#i am not in love with her despite the way this is worded | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

f14fun · 3 days

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lay all your love on me - op81 (C2)

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

prose (6.1K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | series index ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

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02: Love, Sweat, and Secondhand Embarrassment

"Clemmy I swear I wanted to die that entire time. Whoever I offended in an alternate universe I am so so sorry, I truly believe karma is real now," I lamented, voice weak.

Burying my head in my pillow, I could finally appreciate the cool blast of AC (well, it was a little bit of air conditioning but a little is better than nothing) I scratched my right leg that was hoisted up onto the blue duvet cover. If not for the horrible comedic timing of everything, in that moment, I might have said that I was enjoying myself.

On the other line of the phone, thousands of miles away, it was a completely different story.

"What the fuck," Clementine could barely muster out because she was laughing so hard.

"I still don't think any part of this story is funny, Clem," I roll my eyes and trail off.

"But it is! You genuinely should consider a career in stand-up comedy. If you recounted all of this in front of a paying live audience, I'm just saying it could make you a millionaire overnight," Clementine wheezed.

"Oh, shut up, bitch," I retorted, trying to suppress a smile despite my mortification.

"You know it's true though!" Her girlish giggles rang through my room. I could see her face through the screen and it looked like visible tears were streaming down her face from how funny she found this to be.

"I am completely and utterly humiliated. There is no way I can go downstairs and face everyone right now," I whined. It was true, as twenty minutes ago, mid-Facetime with Clementine, I heard the door to the foyer open and heard a lot of new noises.

New people. The neighbors. The rest of the Australians.

Crikey, mate.

There was no way I could face them. And since Oscar was probably their son (he looked way too young to be a father) he had probably already told them about the wretched and humiliating mishap.

"Seriously, Clemmy, you don’t get it," I said, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice but failing miserably. "This is not just some embarrassing story. This is my life, and I have to face these people now."

Clementine’s laughter finally started to subside, and she took a deep breath. "Okay, okay, I get it. But you have to admit, this is a once-in-a-lifetime kind of disaster. You can’t just ignore it. It’s like the universe is telling you to embrace the chaos."

I sighed, feeling a bit more grounded with her calming tone. "Yeah, well, I’m not exactly feeling the universe’s love right now. I feel like I’ve been dropped into some kind of sitcom. And what if they think I’m a total klutz? I can’t even begin to imagine how Oscar must’ve described me."

"It'll be fine. You are a pro at handling horrible situations. I mean, I can really only think that you have had more bad experiences with guys than good ones!" Clem tried to reassure me.

"Wow, thanks," I deadpanned. "Way to make a girl feel special."

Clementine's voice was full of playful sympathy. "Hey, I’m just saying, you’ve survived everything life’s thrown at you so far. Besides, look at it this way: if they’re judging you based on this one incident, they’re missing out on getting to know the amazing person you are."

"Yeah, because nothing says 'amazing' like face-planting into a pile of shampoo and knocking over a bunch of cleaning supplies," I said, sarcasm dripping from my tone.

Clementine laughed. "Exactly! And let’s be honest, if they do judge you for this, they’re definitely not worth your time. Besides, Oscar might even think you’re charming in a clumsy, endearing kind of way. You never know."

"You should really consider a career in therapy. If I lay here and close my eyes for a bit and sleep for three hours surely your advice will work," I retorted.

"Oh be so serious with me now,"

"I am! Now I can add a new skill to my LinkedIn profile," I said, trying to stifle a giggle. "How about 'Expert in Catastrophic Bathroom Mishaps: Master of Turning Shower Encounters into Slapstick Comedy'?"

Clementine burst into laughter. “That’s quite a title! It’s like you’ve got a whole new niche market for yourself.”

“Right? I’m just waiting for the endorsement from ‘The Association of Embarrassing Bathroom Incidents,’” I said, imagining a badge with that exact title. What a big, fat, fucking joke.

“Or maybe you'll become the keynote speaker for the 'International Conference on Unexpected Water-Based Accidents,’” Clementine added, her voice full of amusement.

“I’ll make sure to include a workshop on ‘How to Survive a Bathroom Collision with Dignity and Humor,’” I said with a chuckle. “And don’t forget the seminar on ‘Turning Slip-and-Fall Disasters into Networking Opportunities.’”

“A career to consider!” Clementine laughed. “And you know what? I’ll be your first fan. Just remember to keep me updated on how your new ‘disastrous bathroom mishap’ career is going.”

“I’ll make sure to do that,” I promised with a smile. “Thanks for the laugh. It’s nice to know that even in the middle of a fiasco, I can count on you to turn it into a comedy show.”

"What can I say, I will never turn down listening to a free shit show," Clementine winked at me through the camera.

"Clem! What the hell!" I waved my manicured pointed nail at her.

"Bye! Don't die from embarrassment before you come back!" She quipped, then promptly hung up.

I lay sprawled on my bed, dreading the thought of going downstairs and facing the group of new neighbors. The whole idea made me cringe. I was just about to mentally prepare myself for the awkward introductions when a sudden knock on my door jolted me upright. My heart raced as I called out lazily, “Come in.”

The door creaked open, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw Oscar standing there. His eyebrow was raised, and he wore a cheeky grin that did nothing to ease my nerves.

"Well, well, well," he said with an amused smirk. "Looks like you’ve been having quite the chat with 'dearest Clemmy,' haven’t you?"

My face flushed beet red, and I stuttered, struggling to find my words. “W-What are you doing here?”

Oscar leaned casually against the doorframe, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Oh, you know, just overheard you and Clemmy talking about our little mishap. I believe you mentioned something about me being ‘a charming yet infuriating Aussie who managed to turn your bathroom break into a comedy skit.’”

I blinked, stunned into silence. My mouth opened and closed, but no coherent words came out. The sheer embarrassment was overwhelming. Oscar’s casual demeanor and his cheeky grin only made things worse.

“What can I say, my name was called,” Oscar continued with a mischievous glint in his eye. “If someone keeps calling you hot, I mean, wouldn’t you be too curious to listen?”

His smirk only made my breath hitch and my fingers tremble a little more. I could feel my cheeks burning, and I struggled to come up with a response. The playful glint in his eye and his casual attitude did nothing to alleviate my embarrassment. Instead, they only made me feel more flustered.

I took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “W-Well, I guess I didn’t think anyone would be actually listening.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow playfully, his smirk widening. “Oh, I’m sure you didn’t. But it was too good to pass up. Especially the part where you called me a ‘human wrecking ball.’”

My face flushed a deeper shade of crimson. “Great. Just great,” I muttered, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m sure I’ve made a fantastic first impression.”

Oscar chuckled, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Look, it’s all good. I’ve seen worse first impressions. Trust me. At least you didn’t accidentally set off the fire alarm or flood the place.”

I managed a weak smile, still feeling the sting of embarrassment. “Yeah, well, I’ll try to keep any future disasters to a minimum.”

Look at me, constantly embarrassing myself in front of hot guys. This was the exact reason why I was still bitchless and socially awkward at the ripe age of twenty-one. I could navigate a spreadsheet like a pro, ace exams, and even master the perfect contour, but put me in a room with a cute guy, and I turned into a walking calamity.

I sighed internally, already dreading the inevitable teasing I’d get from Clemmy once she found out I had, yet again, failed to keep my cool around a guy. Maybe I should’ve just stayed in the bathroom and let the ground swallow me whole.

Oscar raised an eyebrow, studying me with a curious look. “You know, you seem like a completely different person right now. Way quieter, more shy… less daring.”

My face flushed with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. “That’s not true,” I snapped, crossing my arms defensively. “I’m exactly the same as I was before.”

Oscar’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on me. “Sure, if you say so. But the girl who almost took me down like a rugby player in the bathroom seemed a lot more fearless.”

My nose flared as I shot him a glare, feeling the fire of indignation rise within me. Who did he think he was, making assumptions about me? I’ll show him just how brave I can be, I thought, my fists clenching. If he wanted to see daring, then I’d make sure he regretted ever doubting me. The nerve of this guy! He might have been hot, but that didn’t give him the right to push my buttons like this.

Oscar gave me a lopsided grin, clearly pleased with himself. "Anyway, everyone’s heading downstairs to meet each other. Figured I’d let you know, since, you know, it’s probably not the best idea to hide out up here forever."

My stomach twisted with nerves at the thought of facing everyone after that humiliating encounter. The idea of meeting new people while still reeling from my disastrous introduction to Oscar was daunting. But there was no way I was going to let him see how nervous I actually was. I took a deep breath, nodding stiffly. "Fine, let’s get this over with."

As we walked out of the room and toward the stairs, I could feel Oscar’s presence behind me—large, imposing, and annoyingly close. My face heated up, and I silently cursed myself for blushing yet again. Why did this guy have to make everything so difficult?

It was like shooting a sitting duck. A little small talk, a smile, and baby, I was stuck. I was a grown woman, for god’s sake, not some teenager swooning over a crush. But there I was, getting flustered over a guy I barely knew. Get a grip, I told myself, trying to shake off the absurdity of the situation. This wasn’t supposed to happen—I wasn’t supposed to be this easily charmed.

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I hesitated, gripping the railing a little longer than usual. I could feel Oscar’s gaze on me, and it only made my nerves worse. Just as I was about to take the first step down, his hand brushed against mine. The contact was brief but enough to send a jolt of awareness through me. His hand was rough with calluses, moderately enveloping mine in a way that felt both comforting and disarming.

What was it about this guy that made me feel so uncharacteristically off-balance? As I tried to steady my racing thoughts, I reminded myself that I had to keep it together. After all, I wasn’t about to let some smooth-talking Aussie turn me into a lovesick fool—no matter how much my traitorous heart seemed to enjoy the challenge.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, my eyes were drawn to two adults who were deep in conversation with my mom. Their warm, friendly demeanor and unmistakable Australian accents told me they were Oscar’s parents. They seemed just as lively and outgoing as he was, which only added to the strangeness of this entire situation.

Then, I spotted Oscar’s siblings—a trio of sisters who looked like carbon copies of him, yet each had her own distinct vibe, like different fonts of the same typeface. They were laughing and joking with each other, their bond evident in the way they effortlessly engaged in light-hearted banter. I felt a pang of envy, wishing I had siblings to share that kind of closeness with.

My daydream was abruptly shattered when Oscar’s large, warm hand clasped onto my shoulder, his fingers pressing gently but firmly against my skin. The unexpected touch sent a jolt through me, making me jump slightly as a flush of heat rushed to my cheeks. His chuckle, deep and amused, rumbled behind me, the sound wrapping around me like a teasing caress. He was standing on the step just above me, close enough that I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. His presence was unmistakably felt—broad, solid, and way too close for comfort, yet somehow not close enough.

His fingers lingered on my shoulder, almost as if he was testing my reaction, and I could feel the warmth radiating from his touch, seeping into my skin. The space between us seemed to shrink with every passing second, and I could barely concentrate on anything but the weight of his hand and the steady beat of my heart hammering in my chest.

Oscar leaned in slightly, his voice low and smooth as honey. “Jumpier than I thought,” he drawled, his tone dripping with playful mischief. “Didn’t take you for the shy type. Especially not after our little bathroom tango.” His grin widened, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a way that was both infuriating and ridiculously charming.

My pulse quickened at the way he was looking at me—those eyes sparkling with amusement, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. I swallowed hard, my mind racing to come up with a retort, but all I could focus on was how his hand, still resting on my shoulder, felt both protective and possessive. The air between us crackled with a tension that was impossible to ignore, and I had to remind myself to breathe.

I could quite literally cut the sexual tension with the dullest fucking butterknife in the world.

I tried to muster a sharp retort, something that would wipe that smug grin off his face, but my brain was too busy short-circuiting to cooperate. All I could manage was a stuttered, “I-I’m not shy! You just—caught me off guard, that’s all.” The words tumbled out, weak and unconvincing, and I mentally cringed at how feeble they sounded.

Oscar’s grin only grew, clearly enjoying my flustered state. He leaned in a little closer, his gaze locked on mine with a playful intensity that made my heart skip a beat. “Off guard, huh?” he murmured, his voice dipping lower. “So, you’re saying if I hadn’t surprised you, you’d be able to keep up?”

I opened my mouth to respond, determined to regain some semblance of dignity, but nothing clever came out. Instead, I just stood there, caught between wanting to pull away from his teasing and feeling inexplicably drawn to his warmth. His hand slid from my shoulder, and the absence of his touch left a surprising chill in its wake.

Realizing that my window for a comeback was closing, I finally managed to sputter, “Y-Yeah, exactly.” I immediately cursed myself for sounding so pathetic. Not exactly the sharp comeback I was hoping for. His smirk deepened, and I could tell he wasn’t buying it for a second.

“Sure, whatever you say,” Oscar replied, his tone still dripping with amusement. He straightened up, giving me a quick wink before stepping down to the next stair. The playful glint in his eyes told me he knew exactly how much he was getting under my skin, and he was loving every second of it.

As he moved past me, I finally found my voice—too little, too late—and muttered under my breath, “Cocky bastard.” But it was quiet enough that I hoped he didn’t hear it. To my dismay, Oscar paused, turning back with a raised eyebrow and an even wider grin.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Care to repeat it?”

My cheeks flamed as I quickly shook my head. “Nope, nothing. Let’s just… go meet everyone.”

