I think it's cool? Is it a cool image? Very much so, and when it comes to Batman, that tends to be the final word in things.

[barracuda-shark-games]

Jocosa | she/her | 33 years old | bisexual

Notable traits: Intimidating, clever, diplomatic, merciful, reasonable, compassionate

Description

Despite her relatively young age compared to other advisors, Jocosa has served as Chief Royal Advisor to the Sunrise Throne since Wilmot ascended to power 13 years ago, when Jocosa was only 20. Her curly blonde hair frames piercing blue eyes, and she keeps it tied into two braids that cascade over her shoulders and reach just past her waist. Her curvy figure is usually adorned by a form-fitting crimson gown with silver and gold embroidery, and accessorized with matching gold and silver jewelry in the form of heavy bangles, thick chokers, and big earrings. She colors her full lips and round cheeks with rouge makeup that embellishes her rosy complexion. At a relatively average height of 5’7 (170cm) and with a deceptively youthful face, Jocosa still makes an imposing figure due to her competency, wisdom, and willpower. She carries herself with poised grace and determination. Some accuse her of having a bleeding heart; whether or not that’s the case, it’s still a heart she keeps closely guarded.

Trivia

On romance: While Jocosa will be available for romance regardless of the MC’s gender, she has never had a relationship nor feelings for another woman before and will, as a result, be a bit shyer with a female MC than with a male MC. That being said, she will fall equally in love with an MC of either gender when romanced.

Favorite food: Grilled salmon; she is a pescetarian

Song: 'Hold Me' by be steadwell

I am breathless weightless in her arms nothing felt so much like home yet I'm restless the parts that I can't trust, the reckless urge to stay alone. she said "Hold me. Hold me, when you start to lose control. When you feel like letting go, baby don't." No one ever could control me, least of all myself, tangled up in consequence. I remember when she told me she would be the one, spoken with all confidence. She said "Hold me, that's all I need you to do. Break the skin if you have to, I can take the pain for you."

Excerpt

Under the cut for chapter 1 spoilers! Keep in mind that this is a rough draft and, therefore, may be subject to change before chapter 1 releases.

Your automaton escort leads you to a set of heavy oak double doors before it turns around and appears to power down.

Okay… You suppose you are meant to take it from here, so you knock on one of the doors.

When you receive no answer, you try again. Once again, nothing.

With a sigh, you resign yourself to opening the door yourself – you were summoned here, after all. The door is as heavy as it appears, and it takes some effort for you to push it open.

You find yourself in a room significantly taller than it is wide, with a winding staircase along the wall that appears to lead to nowhere and functions simply to allow one to scale the bookshelves that line the rounded walls. It occurs to you that this room must be one of the spires you observed from outside of the palace. This room is as maximalist as it can get, with all sorts of trinkets, tools, and appliances you struggle to place the purpose of. The only decluttered space is the polished mahogany desk near the front, which has atop it a quill and inkpot, a clipboard with blank parchment, and a placard that reads “Chief Advisor Jocosa.”

Behind the desk is a high-backed chair in matching mahogany, with red velvet upholstery and a sun carved into the top of its back. A woman sits in the chair with an unreadable expression in her piercing blue eyes that seem to look right through you. Her hands are neatly folded on the desk before her, and even from where you stand you can make out their smoothness. Long, blonde braids frame each side of her soft face, cascading down over her shoulders and chest before disappearing from sight below the desk. Clad in an expensive-appearing crimson gown, the woman’s curvy frame almost appears to disappear into the red chair behind it.

You realize you’re staring, and so is she. You shift uncomfortably beneath her gaze and prepare to clear your throat when she suddenly speaks.

“Please, have a seat,” she says, gesturing to one of two low armchairs positioned in front of her desk. Her voice is smooth and melodic, as if she just wakes up and it’s ready to go.

You oblige and decide to make yourself comfortable, which comes easy given the high quality of the armchair within which you now sit. “You asked to see me?” you say.

“I did,” the woman says with a gracious nod. “We haven’t been properly introduced yet. My name is Jocosa, Chief Royal Advisor to the Sunrise Throne.”

You introduce yourself before turning down her offer for tea. “Suit yourself,” she says with a shrug and proceeds to pour herself a cup. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? As chief advisor to the throne, you and I will be seeing a lot of each other.” She brings her cup to her bright red lips and blows to cool off her tea. “I thought it only fair for you to know that I did not approve of this marriage arrangement.”

Wait, what? You’re not sure what you expected of this summons, but it certainly wasn’t this.