Poisoned Mercury | Camprock! Au X Luke Castellan Series

IMAGINES LIKE THIS MAKE ME PISS MYSELF

When I read the story of Mohammed Alanqer ( @famousturtlebanana ) I was reminded of my own dear father, Christopher, and how much he protected me during my childhood, so I dedicated this poem to them both. There are more similarities between the Alanqar family in Gaza and my family in Australia than there are differences.

Mohammed was supporting his young family (wife Enas, and children Layan, Sarah and Adam) with a tech startup when war broke out in Gaza. During the war, young Amir was born.

His son Adam has hepatitis and his son Amir has blisters on his feet. He is struggling to provide food for his children because the prices of groceries in Gaza are so high, and there is no aid coming in.

You can help by donating to his GFM. If you cannot afford that, you can share this post. If you're a creative of any type, he would love you to create art for him.

His campaign is number #174 on el-shab-hussein and nabulsi's google doc as well as being reblogged by 90-ghost here

Tagging for reach

@wellwaterhysteria @cuntylouis @appsa @paper-mario-wiki @eastgaysian @a-shade-of-blue @ana-bananya @schoolhater @stuckinapril @thatsonehellofabird @roadimusprime @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @imjustheretotrytohelp

greed ☆ op81

genre: smut, affair, erotic literature, angst, forbidden romance, enemies to "lovers", a bit angst/yearning, established relationships, voyeurism

word count: 16.4k

greed (noun) — intense and selfish desire for something, especially wealth, power, or food.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...pwp, unprotected sex, missionary, riding, fingering, f!receiving, deep throat, m!receiving, finger sucking

inspired by red sex (re-strung) [rakhi singh]

cherry here!...had fun writing this one teheee. it's a long one, so definitely take breaks in between and enjoy. missed you guys!

Twirling your tongue around the bright pink straw, you blink blankly, quietly taking in the conversation that occurs in front of you. You should probably talk a bit, you remember thinking. Smile, at least, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to lie—you didn't want to be here.  

“I thought you hated pineapple?” 

Turning, you shrug half-heartedly over at Lando. “It makes my mouth itch,” you mumble, not enjoying a single sip of the smoothie. Well, except for the whipped cream. Taking a lick, your eyes stay connected onto his blue ones as he shakes his head. 

“Don’t drink it, then,” he tries, but you simply turn a blind eye, facing the complete opposite direction. From where you're sitting, you spot a group of kids playing jump rope. Even when one of them falls with a loud splat and starts to cry, you continue to stare.

“Oh no,” a soft voice gasps.  As soon as you hear it, you grind your teeth, hearing a slight crack immediately. “Poor baby.”

You like to think of yourself as an even person. Everyone who enters your life deserves a fair chance. You’ll get to know them—befriend them, perhaps—and if it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out, but no one can say you never tried.

But oh, how you hated Lily Zneimer.

The worst part of all is that there isn’t really a single reason for your sudden distaste towards her. On paper, you two should be the best of friends, but the one thing holding you back is sitting right in front of you.

Oscar clicks his tongue, a nice tick coming through as his sharp brows raise with surprise as he watches the scene unfold. He, too, sort of remains as stoic as you, but the one difference is that he has a bit more empathy. You lack a lot of that, you’ll be the first to admit. 

The cries continue, the young boy's parents suddenly alert by now as they run towards their child. “I’m sure he’s fine,” he says, squinting his eyes due to the bright sun. “It builds character.”

“Getting hurt?” Lily asks, frowning as she gently shoves his shoulder. “You really do have a heart made of ice.”

This gets a snicker out of your boyfriend, making you sigh, instantly checking out, but Lando is as happy as can be. While he enjoys the moment, you lack interest in it, and if it weren’t for the fact that the Australian was the one that invited you both out for drinks, then you would have happily been tucked away in bed. Make good use of the hotel perks and whatnot. 

The brown eyed driver swings a hand behind his girlfriend's chair, playfully tugging her hair, making her blush and making you recoil with disgust. Not that you ever show it, but you definitely feel it. “Maybe I do, but only you can make it melt.”

That’s enough to call it a day. Standing abruptly, the chair squeaks against the pavement as you share a tight lipped smile. All at once, their eyes look up at you as you force a yawn. “I think I’m going to head up now. Thanks for the invite,” you say. 

Lily pouts subtly, blue eyes round and hazy. “So soon? It’s still early.”

You nod, sparing her small smile, but deep within, the sound of her sweet voice begins to irritate you to the point you think you might snap. “The sun’s got me tired. I just need to lay down a bit.” Leaning forward, you peck Lando’s cheek, warm and sandy. “But I'll see you later, yeah?” 

“Sure,” she squeaks, waving numbly as they watch you walk away—practically fleeting, really. Humming sadly, the British girl looks down onto her lap, toying with her bracelets. “I don’t think she likes me much,” she mutters, wincing sheepishly. 

Oscar frowns. “That’s not true…”

Lando frantically nods, feeling bad for Lily and her first encounter with you being a total bust. Come to think of it, ever since the blue eyed girl has been around, you’ve been quite distant. “She hasn’t been sleeping well.” Lie. “She just needs to recharge, that’s all.”

-

You end up spending the next few days locked up in yours and Lando’s room. You avoid the paddock at all costs because you’re really not in the mood to see anyone—especially her. The British driver tried his best to get you out from these four walls, but gave up shortly after you blamed it on a migraine. You haven’t had one of those in years, but he learns to respect your decision. You do promise to be there for his race, though.

And as expected, you see her. Sat perfectly with her legs crossed, the young girl beams, motioning for you to join her on the open chair. At first you act like you don’t see her, preferring to stay standing for the next few hours rather than being pushed up next to her, but when she calls your name, you curse beneath your breath before making your way. 

“Hey,” you cheer, hugging her briefly before taking a seat. 