Oscar’s grin didn’t falter as he took a step closer, still looming above me. “You know,” he began, his voice casual but with that familiar teasing edge, “I’ve already met everyone else. Your mom, too. And I’ve gotta say, you two seem like complete opposites.”

I blinked up at him, caught off guard again. “Opposites?”

He nodded, leaning against the wall with that effortless ease he seemed to have perfected. “Yep. Your mom’s all smiles and warm welcomes. You, on the other hand… well, you’ve got this whole ‘ready to throw punches’ vibe going on.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to gauge whether he was being serious or just messing with me again. “I do not have a ‘ready to throw punches’ vibe.”

Oscar’s lips twitched like he was holding back a laugh. “Oh, you totally do. But don’t worry,” he added with a playful smirk, “it’s kind of endearing. Keeps things interesting.”

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. “Glad to know I’m so entertaining for you.”

He shrugged, unfazed. “Hey, I’m just saying, opposites attract, right? Besides, your mom already likes me. You could take a few notes.”

His comment sent a fresh wave of warmth to my cheeks, both from irritation and something I couldn’t quite place. “I don’t need notes from you,” I shot back, though my voice lacked its usual bite.

Oscar just chuckled, giving me one last teasing wink before turning to head down the stairs. “Whatever you say, mate. Just try not to tackle anyone else while you’re at it.”

"Well well well, what do we have here?" A girl with short hair and a devious grin matching Oscar's grinned at me as well entered the kitchen. Shimmering her hands like "jazz hands", she rolled her eyes and rested her chin in the palm of her hand.

I turned to face the new arrival, immediately recognizing her as one of Oscar’s sisters—one of the three siblings who seemed to share his penchant for mischief. Her cropped hair and sharp, playful eyes made her look like she’d just stepped out of a rom-com where she was the resident troublemaker, always stirring the pot and having a laugh at everyone else’s expense.

“Hey, party people,” she said, her voice dripping with a teasing lilt. She shot me a grin that was almost a mirror image of Oscar’s, mischievous and knowing, like she was in on some inside joke I hadn’t been let in on yet. I could feel the same heat from before creeping up my neck. Why did it feel like these siblings were reading me like an open book?

“Looks like someone’s already made a grand entrance,” she continued, flicking her eyes between me and Oscar with an amused smirk. “Oscar’s been talking about you nonstop since we got here. Said something about a ‘bathroom fiasco’ that deserves an award?”

I shot a glare at Oscar, who was leaning casually against the counter, looking far too pleased with himself. “Did he now?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the mortification clawing at me.

The girl laughed, light and musical, but with an edge that told me she was fully enjoying every bit of this. “Oh yeah, he’s been filling us in. But don’t worry, we’re used to his tall tales. I’m Hattie, by the way,” she added, extending a hand with exaggerated enthusiasm as if we were meeting on the set of a game show rather than in my kitchen.

I hesitated for a beat before shaking her hand, trying to muster a smile that didn’t look too forced. “Nice to meet you, Hattie. I’m—”

“Oh, I know who you are,” she interrupted, her grin widening. “You’re the girl who almost took out my brother. Honestly, I’m impressed. No one’s ever managed to knock him off his game quite like that.”

I glanced at Oscar, who was watching the exchange with an infuriatingly smug look on his face. Maisie’s comment hung in the air, both a compliment and a lighthearted jab. I couldn’t help but feel like I was once again the butt of some inside joke between the siblings.

“Yeah, well, it’s a special talent of mine,” I said, trying to sound casual but feeling like every word was being scrutinized. “Guess I just have that effect.”

Hattie laughed, the sound bright and unapologetically amused. “Oh, I like you already. But hey, if you’re gonna hang out with us, you better be ready for a little friendly chaos. And maybe a few more unexpected collisions.”

Oscar gave a soft snort of laughter, and I could feel his eyes still on me, assessing, teasing, and—annoyingly—almost impressed. I tried to ignore the butterflies that seemed to be staging a full-on rebellion in my stomach. Clearly, this family thrived on playful torment, and I had somehow found myself right in the middle of it.

“Don’t worry,” I said, straightening up and forcing a confident smile. “I think I can handle whatever you guys throw at me.”

Hattie's eyes sparkled with mischief, and she gave me a mock salute. “That’s the spirit. Welcome to the chaos, mate.”

Oscar chuckled again, giving me that damn wink before pushing off from the counter. “Oh, she’s ready for it. Trust me, she’s already made quite the impression.”

The other two girls strolled in, each with their own distinct energy that filled the room. One had a fierce, confident look, dark hair tied up in a messy bun, and a leather jacket that screamed ‘cooler-than-you’ vibes. The youngest, a curly-haired, bright-eyed whirlwind, practically bounced into the kitchen, her infectious smile lighting up the space.

“So,” I said, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sudden influx of new faces. “I’ve met Oscar, obviously, and… Hattie, right?” I glanced at the girl who had first greeted me, who nodded with a playful smile. “But I’m afraid I haven’t gotten your names yet,” I continued, pointing between the other two sisters.

The girl with the leather jacket gave me a wry grin, leaning casually against the counter. “I’m Edie,” she said, her voice dripping with casual confidence. “The cooler, smarter middle child.”

Mae, the youngest, immediately chimed in, rolling her eyes at her sister. “And I’m Mae, the fun one,” she said with a giggle, her curls bouncing as she hopped up onto a stool. “Edie’s just mad she wasn’t born with my charm.”

Edie snorted, pretending to be offended. “Please, you’re like a tiny tornado of chaos. But yeah, I guess she’s not wrong,” she added, shooting me a smirk. “Mae’s got a way of making everything a little… livelier.”

I couldn’t help but smile at their playful back-and-forth. “Nice to officially meet you all. And thanks for the heads-up on your brother’s antics,” I said, glancing at Oscar, who was watching the exchange with an amused glint in his eye.

“Oh, trust me,” Hattie added, her grin widening as she nudged Oscar with her elbow. “We’ve got years of experience keeping this one in line. You’re welcome to join the effort.”

Oscar threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Wow, ganging up on me already? This is why I never bring girls home,” he joked, though there was a hint of genuine warmth in his voice, like he was more than used to—and secretly enjoyed—their teasing.

Mae leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just wait till we start telling you all the embarrassing stories. Oscar’s got quite a few, and we’ve got no problem spilling the tea.”

Oscar smirked, shifting his weight just enough to close the distance between us, his presence suddenly feeling a lot closer, a lot warmer. He leaned in with a casual ease, his movements smooth and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world to make me squirm. His voice dropped into a playful, low tone, rich and velvety, each word dripping with deliberate charm. “Oh, don’t worry about them,” he murmured, his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. “I’d much rather hear your stories. You’re far more interesting than anything they could say about me.”

The way he looked at me was like I was the only person in the room, his eyes lingering on mine with a bold, flirtatious glint that sent a shiver down my spine. His grin was maddeningly confident, a little crooked, and devastatingly irresistible—the kind of smile that made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing. It was teasing, suggestive, and far too charming for its own good, like he was daring me to blush, daring me to react.

I felt the heat creeping up my neck, a slow burn that spread across my cheeks, making my skin prickle with the sudden awareness of how close he was. My mind scrambled for something clever to say, but his flirtatious tone, the way his eyes roved over my face as if he was reading every reaction, left me tongue-tied. It was like he was peeling back layers with just a look, searching for the part of me that he could fluster with a few well-placed words and that infuriating smile.

I tried to steady my breath, but his proximity was overwhelming. I could catch the faint scent of his cologne—fresh, with a hint of something spicy—and the subtle shift of his body as he leaned closer sent my senses into overdrive. Every nerve seemed to hum in response to his nearness, and I could feel my face burning hotter, betraying me with every second that I failed to look away.

Edie made a gagging noise, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Ew, Oscar, seriously? Can you not flirt for like five seconds? It’s embarrassing.”

Mae giggled, giving Oscar a playful shove. “Yeah, gross. No one wants to see that. Save it for when we’re not around, Romeo.”

Hattie snorted, shaking her head as she watched Oscar with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “He’s always like this. Thinks he’s Mr. Smooth. Don’t let him get to you.”

But Oscar only chuckled, clearly unfazed by his sisters’ teasing. He turned back to me, his grin widening as he caught sight of my flushed cheeks. “Aww, look at that,” he said, his voice soft and teasing. “Did I make you blush? How cute.”

I quickly tried to hide my face, mortification bubbling up as I realized there was no escaping the heat radiating from my cheeks. “N-No, you didn’t,” I stammered, though the pink tint on my face said otherwise.

Oscar’s smirk deepened, and he leaned in just a little closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not very good at hiding it, you know. It’s kind of endearing.”

I could practically feel my cheeks getting even more red, if that was even possible. His sisters snickered behind us, enjoying the show as much as they enjoyed tormenting him.

Mae nudged Hattie, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear, “He’s really laying it on thick, huh? Someone needs to put a leash on this one.”

Hattie snickered and turned to me, giving me an exaggeratedly sympathetic look. “Don’t worry, he does this to everyone. It’s part of his ‘charm offensive.’ Just don’t let him get away with it too easily.”

“Yeah, make him work for it,” Edie added with a laugh. “And don’t let that blush fool you. He’s got enough of an ego without you feeding it.”

Oscar just shrugged, clearly unbothered by his sisters’ ribbing. He kept his eyes on me, his smile softening just slightly. “They’re just jealous because they know I’m right. You really are something else.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to fight the smile that was creeping onto my face despite my best efforts. “You’re impossible,” I muttered, crossing my arms in an attempt to compose myself.

Oscar leaned back, finally giving me a bit of space but not without one last wink. “Impossible’s my specialty,” he said, the playful challenge hanging in the air.

Hattie clapped her hands together, breaking the charged silence that had wrapped around us. “Alright, lovebirds, let’s change the scene before this kitchen gets any steamier,” she said with a sly grin, glancing between Oscar and me. “What do you say we all head out to the pool? It’s hot as hell today, and I could use a swim.”

Mae’s eyes lit up at the suggestion, and she bounced on her toes with excitement. “Yes, please! I’ve been dying to jump in all morning. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Edie shrugged, pushing off the counter. “Sounds like a plan. Beats sitting around here watching Oscar make a fool of himself,” she said, shooting her brother a pointed look that he brushed off with a careless smirk.

I hesitated, caught off guard by the sudden change in plans. The thought of the pool—cool water, bright sun, and lounging with these new, vibrant personalities—was tempting, but my mind immediately jumped to what that would mean: changing into a bikini, being under the sun's scrutiny, and, worse, the idea of Oscar’s eyes on me again, but this time with even less to hide behind.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” I said, trying to sound casual, though my heart was starting to race for an entirely different reason now. “Just give me a minute to get changed.”

As I slipped back into my room, I rummaged through my suitcase, finding the bright bikini I had packed on a whim but hadn’t quite planned on wearing in front of a whole audience of strangers. It was a pretty number—a little more revealing than I was used to—but suddenly, the idea of wearing it around Oscar felt daunting. My insecurities bubbled up: the nagging thoughts of whether my stomach was flat enough, if my thighs looked alright, or if the faint stretch marks I tried so hard to ignore would be too noticeable under the bright afternoon sun.

I took a deep breath, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I tugged at the fabric, trying to adjust it in a way that made me feel more comfortable, but the nerves wouldn’t settle. I could already imagine Oscar’s eyes lingering on me, his playful smirk turning into something more appraising, and the thought sent a rush of heat to my cheeks. God, why was I letting this get to me? It was just a pool. Just a bikini. Just Oscar. But the more I tried to rationalize, the more those little fears crept in, whispering doubts that made my stomach churn.

I was so lost in my own thoughts, adjusting and readjusting the strings and trying to silence the negative self-talk, that I nearly jumped out of my skin when a sudden knock rattled my door. My heart leaped into my throat, and I spun around, my breath catching as I called out, “W-Who is it?”

“It’s me,” came Oscar’s familiar voice, muffled but still clear enough to send a jolt of nerves through me. “Just checking to see if you’re alright in there. You’ve been quiet, and, well, didn’t want you chickening out on us.”

His tone was light, but there was something softer in it, something that caught me off guard. It wasn’t the usual teasing or the cocky one-liners I’d grown accustomed to in the short time I’d known him. This felt… genuine. A flicker of concern threaded through his words, almost like he actually cared if I was okay. My cheeks flushed anew, this time from the unexpected warmth of his attention rather than embarrassment.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my cover-up as I tried to piece together my swirling thoughts. Was this the same Oscar who had been smirking at me in the kitchen, flirting shamelessly in front of his sisters? The same Oscar who seemed to relish every moment he made me blush or stumble over my words? It was strange, almost disarming, to hear him like this—concerned, attentive, with none of his usual bravado.

My heart fluttered at the thought. What if there was more to him than just the cheeky guy who lived for teasing? I couldn’t help but feel a small, unexpected tug in my chest, an urge to believe that this side of him was real and not just some act. But then, just as quickly, my rational side kicked in, reminding me that I’d known Oscar for all of three hours, most of which had been spent flustered and caught up in his whirlwind of charm.

Was I reading too much into this? Was I letting my own insecurities and wishful thinking color my perception of him? It was hard not to, especially when he swung so easily between flirty and sincere, keeping me constantly off-balance. I barely knew this guy, yet here I was, letting my mind wander into dangerous territory, imagining depth and sincerity that might not even be there.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady my thoughts. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions—didn’t want to let a few kind words make me think I’d seen some hidden side of him. But it was hard not to feel flustered when his voice had softened like that, when he’d taken the time to check on me instead of just joking about how long I was taking.