A giggle. “Hey. I heard you’ve been feeling a bit under the weather.”

“Huh?”

Lily blinks. “Lando said—”

In one quick motion, you click your fingers, nodding along. Right—Lando had lied on your behalf. It completely slipped your mind. Letting out a muffled groan, you wince theatrically, hoping she buys it. She does, worry quickly taking over her gentle gaze. “I have, yeah, I have.” Cheer’s erupt as the camera pans over to the fan zone, then back to the drivers that line up for the National Anthem. “But I'm much better now!”

Her concern slowly melts away as she smiles. “That’s good to hear.”

You would have not traveled with Lando to this week's race if you had known she would be here. Usually, she’s not, but you almost feel as if you know everything about her from how much Oscar talks about her. It gets exhausting hearing the same stories being told over and over again, as if she was the best thing to come around. Was it really that hard to just not bring her up?

But alas, you are here, and so is she. 

It feels like an eternity slowly goes by, so you’re quick to dart out the garage as you make your way towards the podium. The good thing is that she doesn’t need to because Oscar secured a lucky fourth place. Close, but not close enough. 

Running towards you after a round of media, Lando pecks your lips. He smells like a mix of champagne and sweat, not a completely unpleasant scent. He wiggles his brows. “Proud?”

You grin, eyes crinkling just the same as his. “Super.” Another kiss. “You were great out there.”

A subtle shade of red burns his nose as he smiles widely, pulling you towards the direction of McLaren Hospitality, leaving you to follow him as you admire the way everyone looks at him the same way you do. 

You like that he’s a winner. You like that you’re dating the winner. And that’s why you admire him, because he gives you the right to brag about him by simply being his girlfriend. The kind everyone wishes to be. Entering the familiar orange motorhome, you two are caught at a stop as soon as Zak calls out for Lando who turns curiously. 

“My man!” he cheers, making you take a step back and letting them have their moment. You listen for the first few minutes, but when it looks like the congratulatory might run deep, you claim a seat on the nearby sofa, scrolling through your phone to kill time. At some point, you look up to see them bid goodbye, sighing tiredly as you make your way up. Zak grins from ear to ear, pointing at you with nothing but radiant energy. “See you there!”

With that, he walks away, leaving you two alone once again. Raising a sharp brow, you tap Lando’s shoulder with confusion. “What does he mean by that?”

“He’s rented a yacht for the team to celebrate today's win,” he explains, guiding you towards the privacy of his room with a large hand on your lower back. “You know him—he likes to go all out.”

You hum, still walking up in front of him. “I figured you would want to go clubbing…”

There’s a cloudy sigh behind you as he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I mean, yeah, I do, but we should probably skip that and do this instead.” Reaching to twist the knob, you pause, turning to face him with a surprised expression. “What?”

“Nothing,” you respond, shaking your head. “Look at you maturing. You see, my Lando would have never preferred a classy yacht party instead of a trashy club.” 

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’ve changed.”

“Right,” you tease, finally opening the door, but as soon as you do, the room next to you squeaks, indicating someone exiting. Oscar and Lily come to a halt as soon as they spot you both. Your lips open in the smallest of gaps as they smile politely. 

“Congratulations,” the British girl is the first to break the silence as she goes in for a quick side hug, one that Lando accepts without missing a beat. “You must be over the moon.”

“I am,” your boyfriend lets out, still not used to the feeling of being first. A beat. “Hey, did Zak mention anything about—”

“The yacht party?” Oscar fills in with a loopy grin. Lando snickers, nodding at his guess. He shakes his head. “Yeah, but we can’t. I have to drive Lily to the airport.”

Intrigued by the fact, your brows dart up. “Ah, no way—you’re leaving already?”

“Yeah,” she says, smiling tiredly. “I have a few tests lined up for next week, and I can’t miss them.”

“Shame,” you hum, but the relief of not having her around anymore makes you feel a thousand times lighter. “I was going to suggest grabbing dinner next week…”

“Really?” Lando and Lily question in sync, both equally as surprised as one another. On the flipside, Oscar stands with an unrecognizable expression, making you avoid even looking at him because something about it somehow convinces you that he can see right past your lie.

Coughing awkwardly, you bob your head, catching the glimmer in her blue eyes as she holds her breath, almost. Something about it makes you feel bad, but just for a split second. “Yes, really, but it looks like we got a bit unlucky.”

Swiftly, Lily turns to face Oscar with a helpless expression, as if pleading for aid, but for him it was an easy decision. “You can’t skip out on exams,” he whispers lowly, but still clear enough for you to hear. “You know that.”

And sure—she does—but ever since she got here, she’s felt so out of place. Not with the team, not with two McLaren drivers as a duo, but rather with you. And now this? Any opportunity to have you as a friend is as good as gold in her eyes.

And to be quite honest, you didn’t expect for someone as truthful as Lily to lie to their professor in a lengthy email, claiming to be severely down with the flu in order to stay a couple extra days and catch that unpromising dinner you had made up as some way to get her to think you’d miss not having her around. This was your reality and you just had to deal with it.

But Oscar? 

Watching you carefully as you hug Lily back when she leaps with excitement into your arms, he squints with subtle suspicion in your character. Something in your rigidness and mannequin smile makes him want to pull the British girl away from you, feeling the need to protect his girlfriend's innocence. 

Smiling softly over her shoulder, you catch a glimpse of Oscar, making your stomach churn. His eyes remain on you for a second longer before sharing a smile of his own.

Yup, you think to yourself. 

He knows.

_

A week goes by at a snail's place. 

The four of you fly together to the next continent with nothing but fake enthusiasm. Well, fake from you, and unbeknownst, fake from Oscar, too.