The knock on my door, the concern in his tone—it all felt so different from the playful Oscar who’d swaggered into my life just a few hours ago. Maybe it was nothing, just a moment of decency, a brief glimpse of something real behind the jokes and teasing. Or maybe I was just overthinking, desperate to see something more in him because he’d managed to get under my skin in a way I wasn’t quite prepared for.

I sighed, feeling my cheeks heat up once more as the realization hit me—I was blushing again, and not just from embarrassment this time. There was something about Oscar, something that made me want to believe he was more than the carefree charmer he projected. But whether that was true or just wishful thinking, I couldn’t be sure. Not yet.

“I-I’m fine!” I called back, trying to steady my voice, but it came out shaky, betraying the mix of anxiety and embarrassment that had settled in my chest. “Just… getting ready.”

There was a pause on the other side of the door, long enough that I thought he might have walked away. But then, Oscar’s voice cut through again, softer this time, and with a teasing edge. “You sure? I promise no one’s gonna judge you out there. Least of all me.”

The reassurance felt sincere, but I couldn’t help the way my mind raced with all the what-ifs. What if he did look? What if I didn’t look good enough? What if this stupid bikini made me feel more exposed than I could handle? I glanced at myself one last time in the mirror, trying to summon the confidence that I usually wore so easily, but right now felt like it was hiding somewhere I couldn’t reach.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I finally managed, forcing a smile I hoped he couldn’t hear through the door. “Just... give me a sec. I’ll be right out.”

“Take your time,” Oscar said, his voice fading as he finally moved away from the door. “But don’t take too long. You don’t wanna miss the fun.”

As his footsteps retreated, I let out a shaky breath, trying to collect myself. I ran a hand through my hair, giving myself one last pep talk before heading out. It was just a pool day, I reminded myself. Just a stupid pool day with some new people and a guy who was way too good at making me blush. And maybe, just maybe, it would be fun—if I could get out of my own head long enough to let it be.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

taglist! @mingyusbigrighttoe @theblueblub @demandealalune @linnygirl09

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isaacarellanesismyhusband · 1 day

Text

i'll be here when you come back

pair: Fred Weasley x reader

requested by anonymous

Ok so I had this really really cute and fluffy idea while watching Order of The Phoenix So it's Fred Weasley x reader and when the twins go and do their firework show when they leave Fred quickly stops and goes over to reader and finally admits to how much he loves her and how he's been in love with her for awhile and then they finally get together and kiss before he leaves Ahhhhh this is so cute and could reader be a Slytherin since I'm a Slytherin

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❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

The hall was in chaos. Fireworks shot through the Great Hall as Fred and George Weasley’s grand exit unfolded. Students cheered, dodging sparklers and colorful explosions. Among them, Y/N watched with wide eyes, a half-smile tugging at her lips. As a Slytherin, she wasn’t supposed to enjoy their antics, but how could she resist? Especially when it came to Fred.

Her heart pounded harder than usual, and it wasn’t just from the chaos. She'd been harboring feelings for Fred Weasley for what felt like forever, but she’d convinced herself he’d never feel the same. After all, why would a Gryffindor prankster fall for a Slytherin like her?

But then, something strange happened. While George was causing a distraction, Fred’s gaze darted around the room. Then, almost as if pulled by an invisible force, he ran straight toward Y/N.

"Fred?" she muttered under her breath, confused as he weaved through the crowd toward her. Her heart skipped a beat.

Before she could say anything else, Fred stopped in front of her, his breath heavy but his eyes filled with that playful spark she’d come to love. "Y/N," he said, his voice loud enough to be heard over the fireworks but soft in its own way.

Her heart raced. "What are you doing? You’re supposed to be making your grand escape!" she teased, trying to keep her voice steady despite the nervous butterflies fluttering inside her.

Fred grinned, but it wasn’t his usual mischievous smile. This one was softer, more genuine. "I am. But first, I had to tell you something."

Y/N blinked, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. "What?"

Fred looked at her like the chaos of the hall had faded away, and it was just the two of them. "I've been in love with you for a while now," he admitted, his voice cracking slightly, though his eyes held her steady. "I couldn’t leave without telling you that."

Her heart stopped. Everything else in the hall disappeared, and it was just her and Fred. The boy she'd been dreaming of, admitting the one thing she never thought she'd hear.

"You... you what?" she whispered, still in disbelief.

Fred chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I love you, Y/N. Have for ages. I just couldn’t leave without telling you. I mean, how dumb would that be?"

For a moment, she was speechless. But then, with all the courage she could muster, she reached up, cupping his face. "You idiot," she whispered, grinning. "I love you too."

Fred's eyes widened, and before either of them could say another word, he closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to hers. It was a kiss that felt like it had been waiting forever, filled with the excitement, relief, and affection they’d both been holding back.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, but their smiles were wider than ever.

Fred gave her hand a squeeze, a lingering look of regret crossing his face. "I have to go now, but—"

Y/N nodded, her heart lighter than it had ever been. "Go," she said softly, giving him a small smile. "I'll be here when you come back."

Fred grinned. "You'd better be," he teased, his eyes twinkling. Then, with one last kiss on her forehead, he turned and ran off to join George, disappearing into the chaos.

Y/N stood there, her fingers brushing over her lips, still feeling the warmth of Fred's kiss. The fireworks still crackled above, but all she could focus on was the fact that Fred Weasley—her Fred—loved her.

#isaacismyhusbandeventhohedoesntknowityet #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #fluff #fred weasley #fred #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader fluff #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x slytherin reader

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mustainegf · 10 hours

Note

so like you and Dave anre dating and y'all are at your parents house and you need to keep the door open so yall don't get freaky but its a 2 story house and your room is on the 2nd floor and the parents are downstairs doing wtv in the living room so y'all start getting freaky and he uses his hand or fingers or a pillow or smth to keep you qiet bc its ROUGH and then your mom calls from down stairs if you guys want anything and Dave makes you try and answer her and its so hard to bc you just keep moaning and trying not to bc bro is still thrusting into you and WONT stop and maybe y'all get caught maybe y'all don't that's up to you sorry if this was hyper specific or anything just a rally hot idea I had

AHHH this is such a dave request I absolutely love it

𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐇 ¹⁹⁸⁴

I am standing in my bedroom; the door is slightly ajar, as agreed upon. My heart pounds against my chest like a caged animal. The wait is almost unbearable. I hear his heavy breathing fill the room, sending tingle through my whole body.

He leans over me, his lean body against mine, the warm breath makes my little hairs stand up. "Remember," he whispers, "keep the noise down… Your parents may hear." And with that said, he pushed into me, his throbbing length filling me completely within seconds.

I gasp, his length stretches me wide. He thrusts inside me, each deeper than the last. Relentless, his hips drive us both to that point. My moans have somehow escaped despite my silent treatment. It just feels too good.

His hand comes up and clamps over my mouth, covering my cries of pleasure. But even with his hand over and partially blocking the sound, there's no way in hell for me to stifle the soft whimpers that manage to slip out between his fingers. With each deep push inside, my whole body shakes from that one blast.

I can feel my walls constricting around him, readying for release. Each thrust sends raptures of ecstasy coursing through me, harder and harder to restrain.

The creaky door groans with a sudden draft blowing beneath it, but fortunately, we are far enough from the stairs that the noise might not travel very far. His hand tightens on my mouth, forcing more muffled noises from my lips. He's ruthless, pumped without mercy.

Then, a voice floats up from downstairs. "Guys? You need anything?" It’s my mom, calling up to check on us…

Dave freezes midway into thrust, his eyes wide in panic. We stare at one another a sec, our hearts racing. Then he nods toward the door, silently urging me to respond before she gets suspicious.

I take a deep breath, trying to still my voice. "Nah, Mom-no thanks!" I call out, hoping she doesn't catch the strain in my tone. "We're okay!"

Just as those words leave my lips, Dave picks up exactly where he left off, moving again. The instant hardness catches me in the back of my mouth, and I bite down on my lip to not make a bad noise to give away a possible situation.

The feeling brews inside me until I can hardly think. His hands wander my body, squishing my breasts and pinching my nipples. He grunts low at each thrust, his muscles tense beneath his skin.

My legs wrap around him like instinct, tugging him closer and deeper. His cock pulses inside me.

He pulls back abruptly, leaving me hollow and wanting, smirking down at me. "You like that, huh?" he teases, rubbing the head of his thick cock along my slippery folds. His laughter is wicked.

I whimper, reaching up to grab onto his shoulders for support. "Please." I beg, my voice shaking with desire. "Davie… Don't tease me."

Instead, he drags his length across my sensitive clit, flicking that long gingery hair back.

The air glues in my throat as he circles around my swollen bud, teasing me without apology.

Without any more, he slips back into me, harder and quicker than before. The sudden fullness has me writhing.

My moan reverberated off the walls of the room. Dave promptly slapped his hand over my mouth once more. This time, he successfully muffled the rest of my cry. His eyes glinted into mine, burning with lustful intention.

"Fuck, look at you," Dave growls low. "You just can't stop moaning, can you?"

Without warning, he flips me over onto my belly. I whine out in surprise, but his hand pressing down on the back of my head mutes the sound into the pillow.

He gets back behind me, spreading my thighs wide with force. Then, in one mighty thrust, he slips himself back deep inside.

Dave leaned down to whisper in my ear. “I know… I know… you know I love to hear your pretty moans, baby…”

The new angle has him hitting spots that shot stars through my cloudy vision.

“We’ve just gotta be careful this time…”

But all I can do is push back against him while trying to muffle my moans into the pillow.

Mom's voice comes again from downstairs. "Everything okay up there?" she calls out, sounding concerned.

I swallow hard, trying to compose myself. "Yeah—! everything's f-fine," I say, trying to keep my voice from vibrating.

But Dave won't slow down. He holds onto my hips so tightly, pressing his tip to my cervix with every stroke, and it takes all of my power to stay on top of my game. I clench down on the pillow, struggling not to scream out another loud moan.

My words are broken and strained. "M-Mom, we're good. Just… reading."

Dave snickers, his hands clenching on my hips harder, likely leaving marks. He knows exactly what he's doing to me, and he's loving every second of it.

"Alright sweetie, if you're sure," Mom replies, like she believes my answer. "Let me know if you need anything."

With a final groan, Dave at the peak. His body stiffens, and a few more hard thrusts and he lets his cum shoot inside me, the gooey seed coating my walls. The warmth of his release brings on my own orgasm.

I whined, unable to hold any more fun in my mouth. "Okay, M-mom!" I sharp panted, not even trying to be comprehensible anymore.

Dave slumps onto me, heavy, panting, still buried inside me. "Damn," he grinds out low in his throat. "That was close too."

Neither of us moved nor twitched for several moments afterward. We remained right there, catching our breath, melting like warm butter.

Slowly, carefully, Dave pulls out of me. It leaves me momentarily empty and cold, but only for a fleeting second. As he withdrew, a trickle of his cum slipped out of me and ran its course down my inner thigh.

Dave looks down between us, at the evidence of our sex, a smirk pasted on his lips. "Looks like you're leaking everywhere, doll," he teases.

I roll onto my back, looking at him with a lazy smile. "You made quite the mess.”

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princess-geek · 2 days

Text

White Peonies (Part II)

Book: Desire & Decorum

Series: Unspoken Desires (Modern Desire & Decorum AU)

Summary: Another peek into the past, this time to lift the veil on Mary’s life and three generations of fascinating women of the Howard family. (Parte I here)

Main Pairing: Vincent Foredale x Mary Howard.

Word Count: +/- 7572 words

Rating: General (but with light mentions to adult/violent situations, sickness and death).

Notes: 💖English is not my first language. Please, excuse me for any typos /or grammatical errors. 💖Special thanks to @rosesnink for proofreading.

💖 This is my submission for @choicesficwriterscreations ‘Fics of the week’

On the previous chapter...

Hurting her finger, Mary snatched the ring and threw it at him. Her hand was bleeding, but what were a few scratches on a finger compared with the abyss that he had opened in her heart?

Vincent took the ring from the floor. “Mary, my love, please, don’t do this.”

“Don’t dare to call me that ever again! Get out of my house! Now!”

Vincent did as she had told him. Tears ran down his face as he collected his belongings. She couldn't look at him.

As soon as he closed the door, Mary collapsed, crying her pain and screaming her fury.

The young woman lost count of the hours she spent in that dark hole. When Mary came to her senses, she looked out the window and saw that it was a starry night.

Her whole body hurt. As for her heart, Mary wasn't sure if it was there or not. She felt frozen. With great effort, she dragged herself from the floor to the sofa, covering herself with a blanket forgotten on the floor. It was impossible to return to the same bed where hours before they had worshipped each other and pledged their love.

Mary didn't know if she had slept or not, but in the morning, she felt desperately hungry, despite not feeling like eating. She tried to eat a couple of biscuits; however, her stomach didn’t hold them for long.

At some point in the day, she heard Vincent at her door. He stayed there for hours, begging her to listen to him. Fortunately, a neighbour threatened to call the police if he didn't leave, and Vincent eventually did. This happened repeatedly all week.

For days, Mary barely moved from the couch. When her tears dried up until the next round, lethargy took over her.

Around the weekend, Mrs. Lemay could persuade Mary to open the door. Although she had not read the article on Sunday, articles about the upcoming wedding multiplied in the newspapers over the week.

She found her friend a wreck. Mrs. Lemay was not going to allow the young girl to sink into heartbreak. She made Mary have a bath, changed the bedsheets, and cooked her a proper dinner.

“Luckily, there is not a word about you. At least, you will not be publicly persecuted by this shadow forever.” Mrs. Lemay tried to console her.

“Screw my reputation.” Mary mumbled between spoons of soup.

“Vincent was in my office looking for you, desperate for any information about your whereabouts.”

“Screw him too! He was at my door several times. I am not interested in anything he has to say.”

Thinking that it might bring Mary some peace, Mrs. Lemay told her that there were rumours going around that the Foredale were broke and the marriage was purely a business deal, despite the excitement about the engagement in the magazines.

“She’s a fat cat widow. It’s the tale as old as time: She gives the money, and he gives the title.” Mrs. Lemay concluded.

“It's always nice to know I am worth less than a couple of thousand pounds.”

“If the rumours are true, he is being sold as a horse. It’s a pity.” Mary mumbled something unintelligible. “I know you are hurt and furious, I’d be too.” Mrs. Lemay continued. “Nevertheless, this is all very odd, Mary. Vincent is in love with you in a way I've seen few people in love with someone. Since that night at St. James's, I have seen nothing in him but devotion to you. He'd rather lose an arm than make a scratch on you. I can't stop thinking there has to be a reasonable explanation for this.”

“Of course there is. In that case, there are thousands of reasons… in her bank account.” Mary sulked.

“He was not convinced when I claimed I couldn't help him. I’m sure he will keep trying to reach you, and I think you should give him a chance to explain himself. You might regret it if you don't,” Mrs. Lemay insisted.

“He betrayed my trust in him. I think I would rather have caught him in bed with her than this circus. He has been playing with me for months, like I was a doll. I won't be his or anyone else's doll.” Mary was adamant.

“Anger and pain are not good advisors. You need to clear your head. Why don't you go spend a few days in your hometown? Some days away from London will help you organise your head and heart.”

“I will not change my mind.”

“You may not change your mind, but you need to think about what you're going to do from now on. Life doesn't stop just because your heart is broken.”

Following her advice, Mary decided to spend a few weeks in Grovershire.

Mrs. Lemay was right. Leaving London didn't glue the pieces of her heart together. However, focusing on making repairs to her grandparents' cottage and garden made Mary find some serenity in the midst of the chaos.

That house was full of so many good memories that even sadness gave her some respite.

While she was cleaning up things in the kitchen, Mary found her grandmother's handmade 'Moka'. It was one of the few things that Elena had brought with her from Italy.

“I only had three things in my suitcase: an old coat, the 'Moka' and the recipe book that I stole from my mother.” Elena told her granddaughter many times.

When she was a little girl, Mary fascinatedly watched her grandmother prepare coffee there, as if it were a magical ritual. Her favourite part was sucking on the spoon after Elena added the sugar.

It was the best coffee in the world, and Mary could still almost taste it. She ran to the grocery store to buy coffee beans. Replicating her grandmother's ritual made her feel really good for the rest of that day.

Grovershire itself had little changed. Mary missed many familiar faces and came face-to-face with new ones in the neighbourhood.

The new and old neighbours were curious about her extended stay, and, of course, theories about it soon emerged through the inhabitant’s small talk. To avoid uncomfortable questions, Mary said that her fiancé, Vincent Ford, had died in a car accident, and she was spending some time there to get herself together.

Although it was a hoax, for her it was not entirely a lie. She really felt that the man she loved had died on that day.

Right across the street, George Daly, her former classmate and neighbour, had married Pavarti, an Indian girl who had arrived there in their final year of high school.

They weren't very close at that time, yet Pavarti was the first to go to the cottage to visit her. Although she was in the last trimester of her pregnancy, Pavarti helped in whatever way she could, especially in the garden.

Between pulling weeds and planting flowers, there was time for long conversations. A deep friendship blossomed between the two young women. Pavarti was the only one who knew the truth about Vincent.

George spent many days away because of his work, so it was common for them to cook together. One late afternoon, Pavarti was cooking dinner. Mary suddenly left the kitchen, without saying a word. Pavarti found her on the balcony.

“If you don't feel like my fish curry and chips, just say so, you don’t need to run away from my kitchen. I have some roast lamb from the weekend in the fridge...”

“I'm sorry, Pavarti, but I think I'll have dinner. I think the tea house's chocolate cake wasn't as fresh as it should have been.”

“Are you sure it was just the chocolate cake? You barely touched it. In fact, you have barely eaten.”

“Nerves are bad for my stomach. It has always happened to me since I was little.”

“How long have you been feeling this way?”

“I don’t know exactly, maybe for a few weeks now. Not just the stomach. Everything in me has been messed up since...that day.” Mary still had difficulties referring to the topic.

“Have you considered the possibility of being pregnant?” Mary looked at Pavarti as if she had uttered the most absurd of statements. Parvati went away for a while and came back with a small box in her hand. “Take it! You can do it here or at home, but the sooner you know, the better.”

After spending most of the night looking at the little box, Mary did so. After the time stated in the instructions, the result appeared. She was so nervous that it took her some time to understand the meaning of the two lines.

Becoming a mother was one of Mary’s dreams. They had planned a family. They joked about having a child born in that millennium and the next in the new one. They agreed on almost everything except where they would raise them. London was off the table.

Now that dream was real, and Vincent wasn't there. And for the first time, she didn't want him there either.

This was no longer just about her and her broken heart. On the one hand, she was terrified. It was impossible not to think about her mother's case. More than raising a baby alone, Mary was afraid that something would happen and prevent her from taking care of him or her. Unfortunately, the child would not be as lucky as she was. There were no loving grandparents to watch over her. On the other hand, finding out that a child was on the way was an unexpected comfort to her. No matter what twists and turns life had on its sleeve for her, Mary wouldn't be alone anymore.

The blood tests confirmed her calculations. The baby would be born around November.

“When will you tell the father the good news?” Pavarti asked her some days later.

“I will not tell him.”

“You should, and, deep down, you know you should. Who knows, maybe this is an opportunity for the two of you to find a way...”

“If our love was not important enough for him to care and come to me and give a decent explanation for what happened, then I don't consider him important enough to be part of the baby's life.”

“You are the one who didn't want to give him that opportunity!” Pavarti tried to reason with Mary.

Mary knew she was contradicting herself, but the young woman was irreducible. Her wounded heart and pride only fuelled her stubbornness. “The wedding will be on May 2nd, do you think there is any point in doing or saying anything, Pavarti?”

Mary told Mrs. Lemay about her new situation. Although Mary's absence caused her inconvenience and money loss, she was the first to advise the singer to take a break to take care of the baby and herself.

The music producers were not very happy with the news. Even though without stating it clearly, they implied that if the baby was her priority at the moment, she would lose the 'privileged place she had on their artists’ list'.

Mary imagined that would happen. A woman with a baby was the eighth plague of Egypt. Now that she was so close, she was going back to square one.

Baby Briar came into the world on Easter Sunday, keeping her busy while Pavarti recovered from the tough labour. Around that time, the symptoms of the first few weeks gave her a truce, and Mary began to feel better.

The most difficult thing was the ban on coffee. When she felt like drinking coffee, Mary opened the ground coffee pot and smelled it until it satisfied her craving.

Days later, when trying to put on her jeans, Mary became aware of her belly for the first time. It wasn't very prominent yet, but it was already noticeable that things were changing.

By the end of the month, Mary went to London for a few days. With the wedding so close, it would be very unlikely that Vincent would be there.

She had her first ultrasound. Hearing her baby's heartbeat for the first time made her worries disappear for a few minutes. She would never forget that beat.

The midwife noticed that Mary was looking worriedly at the white spots that were appearing on the screen. “Don't worry, my dear, the baby is fine. With a little luck, within a few days, we'll be able to find out the baby's gender. Let me guess: You want a boy, and the father wants a girl.” She smiled.

Mary pretended she didn't hear the question. The midwife took her hand and placed it on her belly. “You two are already a wonderful family.”

Her savings wouldn't last forever, so Mary took the opportunity to give some concerts that Mrs. Lemay had arranged for her.

Returning to her flat after a concert, Mary found a man in a suit at her door. He was tall, had grey hair and a beard, and had a stern face. She recognised the same shade of blue as Vincent's eyes, but instead of his sweetness, Mary only saw coldness.

She instinctively covered her belly with her handbag and took a few steps back. Two men grabbed her.

“Good evening, Mary Howard. I've been looking for you everywhere. I would like to say it's a pleasure to finally meet you, but I hope this is the first and last time we meet.”

“What do you want from me?” Mary tried to free herself from their arms.

“Put her inside.” The Earl commanded.

While one grabbed Mary tightly, the other found the key and opened the door. They dragged her inside and locked the door. She tried to shout, but a hand covered her mouth.

“I thought that if I saw you with my own eyes, I would understand my son's fascination, but you are not even that pretty.” He mocked, as his eyes roamed her body. Mary noticed that he saw the bump. She felt a shiver run down her spine. “Are you with a child?” He asked. Mary didn't answer him. She could see his fury rising. “It cannot be my son’s!” Mary remained in silence. The Earl slapped her face with such force that if it weren't for the two men holding her, she would have fallen to the ground. “You damned whore, how dare you get pregnant? Wasn't it enough to be a bastard yourself? I can guess what your plan was, but this ends here!”

For few seconds, Mary could barely hear the insults he spewed from his mouth. Her mouth was still numb from the slap. She felt the taste of blood on her tongue. “My baby will never be a bastard. I will be a mother, a father, and everything my child needs!” She cried.

“I don't care what you or that creature you are carrying will be. You will disappear from my son’s life forever!”

“Breaking news, Rupert Foredale: I'm the one who wants my baby to have nothing to do with your family. Unfortunately, I couldn't prevent this child from having your blood. No baby deserves to have a father who is a coward, a cheater, and liar, and much less such a despicable being like you as a grandfather.”

The Earl was going to slap her again. Luckily, or out of charity, the bodyguards moved her out of the way of his hand.

“I never trusted people like you. With some luck, the baby isn't even Vincent's. I warned my son several times that he could have fun, but not to be foolish. I should be used to his weaknesses by now. When I was young, I also had a lover who was an artist, a sculptress. She was very skilled with her hands...for everything.” A wicked smile appeared on his lips for a moment. “She was my lover and, I later learned, the lover of every young man in London with any money in his pocket.” After saying it, Rupert took some papers from inside his coat. “Listen very carefully to what I will say to you, whore: you will sign the papers and disappear from my son's life forever. As I am a good Christian, in return, you will get 10,000 pounds. If you dare to open that mouth of yours about my son or what happened between you, you will rot in jail!”

Mary spat at the contract. “My dignity is not for sale. And, unlike you, I would never sell a child to pay for my mistakes.”

She was pushing him to the limit. The Earl was blind with rage. He wasn't used to being defied like that. Rupert tore up the agreement. He took a pistol from his pocket and placed it against Mary's forehead.

“This was your last chance. If you or your bastard ever try to get close to us, I won't be so benevolent. I will make you botg disappear from the face of the earth even if I have to do it with my own hands.”

In a matter of seconds, the lights went out, and they dropped Mary on the floor. As quickly as they had appeared, they disappeared into the night.

Mary couldn't believe what just happened. From what Vincent told her, Mary knew that Earl was not a model of kindness, not even towards his own blood. She didn't expect him to rejoice over the baby; However, not even her greatest fears could imagine such brutality.

After the shock of the first few minutes, the adrenaline subsided. She was feeling a very intense pain, but she couldn't pinpoint where it was. Her baby. The panic set in. If something had happened to the baby, she would kill the Earl with her own hands.

Supporting herself against the wall, Mary managed to get up and call Mrs. Lemay. She didn't care about her bruises. Mary just wanted to hear her baby's heartbeat.

Mrs. Lemay called for a favour and rushed Mary to a private clinic. She refused to be examined without knowing if the baby was okay first. The doctor assured Mary that the baby was fine, but she only calmed down when he showed her the baby on the monitor.

He was silent for a few minutes, looking at the small screen. Mary was about to panic again. “What’s wrong, doctor?”

“Don’t worry, Miss. It's nothing bad. Do you know your baby’s gender?” Mary waved no. “I wasn't going to mention it because I am not absolutely sure. I think you are having a girl.”

Upon learning that the baby was fine, Mary went into autopilot mode. Besides the bruises, the doctor found out she had a broken rib. After taking care of her, Mrs. Lemay took the singer to her home. Exhausted, Mary slept for hours. When she awoke, Mrs. Lemay was waiting for her with a light meal.

“What happened was a crime, Mary. You should go to the police.”

“I have no proofs besides my bruises. Who do you think they would believe? An Earl or a pub singer?

“He is dangerous, Mary, and you confronted him!” Mrs. Lemay insisted. “If he was capable of doing this now, there's no guarantee that he won't do it again... or do something worse.”

“He's afraid I will look for his son and ruin his marriage with the widow. I believe that as soon as they get married and the Earl sees I didn’t lift a finger, he will forget about me and my daughter.”

“So, what are you going to do now? London is not safe.”