He doesn’t know why he doesn’t trust you completely. In hindsight, you haven’t done anything wrong, but everytime you and Lily are together—which is most of the week—it feels like you have. Maybe it had something to do with the sinister glares you’d send her way when you thought no one was looking, or the fact that you’d have to take a heavy breath in preparation every time she’d greet you with a warm hug. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was seeing something that wasn’t there, but that doesn’t mean he’d be at ease for the rest of the week. 

Hence, dinner. 

You find yourself forced to make a reservation at one of the fanciest cuisine restaurants close to where you’re staying and that itself was annoying. You shouldn’t be doing any of this—she shouldn’t even be here.

Smiling gingerly, the British girl let out a small giggle at some joke Lando made. By the looks of it, it’s pretty funny, so you numbly follow her lead, though you have yet to know what it was. “You must be laughing all the time,” Lily notes, blue eyes focused on you with wonder. You hum, pursing your lips with uncertainty. She giggles harder. “Well because of how funny he is.”

Lando claps once, making you flinch in return. “Thank you! It’s about damn time someone appreciates my humor.”

“I do appreciate it,” you defend, slowly losing your patience. Licking your lips, you look back towards Lily who remains with a smile. “Don’t listen to him, he just likes the attention.”

“That I can agree on,” Oscar adds, cracking a grin of his own. Suddenly, you’re all into the discussion. The Australian sneers childishly. “You can’t seem to live a single moment without making things about yourself.”

“Oscar,” Lily warns, faint pink painting her pale skin. “Be nice.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Lando says, waving her off like it’s no big deal—which it’s not. He leans back against his chair, flipping his teammate off who scoffs lightheartedly. “This is how we talk. Right, Osc?”

“Right.”

Somewhere in between dessert, while you’re in the middle of licking your spoon clean, the invitation that came to ruin your life, comes up. Lily clears her throat nervously, suddenly worried by the thought of you turning her down. “I was meaning to ask…” Puzzled, you keep your eyes on her, awaiting her next words. She shrugs sheepishly. “Well, I graduate this summer, and Oscar is throwing me a party up in North Carolina…” She trails off, gathering her words. “I was wondering if you two would like to come?”

“Oh,” Lando's voice comes through like a muffle, mouth full of cheesecake. He swallows, blue eyes flickering between the couple and his girlfriend who remains with a blank expression, metal spoon still in place. “I mean—yeah. Right?”

Unfreezing, you place the utensil down onto your plate, smiling weakly. “Uh…yeah.” Lily grins, letting out a breath of relief, making Oscar frown over the realization that your response mattered so much to her. You nod robotically. “Sure, why not?”

“Great!” Lily cheers, beaming like a kid on Christmas Day. “And don’t worry about spending on a hotel—we’ve got you covered.”

You blink, bewildered. “You do?” 

She nods. “Of course, we do! You’re our guests, you’ll be staying with us.”

Your boyfriend smiles faintly. “That’s kind of you, but it’s really no problem. We wouldn’t want to overcrowd.”

“Nonsense,” the Australian speaks up, shaking his head, brown strands of hair swinging in the slightest. “We have plenty of room. All of our family and friends are already staying in the hotel nearby—it’d be nice to have a bit of company.” His eyes soften, making your heart beat a little faster. “What do you say?”

It feels like he’s looking directly at you—chocolate orbs as sweet as can be. As if nothing else exists in this moment if it’s not you or him. But in reality, his attention is focused on your boyfriend, awaiting his response.

Not yours.

Flustered, you poke Lando’s leg beneath the table, hoping he takes the hint. Blue eyes flicker towards your direction for a millisecond before returning with a nod. “Looks like you have two roomies.”

Lily squeals, smiling brightly as Oscar’s lips remain in a thin line, his version of a smile. 

And if he could turn back time…

He really fucking would.

-

Once the season ends, everyone is on a high. Lando for coming in second in the Driver’s Championship and for bringing in the Constructors Championship for the first time in years, and Oscar for the latter. Regardless, it was an outstanding season for the two of them. 

You and the Brit end up flying in a few days later due to going back home to pack a few more necessities, but once you’ve got that all figured out, you find yourselves in the middle of a heatstroke, making you second guess all your life's choices all at once. 

“It feels as if my skin’s melting off,” you groan, fanning yourself with the roadmap, because as it came, satellites are utter shit when it comes to where you’re staying. Lando tries to convince you that having no internet for a few weeks isn’t all that bad, but as soon as a twenty minute drive turns into a one hour drive due to getting lost without the guidance of a GPS, he regrets his words. You roll your eyes, narrating as he finally pulls up to the driveway of what appears to be the best looking house in all of North Carolina. 

He whistles. “If it weren’t so hot during the summer, I’d definitely move here.”

Scoffing, you exit the car rental, looking up at the navy blue house where green ivy hangs. “We are not moving here. I’d rather die.”

“Fair,” he mumbles as he makes his way towards the front door, you right on his heels. Swinging the door open, you two are instantly hit with the fresh gust of air. “Thank God,” Lando moans, loving the fact that the AC is the only thing preventing him from fainting. 

Pushing him in, you make sure to close the door behind you as you shut your eyes with sweet relief. Somewhere towards the end of the hall, you hear shoes squeak against the wooden tiles. Lily waves, hair up in a similar ponytail as yours, as she smiles as warm as the weather that nearly cost you your life. “You made it!”

“We sure did,” you respond, gritting your teeth in order to prevent yourself from letting out some snarky remark. Not that she deserves it, of course she doesn’t, but you couldn’t help it. Pointing back towards the wooden door, you wince apologetically. “Sorry to barge in. Someone didn’t bother knocking.”

Lando makes a face, then turns to the blue eyed girl with a playful smile. “You don’t mind, do you, Lily?”

She shakes her head, pursuing her lips with delight. “Not at all. We left it open knowing you two would show up. We’ve been fixing the guest bedroom for the past hour and we didn’t want to run the risk of not hearing you knock, so…I guess it all worked out just fine.”

“See? Lily says it worked out just fine,” your boyfriend says smugly as you roll your eyes, not at all impressed with his sudden cockines. “Where is Oscar, by the way?”

Lily signals upstairs, then blushes. “Do you mind helping me grab a few things from the car, Lando?” A shy chuckle. “It’s just we went out for some party essentials last night, but we were too tired to bring them in, and the box is too heavy, and Oscar is pretty busy, and I’d hate to bother him, and—”

“Sure,” Lando cuts off her rambling. “That way I can grab our suitcases, too.”

“Fantastic,” she hoots, dusting her hands against her shorts as she grabs a set of car keys from the kitchen table. Turning to you, she grimaces. “Do you mind checking up on Oscar?”

Your plump lips part, a line of dehydration hung upon them. “I would, but I should help Lando—”

“It’s okay,” your boyfriend fills in. “I’ve got it all under control.”

Lily pleads silently, brows drawn in together. “You’d really be doing me a favor. It’s just that he was in the middle of fixing the duvet and he tends to run out of patience if he doesn’t get it right away.” A chuckle. “Please?”

Which is how you find yourself in a room, alone with the one person you probably shouldn’t be alone with, but find yourself wishing that were always the case. Alone with one another, that is. Gently knocking on the already open door feels like the right thing to do, so you do just that. Alerted by the sound, the Australian’s head jerks up, brown eyes caught against yours.

You tilt your head slightly, like some greet. “Lily sent me,” you find yourself explaining as he sighs, resting on the unmade bed. Leaning against the doorframe, you bite the inside of your cheek, not knowing what to say next.

He huffs. “Of course she did.” A snort. “Sorry your room still isn’t ready. It's just that, I, uh…can't seem to get this right,” he admits, shyly scratching the back of his neck as he motions towards the unmade mess. “Lily always helps, but she’s a bit busy right now, and I'd hate to bother her, and—”

“I can help.”

A pause, then: “Oh, don't worry, you don't need to do that. You’re our guests.”

Chuckling, you shake your head, already making a move to grab the sheets. Taking hold of one corner, you signal for him to do the same, the Australian instantly catching on and taking hold of the opposite side. Aligning it, you look up at him, watching as he focuses on your hands and repeats the order. You smile, going for more and doing it all over again. Once it's perfectly laid out, you take a step back. “Not too shabby.”

“Huh,” he muttered, blinking with amazement. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” you say, fixing the mountain of pillows before taking it in with a gentle smile. “Lando’s excited to be here.”

Oscar looks up, neat brows raising. “Is he?”

“Mhm,” you hum, finally connecting your gaze to his. From this distance—close—you note the faint trace of cologne that hugs him, along with a thin layer of sweat. Grinding your molars, you fume silently within you as you catch it—her perfume. You wonder how close she had to have been in order for it to imprint on him, but as soon as you ponder for too long about it, you shake your head, acting as if you’re brushing away some invisible dust. “He’s looking forward to jet skiing.”

A deep chuckle. Pressing his back against the wall, he crosses his arm, giving you a clear view of his muscles that pulse like the world's biggest temptation. If you had the chance—just one—you’d kiss them the way you've fantasized for so long now.

He opens his mouth, about to say something that's going to change everything amongst you two, but bails at the last minute, shaking his head as if he barely caught himself. Intrigued, you raise a neat brow. “What's wrong?” you ask, feeling far too curious. 

Oscar tsks. “No, uh, it's nothing.” A beat, then he looks up, squinting his eyes skeptically, as if you're a puzzle he can't quite figure out. He's looking at you the same way he did that day you lied about planning the dinner, and that itself makes your stomach dip. Suddenly, you're not as interested in finding out what he has to say anymore. “Lily loves you, you know that?”

Not what you were expecting. “She does?”

“Yeah…” he mumbles, orbs still trained on you. You want him to look away—you need him to look away. Pink lips curl into something of a scoff. The Australian’s eyes darken, making you freeze with trepidation. “She thinks you’re great.” Opening his arms like some grand gesture, he motions towards the lively room. “I mean, look at her. She’s trying her best to please you.”

Something about the way he says it makes you feel as if he’s not that fond of Lily’s behavior. As if you don’t deserve her kindness, even just a sprinkle of it. Pursing your lips, you rock against the heels of your feet. “And I appreciate that, I really do.” A hint of hesitation. “And I like Lily, as well—”

A raw chuckle. Blinking, you catch him shaking his head, brown eyes shut in disbelief, and when he opens them once again, it’s not that kind-hearted and easy-going Australian you’ve come to know—no. He’s broad, and cold, and guarded. 

“No you don’t.”

You gulp, laughing awkwardly as you rub your forearm, feeling the heat of shame radiate off your body. “What are you talking about? She’s super sweet—”

“I never said she wasn’t,” he cuts you off again, this time a bit harsher. Enough to take a step back. Your heart races times a million at this point, palms moist with sweat. “I never said she wasn’t sweet—I don’t doubt that even for a second. But I know that you’re lying, and I know that you hate her.” A beat. “Why?”

“I do like her,” you continue to insist, feeling claustrophobic all of a sudden. “What makes you even think otherwise?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at her,” he says, accent sharper than usual. “Like you wish her the worst—I know what hate looks like.”

This time, you grab what’s left of your courage, and look at him straight in the eyes, not backing down. “Yeah? And what does hate look like?”

“You’re looking at it.”

It’s as if an ice cold bucket of water is thrown at you with no alert. His insinuation makes you want to recoil, but if you do, then he’d know he’s gotten to you, and if he gets to you, then he’ll figure the rest of it out. 