“I'm going back to Grovershire and staying there for a while. The Earl doesn't know about my grandparents' house, or he would have gone there. It is far enough from London and from them. I need calm and security for my daughter. Then I will see what my next step will be.”

“Have you thought about names for the baby?” Mrs. Lemay asked to change to a happier subject.

“Beatrice.” Mary smiled, caressing her bump. “Vincent would have liked it too.” She couldn't stop herself from thinking about it.

“Why don't you ask him in person?”

“Even if I wanted...which I don’t want...I can’t take that risk now. Even if we survive Rupert Foredale's wrath, you know the fate of the bastard children. My child will not be exiled to a boarding school.”

Mary did as she said. With the help of Mrs. Lemay and other friends from work, all of Mary's (few) belongings were loaded into a van the following night. As Vincent's forgotten objects appeared, Mrs. Lemay discreetly saved them from the trash. She was thinking that perhaps the child would later look for a connection with the father.

Back in Grovershire, Mary kept as low a profile as possible. Trying to camouflage, she began to introduce herself as ‘Helen’. Those who knew her found it strange. Mary justified her choice, saying she was known in London by that name. She had chosen it as a stage name in honour of her grandmother.

People thought it was eccentric, but they eventually got used to it.

Her belly was becoming less and less discreet. Comments on her obvious situation were inevitable, as well as comparisons with her mother's case. The most charitable hearts felt sorry for her situation. Losing her fiancé in a tragic accident and now having a child to take care of... It was a very hard blow from fate.

The poisonous ones were not so compassionate. Their tongues distilled all kinds of gossip about her: that she was a luxury escort in London (the nastiest said directly prostitute), others that she was the rejected lover of a married man, that the child's father was in prison... Mary knew her truth, yet some days weren't easy with that background buzz. Fortunately, she had the Daly’s on her side.

She didn't like perpetuating a lie, but it was the best truth she could tell. It would be better for both the child and her. Like her, Beatrice would not suffer for someone she had never met. Following her grandparents' example, Mary would make sure her daughter received so much love that she wouldn't miss a thing. It would protect her from Rupert and more heartbreak.

The following ultrasounds confirmed that it was a girl and that she was growing strong and healthy.

Meanwhile, Parvati returned to her work as a seamstress. Mary took care of Briar and in return, Pavarti was sewing her a layette fit for a princess.

During the day, between helping out at the Dalys' house and preparing her own for the baby's arrival, neither Mary's head nor her heart had time to worry about the past or the future. However, many of the nights were full of nightmares about Rupert; others were sleepless, planning all possible future scenarios.

On Halloween evening, Mary felt the first contractions. While Pavarti was finishing the hem of a dress, she was playing on the floor with Briar and felt an intense pain that paralysed her. Recognising the signs, Pavarti helped her get up and set her down on the sofa.

That night was just a warning, but on Tuesday early morning, the contractions came back in force. Mary was terrified of what was happening. What the doctor and the midwife had explained, the books she had read, Pavarti's advice...all of her preparation and plans were gone.

George and Pavarti drove her to the hospital.

As the hours passed, the pain increased, becoming intense and almost constant. Despite telling her that she was doing great and that the baby would soon be in her arms, Mary was losing her strength.

During one of the strongest contractions, for the first time in months, she wished Vincent was there beside her. For a few moments, she was filled with a whirlwind of memories with him. She could almost hear his voice smoothing her. Another strong contraction brought her back to reality. There was no use dwelling on the past. Her daughter was all that mattered now.

After hours of pain and fear, at nightfall on November 2, 1994, her daughter was born. Hearing the sweet shrill sound of her daughter's cries was a relief. Having Beatrice in her arms for the first time was a new kind of happiness she never thought possible.

Even though she was ruddy and grumpy like all newborns, in Mary's eyes, Beatrice was the pinnacle of cuteness, with her full cheeks, thick brown hair, and big eyes.

Around midnight, Beatrice fell asleep in her mother's arms. Exhausted, Mary also fell into a deep sleep.

A couple of hours later, she woke up with a start, thinking she heard the baby crying. Everything was quiet in the ward, including her daughter. However, the door was ajar. Mary saw a pair of eyes watching them through the crack. “Who is there?” She asked instinctively, placing herself in front of the crib. The pair of eyes disappeared.

The next morning, after making sure that everything was fine with both of them, the issue of the father inevitably arose. Again, Mary told the best truth she could:  she had met the father at a party, they had spent the night together, and they had never seen each other again. She claimed she didn't know any information about him other than his first name.

While she was trying to breastfeed Beatrice, a social worker with dubious intentions came to talk to her, asking some questions, pointing out the challenges of being a young single mother and the possibility of giving her baby up for adoption.

Mary was about to lose patience with her when the Dalys came in to visit them. The couple promptly shooed the nosy woman away. Pavarti helped Mary dress Beatrice and put a small pink bow on her head. Then, George took the first portrait of Beatrice. 

Briar was very curious about the new baby, whimpering if they moved her away from the crib.

Rocking her daughter by the window, the light illuminated every detail of her features. Mary noticed that Beatrice had a lot of Vincent in her. How she wished she could make Rupert eat his words.

A couple of days later, mother and daughter were back home. “Welcome home, my love.” Mary kissed her daughter's head. “It may not be Buckingham Palace, but we're going to make it our realm.”

As long as she was well fed, Beatrice was (most days) an easy baby. Despite some sleepless nights, the many health scares typical of newborns, and hormone shenanigans, Mary felt like she was in a bubble of happiness. Her daughter's birth had not miraculously healed her heart, but she was the glue that was holding the pieces together.

As the weeks went by, Beatrice was growing healthy and becoming more active and playful.

Mary's savings were dwindling at the same rate.

There weren't many job opportunities there, so Mary had to take a job at a local pub. Since Pavarti worked from home, she took care of the two babies during the day. At the end of the day, Mary helped her friend taking home some simpler pieces of clothing and making small sewing arrangements. She had never felt so grateful for the hours her grandmother forced her to learn how to sew. Despite it, she felt like she could never repay the kindness they showed her.

The young mother felt exhausted every night, but holding her daughter in her arms, playing with her, smelling her sweet scent, seeing how much she was growing day by day gave Mary the strength to carry one each morning.

Beatrice never lacked anything necessary, even if that sometimes meant just soup for Mary’s dinner. There were many things she wanted to give her daughter, but she couldn't afford them, even if it might be lacking, Mary made up for it with love.

-----

The year 1999 began full of hope. Although it wasn't technically the turn of the millennium, there was in the air the excitement of the end of an era, with a world of possibilities knocking on the door.

Now that the girls were a little older, the Dalys were planning to have another child. Mary was considering changing careers. Her idea was to return to the music world by giving private lessons.

Unfortunately, in April, a series of attacks shocked the United Kingdom and destroyed the dreams of the young family. George Daly was passing through Brick Lane on his way to meet his last client for the month when a nail bomb exploded. He did not survive his injuries and passed away a couple of days later.

Parvati was devastated. She cried for the loss of the love of her life and the loss of everything that Briar would not have with her father, even though she was too young to fully understand what had happened.

Mary knew what a broken heart felt like. However, what Pavarti was suffering was beyond her understanding. Despite the troubled separation, the hurt, the anger, she knew that the love of her life was alive and well. There was always a faint light in her heart, even if her mind denied it.

Part of her friend had died with him that day. Mary knew it would not be possible to heal that wound. For months, every day, Mary fought the darkness that threatened to swallow Pavarti. She was determined to take care of the parts of her friend that remained, just as Pavarti had done with her.

-----------------------

All children grow up too quickly in their parent's eyes, and Mary felt that it was in the blink of an eye that Beatrice went from a baby to a primary school girl.

Apart from the struggle to get her up from bed in the mornings, some occasional tantrums, and some shenanigans here and there, Mary felt blessed. Beatrice was very curious, eager to learn, always exploring the small world around her and asking many questions, some trivial, some more philosophical.

Even though she was little more than a child, Mary realised that her daughter had inherited her wit and passion. It gave her some peace of mind. Having a sharp spirit would protect her and help her succeed in whatever path she chose.

Mary wanted to teach her how to play the piano, but her daughter didn't seem to have the muse of music awake inside her, although Beatrice's voice was naturally in tune.

Nonetheless, as she grew up, the Vincent features stood out more and more in her, and not just physically. Like her father, Beatrice loved books, always asking to read stories. When an adult couldn’t read to her, she made up her own stories with what she saw in the illustrations and told them to Briar or to her dolls.

One night, Mary was sitting on her daughter's bed, dog-tired, praying for Beatrice to choose a small book. What was her surprise when her daughter appeared in the bedroom with her copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' in her hands.

“It's too long for a bedtime story.”

“I didn't ask you to read me everything at once. I was thinking about one chapter per night.”

“It's a story for older girls. You're going to find it boring.”

“How older?” Her inquisitive mode had just turned on.

That was a good question. Mary used her own example to answer, “Girls who are fourteen or fifteen.”

“I am five, it’s not that different! Plus, you always choose good stories, so I'm sure it won't be boring. I have seen you read it more than once.”

“You're going to regret asking me for this. It would be much more fun when you read it by yourself.” In vain, Mary tried to change her mind. She started reading the famous first lines.

“IT IS A TRUTH universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.

However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.

“My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?”

Night after night, chapter after chapter, Beatrice paid close attention to each line. Sometimes the sleep overcame the girl: however, there was use in trying to trick her. She always knew which page they were on before falling asleep. The reading took weeks, which ended up making story time easier for Mary.

With the Gardiners, they were always on the most intimate terms. Darcy, as well as Elizabeth, really loved them; and they were both ever sensible of the warmest gratitude towards the persons who, by bringing her into Derbyshire, had been the means of uniting them.

“The end.” She dramatically closed the book. “So, what do you think?” Mary asked.

“It's a little like fairy tales, but without fairies? Mr Darcy is a little grumpy for Prince Charming. Her aunt fits the evil witch role, though. But I loved it!” As she tucked her in, Beatrice asked, “Do you think there are many Mr Darcys out there?”

“If you look for yours, you will find him.”

“How will I know?”

“You will know it. You will feel it. Your heart will scream it.”

“Papa was yours?”

Mary still had difficulty dealing with questions about Vincent. For Beatrice, she had chosen to keep the narrative of the father who died in a car accident days before their wedding day. Despite her inquisitive nature, Beatrice rarely questioned Mary about it. Probably because the girl saw the pain in her eyes when the subject was mentioned.

She had only asked her once to see a photograph of him. Mary made up the excuse that all his photos had been lost when they moved to Grovershire. She was sad but didn't ask again.

“All love stories are different. Like Darcy and Lizzie, there were some differences between us, but, unlike her, I think I loved your dad from day one.”

Mary had only seen him again in person once. They were visiting Mrs. Lemay in London for a weekend. Walking through Hyde Park, Mrs. Lemay was further ahead with Beatrice by the hand. Mary had stayed behind, enjoying the rare moment of peace that a mother of a toddler can have. There was a street stall selling ice cream, and she decided to go over to buy some. As she got closer, she saw him. She saw them: Vincent, his wife, an older boy, and a boy a little younger than Beatrice, buying ice cream as well.

That sight left her breathless and with a piercing pain in her stomach. It was a difficult feeling to explain. It had been a little more than a couple of years, however, while it seemed like the same Vincent, it was as if their past was just a dream or the delirium of a feverish night.

The youngest son was throwing a tantrum, and Vincent patiently tried to calm him down. He seemed to have become the fantastic father she knew he could be and that she had dreamed of for her and their children.

Mary turned away and walked forward, quickening her pace. There was no reason for her to torture herself with the past, suffer the present, and tempt fate. Such an encounter would only make things worse.

-----------------------

As soon as Beatrice learned to read, Mary got her a library card. If on the one hand this freed her from the daily bedtime story, but on the other, it stirred even more her daughter's eagerness. Mary often had to go to the library to return books that Beatrice stubbornly brought home, despite not being appropriate for her age.

Every night, Mary had to go back to her room to make her turn off the light and go to sleep. On Friday nights, she knew that her daughter, after being caught in the act, would read another chapter under the blankets by flashlight, however, she decided to pretend that she didn't know about it.

-----------------------

February, 2004

Sitting in the doctor's waiting room, Mary tried to focus on the gossip magazine. Her limbs were heavy and sore from trying to control her nerves.

It wouldn't be anything serious, Mary repeated to herself. She had always been a healthy lass. She was just an exhausted mother, like many others. Like Pavarti, who had insisted on accompanying her to the appointment. There was a wedding dress to urgently finish, yet there she was. The years did not expunge the loss, but they brought back the light of her best friend.

Daughters full of energy in Year 5, long hours of work, little sleep, months without a moment for themselves, bills hard to pay alone, the need to start preparing the girls' future... No wonder they were both in shambles.

At Pavarti's insistence, there she was, fearing the worst, hoping for the best.

“Helen Howard!” the nurse called. Mary wanted to get up, but her legs didn't allow her to do so for a few seconds.

After some small talk, the doctor delivered the news in the politest and least dramatic way possible. “The cancer is aggressive, and it’s in an advanced stage. However, you are a woman in the prime. The sick cells have used your strength to multiply, but that same strength can be used in your favour...” He proceeded to explain the options available in her case.

Mary feared the suffering caused by the treatments, she feared the doctor's lack of certainty, she feared death... but, above all, she was terrified by the idea of her little girl being alone in the world.