“I’m sorry, that was rude.” He smiles tauntingly, inching close and tilting his head as he opens his mouth. “I just don’t like you, that’s all. I’m not cruel enough to hate.” Cruel. He’s calling you cruel. He knows, therefore, you’re cruel. The word itself shouldn’t affect you this much, but it does. Narrowing your eyes, you push him away, but he doesn't budge. Instead, he cocks his head in question with little to no surprise. “What? You don’t like hearing the truth of what you are? Did you really think you were a good person?”

“Look,” you finally speak, glaring. “I don’t know what you think you’ve seen, but I don’t hate Lily. For God sakes, I barely even know her!”

“Exactly!” he shouts back, breaking. “Which is why I’m more than confused! What has she done to you?”

Have possession over you, you think to yourself as you pant, blink with defeat. I hate her because what she’s done to me is have possession over you, and that’s not fair.

“I—”

“Hey,” a soft voice melts into the room, Lily coming into view, cheeks flushed. “Is everything alright in here? We thought we heard yelling.” 

Standing behind her, frowning over her shoulder, Lando stares with a lost expression. Everything indicates that there had been some sort of altercation, but the smiles you two wear are enough to try and convince them otherwise. Walking towards her, Oscar wraps his arm around her waist, pecking her temple as she blinks, still worried. “What? That’s absurd. We were simply talking. Weren’t we?”

It takes you a minute to register that he’s talking to you, so when you do answer, it’s nothing but a whisper. “Yeah… just, yeah.” You shake your head, blinking hastily. “We were just talking.”

“Are you sure?” Lando asks, pushing past the couple as he rushes to you, large hand grabbing your wrist softly as he looks at you. His gaze flickers momentarily toward Oscar, as if accusing him for doing something, in return, making the Australian frown for his sudden distrust. As if he’s the bad guy. 

You nod, plump lips formed into a thin line. “Yup,” you say, attention flickering down to where Oscar keeps Lily secure against his touch. As if you’re the bad guy. You chuckle, shrugging. “He was thanking me for helping him do something so easy as setting a bed.”

Oscar clenches his jaw. “Yeah. Thanking you.”

Anyone who knows you, knows that you’re a decent human being. There’s not much to contradict that. But no one will ever know you the way you know yourself. Because if they did?

They’d find out that there was no one greedier….

Than you.

-

Dinner that night is homemade pizza. Lily followed a recipe. 

It’s quite delicious, sure, and you’re able to make that note due to that one small bite you had before you ditch it for your mimosa. Lando tries to get you to eat, but you gently promise him that you’re just not that hungry. You see the way Oscar stares, feeling bad for his girlfriend who spent hours making this for you. She excuses herself, rushing towards the kitchen as the Australian apologizes, following after her.

Turning abruptly, the British boy huffs, causing commotion. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”

“This again?” you groan. “I already told you—nothing. Drop it.”

“What’d he say to you?” he questions, a layer of curiosity making an appearance. “Did he say something to offend you?”

“No,” you hum against your glass. “He did not.”

“Did you say something to offend him?” he switches the inquiry, making you glare. 

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?”

Lando sighs, relaxing against his chair once again. He takes a bite, swallows, then takes another. “I get the sense that you’re keeping something from me—you’re not like that.”

Actually, you are. He just doesn’t know it. Placing a hand over his, you hum, calming him down as he connects his gaze onto yours, eyes as soft as jello. “He might’ve lost his temper on me a bit.”

“What?” he screeches, making you hush him.

“Let me finish,” you hiss. He nods, curls bouncing. “He couldn’t get the sheets to stay in place. Remember how Lily said he tends to lose patience because of that?” Another nod. You shrug. “Well, that was it. We just didn’t want you two to make a big deal out of nothing. Much like now,” you point out, spotting a subtle blush threatening his cheeks. 

“Well, forgive me for looking out for you,” he sings. “I care, you know?”

“And I thank you for that, darling, but you can let go of it now, right?”

“Definitely.”

He doesn’t. Matter of fact, as soon as the couple makes their way back, it’s the first thing he brings up, teasing his teammate who blinks, confused, then: “Oh. Yeah. Right. I had a bit of a moment where I couldn’t get the…yeah. That was it.”

Lily rolls her blue eyes. “Didn’t I warn ya?”

You giggle. “You did, you really did.”

There isn’t much to do from that point on, the sun has set and the moon hangs as bright as headlights. Lando knocks out after a much needed shower, and while you can’t sleep with wet hair, you settle on fixing yourself up a tea now that it’s cooled down. 

Walking barefoot towards the lake, you hum, finding peace with the way crickets sing. Blue, gentle waves sway back and forth as you look beyond, mind at peace. That is until you hear a small cough. Startled, you search for the culprit and you find him, laid down on the grass. 

“Can’t sleep?”

Oscar sighs. “I’d rather not talk to you right now.”

“Or ever?” you offer, but he doesn’t find you humor all that entertaining. Making your way, you find a space next to him. “You can’t ignore me, you know that? We’re about to spend a month together. That, and you’re my boyfriend's teammate. I see you on track.”

He disregards the fact that you're right, sitting up instead, laying his arms over his bent knees. “What’s your game?”

“I don’t have one,” you say softly. “I’m just here to have fun—it’s summer.”

A scoff. “I’m serious—what do you want from us?”

There was a point in time when you first met the Australian where you remember thinking: this is a boy. His arms were twigs, his neck was small, and his fireproofs fit him loosely.

Fastword, a year later: everything has taken a turn. Oscar Piastri has matured, and now—now you want him. 

“My parents had my sister three years after they had me.” Oscar cocks his head, puzzled as to why you’re telling him this. You continue, occasionally sipping on your tea. “And the months leading to her birth, they always told me how lucky I’d feel to have her once she was born. Then she was,” you say. “And you know what I felt?”

“Lucky?” he finds himself guessing quietly. 

You shake your head, causing his brows to jump up with surprise. “I love her, I do, but I think that was the moment I realized I didn’t like to share. I wanted my parents to stay my parents, and not hers. I wanted my grandparents to stay my grandparents, and not hers. And…once we grew up and we were old enough to date—I wanted her boyfriends to like me more than they liked her.”

Quiet, his eyes linger with disgust. “I love knowing that I can get away with it—get what I want.” This time, you look at him, and it hits him all at once: you want him. You smile, like what you’re saying is funny and not fucked. A giggle. “You’re a smart individual, Oscar. Do you get what I’m saying?”

He does. And it makes his stomach knot. 

“I’m in love with Lily,” he states, as if that will make you back off. “I’m. In. Love. With. Lily.”

But he can tell you don’t care. You never have, and you never will. And the fact that she has you is why you hate her. He sees that now. 

Standing, your knees are at his eye level, forcing him to look away, forcing him to look up. You hold power in this stance, and he’s basically at your knees—worshiping you. He doesn’t like that. In one fast movement, he jumps up, towering over you, but that’s fine. It doesn’t matter. And he realizes he can never win when it comes to you because it seems you like that too. 

He gulps. You grin.

“Doesn't matter.”

-

You’re playing a dangerous game.

It starts early in the morning and ends late at night. At times, he feels like a kid hiding behind his mum's skirt, practically sticking to Lily like superglue, and normally she loves that, but with how busy she is with graduation, she pushes him off most times now. It’s always: Oscar, no or Oscar, what now? He can’t seem to get it right.

“Why don’t you go jet skiing with Lando?” you speak up and he finds it weird that you’re helping him out. The British girl nods. Yeah! Why don’t you? He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

They come back with fresh sunburns and a couple new freckles. Lando’s curls are hard from the sea salt, so he gives you a quick kiss, running up stairs for a quick shower. He’s been having lots of those. Not even a minute later, Oscar goes on to do the same. 

Somewhere along the line, you hear your name, and you know what that means. Rolling your eyes, you look over at the blue eyed girl. “I bet you he forgot his towels—”

I forgot my towels!

Giggling, Lily shakes her head, muttering ‘boys’, then signals towards her room. “I just washed some, you can grab them from our cabinet.”

“Thanks,” you chirp, making your way. While yours and Lando’s room sits at the far right side of the hall, Oscar’s and Lily’s is on the left. And you never meant to walk in on him, not at all, but you did. 

Swinging the door open, you’re caught face to face with a shirtless Oscar, dying his wet hair with a blue towel. He freezes. “W-what are you doing here?” he stutters.

You try not to stare, you really do, but you can’t help it. His body is solid, chiseled, even. His skin is moist from lathering lotion and that’s enough to make your head spin. And yet, you don’t let him see that. Pushing past him, you dig your hand deep into the cabinet, pulling two fresh towels, similar to his. He frowns.

“Just grabbing towels for my boyfriend.” Smile. “See you.”

Is this how you get people to fall for you? By not seeming desperate? Because while he knows that you want him, you sure don’t show it, and that definitely confuses him.

That same night, you four are watching a movie in the living room. Cherry Falls to be exact. The entire way through, you’re curled into Lando’s chest under a blanket. On the other side of the long couch, Lily and Oscar sit as straight as can be, but his arm remains over her shoulder, keeping her safe. 

You’re not jealous over something like that, but when she flinches during certain scenes and he comforts her, that gets you. “Hey,” you start, whispering into the Brit’s ear. Green eyes are stuck on the screen, nodding robotically. Yeah? You kiss his warm skin, making him jump. “Why don’t you and I go to bed?”

“Bed?” he asks, slow and unsure where you’re headed. “Already? But…we’re halfway through.” You yawn, rubbing a hand along his thigh. He blushes, impressed with how cool you’re able to play it. Coughing, he nods excitedly. “I think we’re done for the day,” he announces, a bit too loud.

Lily pauses the movie, tilting her head curiously. “Aw, but we’re halfway through…”

“I know,” you add, smiling apologetically. “But I’m just so tired.”

“As am I!” Lando cuts you off, voice squeaky. He shakes his head, blinking hastily, then clears his throat. “But please, don’t let us stop you from finishing the movie.”

“Yeah,” you quip, getting up, about to walk away when Lando reaches for your hips, keeping you in front of him. It doesn’t take much to feel his bulge pressed against your ass. He laughs awkwardly. “We still have that picnic tomorrow, don’t we?”

“We do,” Lily cheers, smiling widely. “Oh, I’m so excited!” Turning to face the Australian, who hasn’t said much up until now, just stares blankly, she taps his knee. “We should probably go to sleep, too.”

“No!” Lando yelps, blushing bright red as the blue eyed girl frowns. “Keep on watching. Keep the telly on. In fact…” He reaches for the control. “Turn up the volume.” 

“Great idea,” Lily says, pursing her lips as the numbers go up on the screen. “Alright then, you two go rest.”

“Thank you,” you reply, walking carefully in front of the British boy who still tries his best to hide behind you, waving sheepishly. “See you in the morning!”

Oscar really underestimated how naive Lily can be. While she was wide-eyed enough to believe that you two were ready to knock out, he knew the truth. Pecking her cheek, he makes a stand, making his girlfriend pout. “Where are you going? I thought we were gonna finish the movie?”

“We are,” he promises, smiling gently. “I’m just gonna run to the restroom real quick. Be right back.”

Running up the stairs, two steps at a time, he rushes to your side of the hall, quickly identifying small moans. He stops dead in his tracks, heart stuck in his throat, and he doesn’t know why. 

Fuck, baby, he hears Lando groan. Oscar grimaces, shutting his eyes with discomfort. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn’t have his ear pressed against the door, intruding in your guys’ private sex life. 

He shouldn't be bothered so much. Or at all.

Lando, you whine, surely writhing with pleasure. The sound makes him break a sweat, makes his brain go fuzzy. He can’t even think properly. And he knows this is wrong—on so many levels—but what’s worse is that he wishes Lando were dead. 