Leaving the doctor's office, Mary didn't know what to feel or what to think. It was as if she were possessed by a sharp pain, a paralysing numbness, while at the same time she was diving into a bottomless, icy lake.

Then the anger and frustration came. ‘Why her? Hadn't she suffered enough already?’

As the days went by, Mary wasn’t still conformed to the diagnosis, but took control of what was in her hands.

For Beatrice and a future with her, Mary made her mind up to religiously follow the treatments. Even if she couldn’t escape, any chance of spending more time with her daughter would be worth every discomfort.

In the following days, Mary's biggest concern was how to tell her about it. Unfortunately, or fortunately, children are very perceptive. So, it didn't take long for Beatrice to ask her mother directly what was happening.

Mary stopped chopping the vegetables for the soup and took a deep breath. She couldn't break down in front of her daughter. To buy some time, Mary poured two glasses of juice for both of them. After a couple of sips, the first shaky words left his lips.

“As you know, I had some medical exams. I went to the doctor last week to get the results. I am very ill, my love.” She tried to find gracious words in the English language, but emotions rushed things. “I have ovarian cancer. I am starting treatments next week.”

Beatrice was silent for a while. Mary could see in her daughter's expressions that she was processing what she had just heard. “But, after it, you're going to be okay, right?” She looked up at Mary with her big, sweet hazel eyes.

Mary didn't want to lie to her, but she didn't want to be overly optimistic. "I will do my best. The doctors will do their best, and with a little faith everything, will be okay.”

+++++++

Her grandmother got a similar surgery years ago as a preventative measure; therefore, the operation didn't scare her. Mary knew the secret was to get plenty of rest, so as she did, at least, as much as mother can do.

On the other hand, chemotherapy treatments were knocking her down. Pregnancy nausea was a child's play compared to what she was feeling. After the sessions, Mary felt so weak that she could barely get out of bed for days. When she finally started to feel better, it was time to do another one.

If it weren't for Beatrice, Mary was sure she couldn’t bear it.

As soon as her hair began to fall like leaves in autumn, she decided to cut it very short. Mary had always loved and pampered her hair, and her grandmother was to blame. She loved her granddaughter's hair and spent hours doing elaborate hairstyles. Elena Howard used to say, 'Tira più un capello di donna che cento paia di buoi'' (‘one hair of woman pulls more than a hundred pairs of oxen’). Mary only many years later understood the full meaning of these words.

However, more than her hurt vanity, seeing Beatrice cry when she faced her like that for the first time was much more painful.

Since Mary couldn’t afford a decent wig, she chose to wear headscarves. Parvati, using all the scraps of beautiful fabrics, sewed her headscarves in all patterns and colours.

+++++++

Despite all the ups and downs, Mary was enjoying that summer.

One more time in her life, she has a lot to be thankful for Parvati. Her friend was being tireless with her, spending the most critical nights close to her, preparing meals, taking care of Beatrice, driving her to and from the hospital... Mary knew she could never repay her, so she prayed that life would reward her with the same kindness.

Thanks to Pavarti's generosity, Mary was able to dedicate what little energy she had to her little girl, keeping these precious moments in her heart.

Beatrice spoiled her as best she could, with little gifts and affection. She was always ready to help, no matter the task. It filled Mary's heart with pride. Her daughter's love was what kept her standing.

The fear of the future often made her think about Vincent. She was sure that Pavarti would look out for her daughter, however, if the worst happened, at least Beatrice would have someone else to turn to.

Rupert had died a few years earlier, so he was no longer a threat. The years and the paths taken changed both of them, but Mary believed that his heart had not changed.

She was convinced that when he found out about Beatrice, Vincent would not excuse himself from his obligations. She also didn't doubt that, as time went by, they would love each other very much.

So, Mary started making arrangements. Since she didn't want there to be any doubt about her daughter's paternity, she took a sample of Beatrice's hair for them to analyse.

Along with the samples and some photographs, Mary enclosed a letter from her to Vincent in an envelope. It took days, crumpled papers, and many tears to write that letter. Later, she would just need to instruct Pavarti on how to get that to Vincent.

At the end of September, hope fell away with the leaves. Despite the treatments, the new exams showed that it had spread to other parts of the body. The doctor was almost as dejected as she was.

“Just tell me how long I have.” Mary asked through tears.

“I can't give guarantees about anyone's life, Miss Howard. Sometimes there are real miracles in the human body.” The doctor tried to comfort her.

“I prefer the truth, doctor. Please.”

“A couple of months, no more than Christmas.”

“Will it be painful?”

“There are several ways to make that period smoother, if that's your wish.”

“Having to go is bad enough, don’t you think?”

Back home, Mary didn't have the courage to face her daughter. Parvati took Beatrice home for an impromptu sleepover party.

When the girls fell asleep, Pavarti sneaked over to the Howards' house. It would be a very difficult night for Mary.

After many cups of tea and many more tears, Mary resolved, “This will take me to my grave, but I won't let it take away the shreds of happiness. My daughter and I deserve better than spending our final weeks in misery.”

From that moment on, Mary focused on enjoying every minute with her girl, the epitome of her happiness.

“When are you going to tell her?” Pavarti asked.

“I do not know how, but not for now. When I feel it's closer. I don't want her to cry before the time.”

*November 2004*

Giggles were filling the air. Two little girls were playing tag, running around carefree.

Mary was sitting in her small garden, feeling severe pains, in spite of the medications. She held a mug of strong coffee in her hands, one of the few things that gave her energy.

The autumn sun in her bones was her only comfort. That and seeing her daughter happy.

Taking small, warm sips, Mary reflected on the past thirty years. So much had happened! In her short life there were adventures that would fill a lifetime. Losses along the way, setbacks, broken dreams...but also good friends, many happy days...and, best of all, Beatrice. Mary would go all the way again for the opportunity to share her life with Beatrice.

She was already missing what wasn't going to live with her. Beatrice looks at her and smiles. She is missing two teeth that fell out the other day. Mary knows she won't see her new teeth, yet she smiles back.

‘How do we prepare a child for our death, Pavarti?' Mary asked her friend, who was sitting next to her. 

@jeanele ❣  @missameliep ❣   @regencylady1810 ❣  @i-put-the-sin-in-sinclaire ❣ @whenyourheartskipsabeat ❣ @xjustin-ethansgirliex ❣ @rosesnink ❣  @gardeningourmet❣ @paisleylovergirl  ❣ @dailydoseofchoices ❣  @rhyssescups ❣   @lorircreates ❣  @lorirwritesfanfic ❣ @walkerduchess ❣ @indiacater ❣ @kinkypot ❣ @ezekielbhandarivalleros ❣ @anotherbeingsworld ❣ @hellooliviaolivia ❣ @pixel-writer19  ❣ @sinclaire-ity  ❣ @marlcasters ❣ @bhartigat81 ❣ @lyannacyrill706 ❣ @daddytyrilstarfury ❣ @secretaryunpaid ❣ @allisonreilynn ❣ @fauxleaves ❣ @twinkleallnight ❣ @kingliam2019 ❣ @iloveethanramsey ❣ @surewhyynot ❣ @yvettegolx ❣ @itlivesinpixelberry ❣ @chutchoices ❣ @electroniccreatorwerewolf ❣ @spookycolorpeanut ❣ @peonierose ❣ @quixoticdreamer16 ❣ @lilyoffandoms ❣ @tessa-liam ❣ @storyofmychoices ❣ @dutifullynuttywitch ❣ @ladylamrian

#desire and decorum #desire & decorum #unspoken desires #oc: beatrice foredale #choices stories you play #desire and decorum fanfic

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clarisse0o · 5 hours

Text

Camp Wiegman-Part 80

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 5K

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Saturday, April 16; 5:30 PM - Porto Airport.

Here we are, in Porto. I can hardly believe it. I mean, I'm from Portugal, but I've never been here. It's always been a city I've wanted to visit, and here I am. Lucy smiles at me to reassure me.

"Are you ready?"

"As if I had a choice."

She laughs softly and steals a kiss. She's lucky I love her madly. In a few minutes, we're going to get off the plane and meet her parents. Despite her teasing, I can tell Lucy's been nervous since yesterday. She gave me a little rundown of what to expect, and honestly, I have no idea how to act.

"I love you. Don't forget that."

"I know."

We exchange a smile, and we walk hand in hand down the disembarkation corridor. My hands are sweaty. There are people all around us. When we reach the hall, I let Lucy take the lead in looking for them, as I've never seen them. All I know is that her father is really tall and her mother have white hair.

"I see them! Are you coming?"

"I'm right behind you."

She guides me while I keep looking around for them. I finally smile when I see Alexia running toward us. I barely have time to let go of my girlfriend’s hand to catch her in my arms.

"You’re finally here!"

I let out a sigh. I had forgotten they arrived before us. That’s great news.

"Hey. I’m so relieved to see you."

"Me too! I have so much to tell you."

"Really? Did you have a good week?"

I almost forgot she spent the week with Jenni and her sister. I imagine she has lots to share.

"It couldn’t have been better. And you? You look like you got some sun."

"A little, yes," I giggle.

I glance over her shoulder to see Lucy standing next to her parents and Jenni. I smile especially when I see her in the arms of a woman I assume to be her mother based on her appearance.

"You’ve already talked to them, I guess?" I ask Ale.

"Yeah. Your mother-in-law is a bit... I don’t know. Intimidating? She’s something else."

"Thanks, Ale. That’s really reassuring," I mock.

"Sorry," she laughs. "Just giving you a heads-up."

I nod. Anyway, Lucy already warned me that her mother would be the one to intimidate me the most with her cold demeanor. In a way, it reminds me of Lucy when we first met. She was the same, so I guess it’s not insurmountable.

"Her dad, on the other hand, is adorable. He hasn’t stopped chatting with us."

I glance at him. Once again, Lucy warned me not to judge by appearances. He reminds me of my dad, but even more impressive.

"That’s something, at least."

"Come on, I’ll go with you through this tough moment. We’ll chat later."

I nod. I can’t run away forever. Alexia links her arm with mine to guide me. I let her. I’d rather do that than have time to overthink. Lucy smiles immediately when she sees us. Ale lets go of me when my girlfriend reaches out her hand. I take it and don’t hesitate to snuggle against her.

"Mom, Dad, this is Ona, my girlfriend. Ona, this is Diane , my mother , and Kim, my father."

"Hello," I say timidly. "I’m happy to finally meet you."

"And we are too. Lucy has told us a lot about you. Don’t be shy around us. We’re glad Lucy’s brought someone home."

"Well, that puts a lot of pressure on me."

The words slipped out, but they seem to amuse her father, who catches me off guard with a hug that tenses me up. Lucy smiles with amusement beside me. Maybe this trip won’t be as bad as I feared. Well, except for her mother, who has been staring at me the whole time. Lucy’s father saves me from having to approach her by suggesting we hurry home. Lucy kisses my temple, wrapping her arm around my shoulders as we walk.

"You’re doing great, honey," she whispers. "You’re perfect. Just keep being yourself, and everything will be fine."

Her words give me the strength I need for what’s ahead. The non-interaction with her mother bothers me a bit, but I suppose I’ll have to get used to it for now. Lucy said not to expect much from her at first.

"You all must be starving," her father says as we head toward the exit after collecting our bags.

"Oh, yes, you’re not kidding," Jenni replies. "I’ll be glad when we’re home."

"You’ll have to wait a bit. We invited your parents for dinner tonight. We thought it’d bring back good memories."

"What a great idea. Are we having a barbecue?"

"Of course. You’ll help me grill the meat."

"Gladly!"

It seems like everyone’s looking forward to tonight. I really hope everything goes well.

Saturday, April 16; 7:30 PM - Bronze House.

Lucy loved my house, but she didn’t do too badly with hers either. It’s a small house with a lovely, well-kept garden. Like me, they live away from the city, in a very friendly neighborhood. It’s peaceful. You can’t hear anything, even though we’re outside sipping a drink for now. The Dads and Jenni are handling the grilling. Jenni looks a lot like her dad. The mothers are, to my relief, inside preparing salads. I have some breathing room and, more importantly, an escape from my mother-in-law’s watchful eyes. She won’t stop. I feel like she’s scrutinizing my every move. It’s very unsettling. Thankfully, Alexia keeps me relaxed with casual conversation.

"I need to use the bathroom before we sit down," I tell Lucy. "Can you show me where it is?"

"I’ll come with you."

"Oh no, you don’t have to. Just tell me."

"Sweetheart, I’m coming with you," she insists. "We’ll be back in ten minutes," she tells Ale.

"No problem, I’ll check in on the others in the meantime."

She winks at me as we walk into the house. Lucy takes me upstairs, which feels strange at the moment. But then she opens the door to the bathroom, right next to her bedroom. At least now I know I won’t have trouble finding it if I need to during the night.

"Thanks."

"Is everything okay, love?" she asks, stopping me with her question.

"Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?"

"Well, you’re not as cheerful as when we left Lisbon."

"Well… your mother is quite the character, but I’ll be fine."

She chuckles softly, sliding her hands around my waist.

"I know, I’m sorry if she’s making you uncomfortable."

"Oh no, don’t apologize. It’s not your fault, and honestly, she’s not making me that uncomfortable. I haven’t even spoken to her yet."