Skin to skin contact makes his jaw clench with anger. The fact that he knows what you feel like makes him want to barge in and rip you two apart. And it dawns on him—why does he care so much?

“No,” he mutters, taking a step back as if the door were made out of lava. He blinks hastily, shaking his head harshly until he feels his brain jump from side to side. “God, no…”

It’s official—you have his attention.

Without even making a move.

-

You feel his gaze on you. You don’t even have to look and see to know that it’s him and not Lando. Lando’s gaze doesn’t burn, but his? His zaps. Looking up from where you rested on the red gingham blanket Lily rolled onto the fresh grass, you squinted behind your glasses, making eye contact with the Australian. 

You know you have him.

Reaching into your bag, you grab your sunscreen, squirting it onto your legs, making sure to lather it on in a teasing manner. You rub up and down, slow and steady. Briskly, he looks away, paying attention to his teammate who continues to ramble on and on about nothing in particular. 

Not as particular as you.

“I love having you two around,” Lily says, ripping your gaze away like one would their band aid. She hums, gingerly fixing her floppy hat and motioning towards your sunscreen. Go right ahead. “Thank you,” she replies sweetly. A beat. “I have a favor to ask.” This get’s your attention. Furrowing your brows, you nod, urging her to continue. “So, I’m in a bit of a predicament.”

“What is it?”

Lily blushes, as if she’s too embarrassed to admit. “Remember how I skipped a few exams in order to extend my stay the first time we met? In order to have that dinner with both you and Lando?”

“Yeah,” you say, still uncertain about where this might possibly lead. “I think I do.”

She cringes. “I never took them.”

“What?”

“I know! And now my advisor is telling me I won’t be able to graduate if I don’t find a way to take them, and I don’t know what to do!” She groans, bumping the edge of her palm against her forehead. “Oh God, Oscar is going to be so mad at me.”

“Okay, calm down,” you soothe her. “Have you tried reaching out to your professor?”

“Not yet,” she mumbles, tears pooling the corner of her eyes, making you feel just a dash of pity. “Should I?”

“Yes,” you respond quickly. “You should. Ask them if there’s any way to take those exams. Say you’re sorry—like really sorry. They have to be able to tell that you never meant to skip out in the first place.”

“I didn’t,” she squeaks, voice wavering. “I’m not usually like this, but…” Her blue eyes flicker down to her lap, fingers playing nervously with the hem of her shirt. “I just really want to fix this and graduate on time. Everyone is counting on that!”

“You’re going to walk that stage, Lily, alright? You just need to keep your eye on the prize.” Sighing, you unlock your phone, handing it to her. “E-mail them right now.”

“O-okay,” she sutter, eyes softening. “Thank you for being such a great friend.”

You blink. “Oh. Yeah—anytime.”

She finds privacy back in the parking lot, leaving you alone with the boys deep in the horizon. It’s peak golden-hour, so they look significantly tan. You smile, lying back down, glasses hugging the curve of your nose. You’re halfway asleep at one point, but as soon as you feel a droplet fall onto you, you peek an eye open.

“Where’s Lily?” Oscar questions, furrowing his dark brows.

You roll your eyes. “She went to get something from the car.” She probably wouldn’t like Oscar knowing the truth, and you’re not one to tell it. You wave your hand dismissively. “Now move—you’re blocking the sun.”

Grinding his teeth, the Australian scoots, but his eyes remain down on you. You lay tan now, white bikini standing out against your skin. Brown eyes trails down your legs, spotting an ankle bracelet. He hums. “What’s it say?”

You sigh. “Could you be more specific?”

He kicks your feet, making you lean against your elbows, staring at him coldly. Noticing what he was referring to, you lick your lips. “It's the number four.”

“Four?” he asks plainly. “Why four?”

“I’m really trying to relax,” you spit, taking your sunglasses off and glaring. “You’d be doing me a huge favor if you just left me alone.”

Aren’t you supposed to want him? Aren’t you the one who's supposed to be chasing after him? 

The tips of his ears burn bright red, and not from the sun. Seeing as he wasn’t leaving, you let out a heavy breath. “He asked me out on April fourth—fourth month, fourth day. His racing number is four.” You make a face. “Do you get it or do you need further explanation?”

He ignores the dig. “Why an ankle bracelet, though? Why not a ring or a necklace?”

Your red lips part open, then close. His guts twist with jealousy once he comes to the realization. The reason it’s an ankle bracelet its so that anytime he fucks you, legs dangled over his shoulders, he could admire it. Seeing as he figured it out without having you respond makes you blush. 

“Ankle bracelets are my favorite.”

His eyes darken. “You know what? Next time you two fuck, why don’t you moan a little less loud?”

Your neat brows lift up with surprise. “How are you so sure we already did?”

He pauses, clearly caught on spying. He swallows. “You sound like a pornstar.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” You laugh. “Lando doesn’t seem to mind. In fact…” Biting down on your bottom lip, you blink innocently up at him as his breathing pattern becomes uneven. “He fucking loves it.”

God—what were you doing to him?

Just as he’s about to speak, Lando calls out for him and Lily calls out for you. Where are the beers, mate? The Australian spins back and lets out a lousy smile. “On it, give me a second!”

As he turns again, you’re already up on your feet, adjusting your bikini and throwing Lando’s shirt over your head. The sight alone irks Oscar more than he’d like to admit. “I should go see what Lily needs,” you sing teasingly. Spinning on your heels, you stop, cocking your head to the side and giving him one last glance. “Oh, and Oscar?”

You point down to his hard on imprinted on his short. Horrified, heat rushes to his cheeks.

“Don't get so excited over nothing.”

-

What appears to be the first time in her life, Lily lies to Oscar. 