"You’re right," she sighs. "I know she likes to observe before acting, but she’s never been this intense. I’ll say something to her eventually."

"No! Please don’t, Lucy. I don’t want her to think I’m playing the victim or anything."

She sighs heavily. I cup her cheek, and she looks up at me.

"And then what? I’m not going to let her create tension between you two during this trip."

"Well, I don’t know… Maybe she’s waiting for me to approach her? Maybe I should make the first move. What do you think?"

"I’m not sure you’re ready to—"

"Ready for what?" I interrupt. "I think I’ve been through enough to handle a conversation with your mom, Lucia."

"That’s not what I meant," she sighs.

She averts her gaze, clearly thinking it over. I can tell she’s nervous. Either she’s hiding something serious, or she doesn’t think I can handle her mother.

"Okay… If you feel like facing her, go ahead. She’ll appreciate the gesture."

"Thank you."

I smile and kiss her gently.

"Can I use the bathroom now? »

"Yes," she laughed. "I'll wait for you."

She let go of me, and I hurried to take care of what I needed to do. I washed my hands and came back out. Lucy was leaning against the door, looking deep in thought. I stood in front of her and wrapped my arms around her.

"Hey, how are you?"

She shrugged.

"I don’t know. It’s always strange coming back here."

"I can see that. We're far from peace and quiet, huh?"

"Yeah," she chuckled.

I gently stroked her hair, full of love.

"Do you want to talk?"

"No, it's fine."

"Okay... You know I love you, right?"

A small smile formed on her lips.

"Yeah, it seems like it..." she replied playfully.

"You think that’s funny, huh?" I asked, pulling away a little.

"Just a bit."

A small gasp escaped me when she flipped the roles. I found myself pressed against the wall, speechless as she kissed me softly. I kissed her back with growing desire.

"You’ll never love me as much as I love you," she teased.

"Wrong. I already love you more than you love me."

"No, I don't think so," she teased back.

"Girls! We're ready to eat!" Ale called from the stairs.

"Well, duty calls, it seems."

"Yeah, convenient for you."

"I don’t know what you’re talking about. Let’s go fill our stomachs instead of arguing over a debate that, in my opinion, has no possible outcome."

I chuckled softly.

"You're just afraid to lose, that's all."

"Are you done yet? I might start thinking you’re doubting my feelings."

She stepped back, crossing her arms. She was truly adorable when she pretended to sulk. Usually, it was me in that position. I tilted my head, smiling.

"Are you kidding? After our nights at the beach, there's no way I could ever doubt your feelings."

I moved closer to her again, pressing our bodies together. Her hand gliding over my hip caught me off guard, and once again, she had me pinned against the wall. My breath was short, but I let her kiss me once more, tenderly. I felt myself surrender more and more, and I loved it. I had developed an unshakable trust in her. Last week had truly been paradise. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I had fully found myself again. We were in perfect harmony, and nothing made me happier than knowing we’d be living together permanently in just a few weeks. I snapped back to reality when Lucy started to venture a little too far along my neck.

"Lucia," I whispered.

That didn’t seem to stop her, but a pinch on her butt certainly did the trick.

"Hey!" she protested.

"You made me wait for nights last week because we were under my grandfather's roof. Don’t think you’re going to get away with it any easier here."

"And what, exactly? Want me to find us a beach?" she teased.

"You’re ridiculous," I giggled. "We almost got caught more than once last night, remember?"

"Oh, come on, it was kind of fun, wasn’t it?" she teased, letting her hand wander under my shirt.

"Sure, but you weren’t the one half undressed when it happened."

"True," she laughed.

I gave in to her lips one last time. That’s when we were interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing. I panicked a little but relaxed when I saw Ale standing there.

"So, this is what you've been up to this whole time? We’ve all been waiting for you."

"Sorry about that," Lucy laughed. "We’re coming."

"I hope so!"

She turned around without checking if we were following. I was ready to go, but Lucy held me back one more time. I thought we were done.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Forget about all that for now. Don’t worry about my mom tonight. Focus on me, okay? I want us to have a good evening for our first night here. Can you do that for me?"

I took a deep breath but nodded.

"Okay," I murmured. "I’ll try."

"Thank you. I love you, don’t forget that."

I smiled as she kissed me one last time. Now it was time to keep my promise. I just hoped her mom wouldn’t traumatize me.

Sunday, April 17th, 08:30 AM - Bronze House

I groaned as I felt movement beside me. I reached out to place my arm over Lucy’s body, but I realized she wasn’t lying down anymore.

"What are you doing?" I mumbled.

"Shhh, go back to sleep."

"Where are you going?" I grumbled, blinking as she tried to get out of bed.

"I can't sleep anymore. Jenni texted me. We’re going for a run."

I sighed contentedly as she stroked my head. It felt so good. I closed my eyes again.

"You're leaving me alone?"

"We’re just doing a quick loop around the neighborhood. You won’t have to leave here without me, okay?"

"Hmm..."

I heard her words, but I was too tired to process them. Lucy chuckled at my response.

"I love you. See you soon."

I felt her lips against mine. I let out another small groan as she finally got out of bed. I wasn’t able to stop her, but instead, I slid over to her side of the bed, hugging her pillow to me. On the one hand, I hated that she left me alone for her morning runs, but on the other, I loved being able to enjoy her side of the bed in her absence. Without fully realizing it, I drifted back to sleep.

Sunday, April 17th, 09:00 AM - Bronze House

I stretched out in the big bed, realizing I was alone. I vaguely remembered why, thanks to Lucy’s departure. I sighed and reached for my phone. It was still early for me, but I could hear movement in the house. There was noise coming from downstairs. I didn’t know when Lucy had left, but I didn’t particularly feel like waiting for her up here. Knowing Alexia, she was probably still sleeping. She loved to sleep in as much as I did. Or, maybe she had gone with the others. That was a possibility too. I waited for a while, but eventually decided to get out of bed. It was ridiculous to stay there, and with a bit of luck, Lucy’s dad would be downstairs. I took the time to get dressed and make the bed before heading to the bathroom next to the room. I brushed my teeth and fixed my hair before heading downstairs. After all, I was at my in-laws’ house, and the least I could do was look presentable. My feet led me to the kitchen after I noticed the living room was empty. I instantly regretted leaving the bed when I saw that the only person there was Lucy’s mother, who had, of course, already spotted me.

"Good morning," I said, a bit awkwardly.

"Good morning, Ona."

"How are you? Is there anything I can help you with?"

The woman smiled. That was a first. I hadn’t received a smile from her yet. I’d had a pleasant evening yesterday, but I’d had to ignore her to avoid feeling uncomfortable.

"Lucy told us that you don’t particularly like cooking. Maybe you could set the table, if you remember where the silverware is."

I blushed furiously. Lucy had really told them that? We were going to need to have a little talk.

"Y-yes, of course," I stammered.

We’d put the dishwasher away last night, so I remembered perfectly where everything was. I moved toward the kitchen to start looking for the plates.

"So, she was right?" Lucy’s mother asked.

I swallowed hard. Had she painted me as some sort of failure to her parents? I felt embarrassed by the answer I was about to give.

"Yes, it's true. I never really took the time to learn how to cook, but I do help Lucy from time to time since we moved in together. Well, on weekends, at least," I added, unsure of how much she actually knew.

I prefer to stay honest. It’s not by lying that I will gain her sympathy. She doesn’t respond, so I step forward to the table to set down four plates.

“Are you planning to take care of my daughter?”

The question catches me off guard. She stopped what she was doing to look me straight in the eye. I realize she’ll probably judge my answer if it’s not what she expects.

“I understand you might feel uncomfortable with my behavior,” she continues. “But you have to understand, I only have one child. It’s my duty to know if she’s in good hands.”

I take a deep breath. In a way, I’m glad she started the conversation. I would have never had the courage to do it myself. Besides, the question was simple. I just needed to answer from the heart.

“I love your daughter, so of course, I’m going to take care of her. She’s my priority.”

“You love her, huh? So, you’re not with her out of interest?”

“What—what? No!” I reply, offended. “Lucy has given me so much, and I have genuine feelings for her. I would never use her.”

“Really? So there’s no ulterior motive? Not even a financial one?”

I laugh bitterly. This woman is something else. What does she think? I can see that my attitude doesn’t please her, but I can’t help it. I close my eyes for a moment, clench my fists, and collect myself.

“No, none at all,” I reply more harshly than I intended. “If you know so much, I imagine Lucy has also told you about my father’s death... So you should know I inherited everything from him. Even his house in Lisbon, so you can understand that I’m not in need financially.”

I don’t like that she’s doubting our love so much. Plus, forcing me to talk about my father—that’s the last straw. Unexpectedly, her eyes soften, which is rather disconcerting. Up until now, she’s only looked at me with judgment and coldness.

“I did hear about that tragedy. My condolences. I’m also sorry for attacking you like this, but I’m still Lucy’s mother, and I have to protect her. She’s been through enough, but you seem to be good for her.”

Her words make my heart skip a beat. What does she mean by “been through enough”? Is she referring to her relationship with Keira? I don’t know why, but since what Lucy told me last week and how she’s been acting since we got here, I have doubts that it’s just that. Something else must have happened here too.

“I observed you a lot last night. I can see that you make my daughter happy, and after this conversation, you seem like a remarkable young woman. Know that Lucy needs support, even though she’ll never admit it.”

I struggle to hide my surprise. Until now, I never noticed that Lucy needed support. On the contrary, she’s always the one who’s supported me.

“Don’t look so surprised. You’re already supporting her without even realizing it, so keep it up. The only thing I’ll ask of you is to never betray her or break her heart.”

I blink several times. Am I to understand that she’s finally giving me her approval? It touches me in a way, considering the person standing in front of me. I blush despite myself and nod.

“Absolutely not, ma’am. I wouldn’t even think of it. I love her far too much to do something like that. I fully intend to keep Lucy by my side forever.”

She nods calmly, with a small smile.

“Good. I’m trusting you with my daughter, then. Take care of her. And you can call me Diane from now on.”

A weight lifts off my shoulders at those words. The conversation is going well.

“Welcome to the family, Ona.”

Definitely going well. Her words warm my heart. She’s clearly offering me recognition. I smile gently.

“Thank you... Diane.”

“Do you like pancakes?”

“Oh yes, especially Lucy’s,” I admit enthusiastically.

“Well, you’ll have to settle for mine today. But they shouldn’t be much different from my daughter’s since I’m the one who taught her.”

I smile softly and nod. I continue setting the table, and when I’m done, I hear the front door slam. My girlfriend’s laughter and Jenni’s echo in the hallway before they appear in the room.

“Hello!” she says cheerfully.

Her expression shifts to surprise when she sees me here. She wasn’t expecting it. After all, she asked me to wait upstairs. But that was out of the question for me. I wanted to take the opportunity to talk with her mother, and now that’s done.

“Hey,” I greet them.

“Oh, you came downstairs after all.”

“You told her to wait upstairs?” her mother scolds. “I wasn’t going to eat her.”

“Oh, with you, who knows,” Lucy laughs before coming over to hug me. I let myself relax until I catch a whiff of her scent. I grimace and try to push her away, but she holds on tighter.

“You stink,” I point out.

“What? You don’t like my natural scent?” she teases.

“Yes, but definitely not your sweat.”

She laughs before kissing me. Her lips carry me away every time. It’s as if I melt in her arms.

“Everything okay? She didn’t torture you too much?”

“No,” I giggle. “Everything went fine.”

She nods, glancing briefly at her mother, who doesn’t seem concerned about us.

“Are you and your girlfriend staying for breakfast, Jenni?” she asks instead.

“No, I’m heading home. I’m expected there, and I need a shower too.”

“Great idea,” Lucy comments. “We’ll take one as well. See you this afternoon?”

“Yeah, we’ll text to figure something out.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

“See you later.”

She turns around and leaves as if it’s nothing. Something tells me she feels right at home here. She seems very comfortable and well-accepted by my girlfriend’s family. Lucy catches my attention by kissing my cheek.

“Are you done here? Will you join me?”

“Oh, um…”

I blush. I think I understood what she meant earlier when she said “we” to Jenni. I glance at her mother for some sort of approval. She doesn’t seem to care. She’s not even looking at us. I turn back to Lucy, who has a mischievous expression.

“We can’t do that,” I say softly so only she can hear.

“Come on. No one’s upstairs, and we can talk about what happened while I was gone.”

She teases me, playing with the hem of my t-shirt. I shake my head, but Lucy isn’t giving up.

“Mom, will you call us when it’s ready?”

“Yes, go ahead. We’ll call you when it’s time.”

“Perfect, thanks.”

Lucy grabs my hand and leads me upstairs before I have a chance to understand what’s happening. I hardly recognize her. She’s never been this persistent. We arrive upstairs, and she guides me into the family bathroom.

“You’re exaggerating. We can’t do this here.”

"We're not going to do anything. I just want to take a shower with you. Is that too much to ask?"

She tilts her head while teasing the back of my bra under my t-shirt. I roll my eyes but smile nonetheless. She seems to really want this moment, so I give in.

"Just a quick shower, but don’t say I didn’t warn you."

"Thank you, my love. I’ll go get some clothes. You get the towels ready."

She gives me a quick kiss before disappearing into her bedroom. A pretty spacious room, by the way. It’s about the size of our room in Manchester, with fairly neutral colors. Actually, it resembles her apartment’s style a lot—minimalistic, but very pretty and harmonious. I listen to her and go in search of the towels. This room has a bathtub, a shower, and some storage cabinets. I hope she doesn’t get any ideas when she sees the bath... She's been quite playful these past few days. I jump when arms suddenly wrap around me from behind. I didn’t even have time to look before she’s already here.

"Haven’t you taken your clothes off yet?" she whispers.

"I was waiting for you. And honestly, I haven’t even found the towels."

I turn around to face her and also to check if the door is locked, which it is.

"Did you lock it?"

"Of course. Now, undress."

She kicks things off by stripping off her clothes, letting them fall to the floor. Unlike her, I plan on putting mine back on, so I fold them neatly. Meanwhile, she turns on the water and checks the temperature. I feel happy to be getting more comfortable around her. She makes me feel wanted. It's been a long time since I’ve felt that way.

"So, where are the towels?" I ask.

"Right here, look."

She points to a cabinet right next to the shower. I grab two for later. When I turn around, Lucy already has her hand on my waist.

"You're really eager today," I giggle. "What’s going on with you?"

"I don’t know. I just want to spend time with you."

"Quick, remember," I say as she pulls me under the water.

"Promise," she laughs. "Just a shower," she murmurs against my lips.

I smile as she kisses me, closing the door behind her. We try to share the water jets as best as we can. The space is smaller than anything we’ve been in before. Lucy keeps her promise and just focuses on washing me. She takes her time, lost in thought. I know she enjoys doing it, so I don’t say anything. I like it too. The way she looks at me makes me feel like a wonder of the world. It’s so crazy, considering how much I dislike my body.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Of course," she says, smiling softly. "I’m with you, so everything’s fine."

She says that, but I can tell something’s bothering her. She kisses me, so I stay quiet. I rinse off once she’s done. Now it’s my turn to pamper her. I start with her hair. I smile when I see her close her eyes. Looks like someone really needed this. I understand better why she insisted on having me with her. I take advantage of the moment to kiss her shoulder.

"Don’t start if you want me to stay calm," she mumbles.

"Oh, but you will stay calm. It’s my turn to take care of you."

"Really, hmm?"

She sighs in contentment as I give her a scalp massage. I start to wonder if she’s simply letting go...

"Yes. I know how to do it, and you seem to need it."

"You’re right."

I smile. It’s rare for her to admit things like this, especially so easily. That must mean it’s true.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I whisper.

"No."

"Ladies, dinner will be ready soon," comes the distinct voice of Lucy’s father, interrupting us.

"We’d better hurry up," my girlfriend advises.

"Okay..."

I let it go for now. She really doesn’t seem to want to talk. I get the sense I’m not the only one who’d prefer to escape the past... I finish washing her quickly so we can get out. The last thing I want is to upset Lucy’s parents, even if everything seems to have settled down.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #ona batlle #barca femeni #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze

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milanowhore · 11 months

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went downstairs for Sustenance and my wife one of my roommates was curled up in the fetal position in a chair with our dog and one of the cats on top of her there is so much love in the world if you only open your eyes

#it was so sweet #i am not in love with her despite the way this is worded #we have been best friends since high school she is basically my wife atp #we also run this house #one of our roommates is her bf and the other is basically a child #roommate drama goes NUTS #but yeah #we're kind of the Moms of the House (TM)#lilith archives

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broke-on-books · 1 year

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☕

The live action Scooby-Doo movies?

I did not see this ask until RIGHT now (first time on desktop since crab day, second time since Nov 5 2020 [which was DOUBLY experience since I got my phone taken the same day]) so I'm going to assume this ask got eaten on mobile because tumblr, HOWEVER you poked a bear with this ask anon (as I'm sure you knew when asking) SO without further ado: my Scooby Doo live action opinions

So when you say 'live action Scooby-Doo movies' I'm assuming you're talking about the James Gunn films, starting with Scooby-Doo (2002) followed by Scooby-Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed, just due to like, generally popularity and also the fact that I have actually seen those films. However shoot another ask if you wanted me to include Curse of the Lake Monster in this (because I will if anyone cares and turn this into a live-action scooby dissertation, i'd just need to like. watch the movie first) But anyways where I'm going with this is that this post is about the Gunn movies aka the ones with SMG, Freddie Prinze Jr., Linda Cardellini, and ofc our #1 man, Matthew Lilliard.

Okay so my take on these movies is... complicated. I wouldn't say it's as complicated as my feelings towards SDMI, because I watched the live actions way less as a kid and generally care less about them, but still no matter how much shit I throw at these two movies there are parts that I generally like (even love) that stops me from totally condemning them wholesale. Like the fact that these movies are FUNNY! There's so many moments from this duology that are just beyond iconic "like, that's one of my favorite names!" the whole thing with Scooby in the dress at the airport, ET. CETERA (like I can go on!)

The Gunn movies are genuinely SO fun and I can 100% see and understand how they've stood so well in the public view as a representation of Scooby. HOWEVER, this is where you start to see my problems with them. For the general American, (because that is the audience I'm familiar with) ESPECIALLY millennials and younger, who happen to make up the majority of both people on this site AND people I talk about Scooby with in real life, these movies, and the elements they introduced as "quintessential scooby tropes" are the base of their understanding of the Scooby franchise, along with likely some miscellaneous WAY episodes and maybe SDMI.

Which is where I get pissed off. In the pushing of the narrative of "breaking away" from the Scooby norm, Gunn basically invents (aka totally makes up) an idea of what classic era Scooby was like, cementing an idea of classic Scooby into the public mind that is totally disingenuous and just straight up false. For example, in attempting to portray Daphne as having taken strides to be seen more seriously in solving mysteries and defending herself, it pushes the narrative that in the classic era she WASN'T taken seriously, and only existed as a damsel-in-distress prop of a character, which is just not true??? Like yes, Daphne is clumsy, that's a part of her character, and her friends (because, fun fact, the gang ARE friends) joke about it sometimes because that's what friends DO. Framing that in some kind of sexist "that's all she does" lens is just total bull, especially as gang members fall into secret passageways/get lost etc. in WAY ALL THE DAMN TIME because that's how the plot functions! Like are we calling Velma ditzy for losing her glasses every other episode? Of course not, and Fred falls into passageways all the time, not to MENTION Shaggy and Scooby and all they get up to. Also one last thing on the topic of Daphne, like this idea of her mystery solving skills not being respected by the gang is just so supremely bullshit it amazes me sometimes, especially when she was the LEADER (or leader adjacent) through pretty much all of her appearances in the 1980s [Not that James Gunn could look at '80s era Scooby without spitting on it, but I digress]

AND THIS IS JUST DAPHNE! Like the perceptions pushed towards Fred (and Velma, but mostly Fred) through these movies are just as bad! Like okay, with Fred---In these movies Fred is just an asshole. I hate Gunn Movies!Fred. I mean yeah he can be funny but it's almost always so mean! Almost nothing makes me madder than a mean Fred by the way. If he's putting other gang members down (even halfway, like with his whole "dorky chicks like you turn me on too" line, which... ew) then to me something has gone very, very, VERY, wrong in your basic understanding of Frederick Herman Jones as a character. Like he's the cheerleader! He puts himself in between his friends and danger! He loves nets, and traps, and Elvis impressions, and wrestling, and the trapeze, and cars, and most of all he LOVES sharing the things he loves with his friends! (Sometimes to a bit of an extreme. No one wants to hear about your net facts, Fred) And the live action movies just don't understand that at all. And I know there's maybe something to say I suppose in that some of those aspects of his characterization hadn't been "established yet" by the time "Scooby-Doo" came out in 2002. But it's there if you look. For Fred Jones, being the leader means being the caretaker, (he's the Mom friend what can I say) and any version where he's cruel and arrogant and just DOESN'T CARE about his friends in the way he's shown to in the Gunn movies is just so far from Fred to me it's not even funny. And what makes it even worse for me is that this (or at least something similar) is the idea of Fred that has really spread to the popular culture. Just the "leader", the jock that makes the rules, the one that [insert X adaptation here] finally gave a personality and made interesting (something that has been said more times than I can count for pretty much every gang member, save Shaggy and Scooby).

And I haven't even touched on Velma, and how they gave her a bit of a early 2000s smart superiority girl complex against Daphne, plus the whole makeover thing and etc. etc. The Gunn Movies are pretty much what would happen if you took someone who hadn't seen Scooby since they were 7 years old (and honestly had a pretty negative outlook against it then) and tried to "fix" it, only his memory was so bad he just made up problems (and threw in a good helping of early 2000s style sexism with it) convincing pretty much the entirety of the popular culture that said problems exist and that Gunn was absolutely brilliant for fixing them (and then bringing up said "problems" whenever anyone wants to talk about Scooby) and this entire rant has been without even fucking MENTIONING what is probably the reason you, anonymous tumblr user sent this ask in the first place, to I, Swishy "Scrappy Doo Redemption Arc" Broke-on-books (dot tumblr dot com), which is his HIGHLY SUCESSFUL and utterly sadistic character assassination of my number one man, Scrappy Doo.

And I am going to try my damnedest here not to get totally into my highly passionate opinions over what James Gunn did to Scrappy in the first of his Scooby movies and how thoroughly it has pissed me the fuck off because I have been writing this post for over an hour now and if we start to really get into my feelings on this topic it will certainly be a couple of hours more but like. That Fucking Bitch. I give James Gunn personally a solid eighty-five percent of the blame for making my life as a Scrappy Doo fan UTTERLY unbearable with this stupid fucking movie alone, and just his Scrappy crimes would honestly be enough for me to say that I hate this movie, not even considering the numerous Scooby crimes I've been talking about here for the past million paragraphs, but the part about this movie that makes me the MOST mad the most pissed off is that it's actually a good fucking movie. James Gunn wrote two hilarious and entertaining movies that have become beloved in the popular culture for their successes in that arena, while at the same time pissing all over the core themes and messages of the franchise of which it was based, that of friendship.

TLDR; The Live Action Scooby Doo movies (written by James Gunn) are highly entertaining and fun pieces of media to watch, and are widely loved by the general public and looked at with fondness and nostalgia because of that. However, as a hardcore Scooby Doo fan (writing that phrase sounds so ridiculous but oh well) the existence of these movies and their impact on the popular culture can be extremely frustrating (despite any personal nostalgia said fan may have) due to their spreading of a misinformed picture of what "typical Scooby Doo" looks like. This picture is especially frustrating due to the fabrication or exaggeration of problems present in classic Scooby (such as sexism in regards to the girls), as well as giving more ammunition to other problems in Scooby fandom (such as oversexualization, and sexualization in general, which no one wants to see in regards to their children's cartoons, like HONESTLY.) Discussions of sexism and sexualization in Scooby (both of which ARE present and are issues, although not at their worst in WAY) can often lead to an overlooking of the issues that are very present and clear in WAY and have continued since then with far too little resistance (I'm 100% talking about the racism here) HOWEVER that topic deserves at least a dozen posts of its own that I am no way informed or qualified enough to even begin to think about writing. The Gunn Movies are frustrating to many longtime Scooby fans because of these reasons, but for me, and fellow Scrappy Doo fans there is also the added aspect of the demonization of Scrappy Doo in the live action movies and the affects that has had on the popular culture as well, making it uniquely inhospitable to like or enjoy the character of Scrappy. End post.

#that last sentence is such a weird tone jump btw but its because the topic flowed one way and i had to jump it back to a summary to actually #finish this monster of a post #SO anon i hope you're happy with this and this makes my opinion make some more sense. and you or anyone else is more than welcome to ask me #questions about anything i said here or my opinion on any and everything scooby related (and not) so if theres a specific aspect of this yo #would like expanded on i can definitely 100% do that for you or anyone who cares #also there are many complexities towards my feelings on these movies that i didnt get to hit on despite the monstrous size of this rant (il #check word count later but im not gonna fuck with it now because im terrified of deleting this post by accident) one of which is my lasting #fondness towards all of the actors in this movie. YES including freddie prinze jr. i may have major issues with his fred but hes also playe #characters i really really like. for example hes the va in this tv show i LOVE and havent watched in like 10 months despite the fact im on #the last season because freddie's character dies in like 7 episodes and i am NOT AT ALL emotionally prepared for that on any level because #that is my fictional father goddamnit!!!!!#also every buffy the vampire slayer gifset that crosses my dash gets me closer and closer to watching it because oh my god daphne!!!!! that #sarah michelle gellar thats daphne oh my god!!!! also i went and saw guardians of the galaxy 3 with my friend (despite not having seen a #marvel movie in 2+ years AND holding a grudge over james gunn's scooby doo crimes)[the things you do for {platonic} love amirite?]#and the title sequence SAID linda cardellini was in it and i got SO excited i was looking everywhere for her it was like wheres waldo in th #discount movie theatre FOR REAL and i just could NOT for the life of me find her (turns out she was VAing the ferret) so in a way linda mad #me cry with that role. whatever. istg i get so off topic i forget what i was even talking about but ANYWAYS <<<1 of my fave english words b #dubs (my favorite spanish word is el amanacer btw. it means sunrise. also burbujas because its bubbles and saying it sounds like bubbles #popping) BUT. AS I WAS SAYING. SEND ME ASKS IF YOU WANT SCOOBY DOO OPINIONS. DEAR GOD I GET SCATTERBRAINED SOMETIMES.#scooby doo #answered #anonymous #blah

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