They need some last minute measurements for my cap and gown, she explains, puffing her cheeks as if the thought of flying back home is too much of a tassel, and not a necessity—she has to go back and take her exams. She had received an extension, but the only catch was that she had to take them in person, as originally planned. I’ll be back in a week. 

The Australian tries to tag along with his girlfriend because the thought of being left alone to third wheel a couple who probably fucks 24/7 is too unbearble. But as expected, Lily declines, claiming it’d be rude for both hostesses to leave their guests behind. And all would’ve been fine if Lando’s father hadn't broken his clavicle playing rugby. 

“Do you really have to leave?” you sigh, zipping his suitcase. 

He nods. “Mum would kill me if I didn't show up.”

“I’ll miss you.”

A soft smile. Pecking your lips, his thumb rubs against your cheek lovingly. “I’ll be back before you know it. Time will fly by.”

Which is how you and Oscar find yourselves sharing a large house with a million desires. He's quick to note that you have a thing for summer dresses—and so does he, apparently. Jaw clenched, he carefully watches as you cut up a variety of fruit, humming as you prepare yourself a plate. You hum a soft melody, making him more and more intrigued to know what it was. 

“Love in the Morning. Ennio Morricone,” he hears you say, munching on a slice of watermelon, walking towards the living room. There, on T.V., plays an unknown reality show, but he's not paying much attention, either way. No, his gaze is stuck on you, focused on the way you stretch your legs onto the coffee table, the rest of your upper body resting against the comfy couch. You swallow, reaching for a piece of mango. “One of my favorite instrumentals.”

It's one of his, too, and not because he knows it by heart, but because you do. Because you sound so beautiful, like a siren, when you hum it. He wonders if you're aware of the power you hold. Though, the way you ignore him lets him know that you do. 

Against the sunlight, the one that peeks through the open window and summer skies, your ankle bracelet shines, blinding him, almost. He feels his chest grow tight—so much so, that it hurts to breathe regularly—and he has to remind himself that this isn’t normal—this isn’t normal. 

Since when did you matter this much to him? Since when did you affect him this much? 

Without a second thought, he claims a spot next to you on the couch, reaching for a berry and popping it in his mouth. You bite the inside of your cheek, somehow satisfied by this small action of his. “Tell me a bit about yourself.”

You blink, caught off guard. In all your time of knowing the Australian, he never once bothered to get to know you—really get to know you. He never cared, not even in the slightest. But now, in a turn of events, he does. Squinting suspiciously—teasingly—you shake your head, vanilla perfume radiating off your skin. 

“No.”

His lips turn downwards. “No?”

“No,” you repeat, flipping through the channels, pretending he wasn’t even there. A click. “Why should I?”

Because suddenly, you’re the only one in my mind.

He bites down on his tongue, tasting a hint of blood. “I’m not into you, don’t flatter yourself.”

“I never said you were,” you say, a bored tone evident. 

Oscar’s hands get clammy, thankful for having them pressed against his lap. Maybe he can still make a run for it. To his room. Back to Australia. He doesn’t even care where, exactly, but far, far, far from you. That way, he wouldn’t feel so grossed out in wanting to know more about his teammate's girlfriend. The one whom he never thought about once before this trip. And how can he even defend his honor?

You got into his head.

You don’t register what he’s doing—not instantly, at least—but before you know it, he’s pushing your legs off the coffee table, claiming a seat there, instead. Now, rather than having a clear view of the television, you have one of him. Large and desperate and perfect. 

He narrows his eyes, sharp and threatening. “Are you glad that both Lily and Lando are gone?”

“Nope,” you respond, popping the p. “Why would I?”

Why would you? Geez, who really knows? Oh, maybe because now you have me all to yourself, and isn’t that what you wanted all along? Why don’t you want me anymore? 

Slightly grinning, Oscar lets out a raw chuckle, making you want to jump onto his thick lap and lick up his neck. You bet it’d taste like salt and cologne, but the mere thought sounds like a dream. A wild, wild dream. 

“I know you think about me.”

Zero reaction. Unimpressed, you push your bottom lip out, wagging your index finger at him before pressing it against his cheek, making him pause because that alone makes his skin burn. You push, forcing a dimple before doing the last thing he’d ever thought you’d do.

Slap him.

He thinks he’s imagining it, and you didn’t just do that, but the smug look on your face and the sting on his lets him know that he isn’t picturing it, and you did just do that. You smile sweetly, standing and ditching your place right in front of him, making your way towards the stairs. 

“Get a life, Oscar. Not everything is about you.”

You like to mess with people’s sanity. That must be it because—what the fuck is wrong with you?

First, you insinuate lusting over him. Later, you put on a show for him every chance you get. And now? Now you toy with him, making him feel like the crazy one. And one thing’s for sure.

He is not crazy.

You barely have a foot up one stair when you’re pulled back, and before you know it, pushed down to sit on the step, the Australian kneeled down in front of you. You breath hitches, eyes as wide as cherry pies. His brows are drawn in softly, a pink tint dusting his ears like some shy teen. 

“Maybe not—but everything is about you.”

You always knew you’d get him, and you knew exactly how you’d do it. You’d plant the seed and have him come running to you. It always works. I mean, it’s how you got Lando, after all. 

But Lando was a want. Oscar is a need.

With his knees still glued onto the ground, the brunette leans down and kisses your ankle, laying his lips flat as you gasp softly, feeling the familiar bracelet dig into your skin. 

“Tell me you think about me too,” he whispers pathetically—fragile. Another kiss, this time up your calf. “What do I have to do in order to get you to say it?” 

“You’re insane,” you mumble, orbs stuck on the top of his head, shaggy hair hanging loosely before he looks up at you, past his lashes. Butterflies erupt. 

Up your thigh, he licks you, tasting your lotion, but he doesn’t seem to mind the bitter taste. “Come on—I want you.” He sucks, forming a purple bruise. “Don’t you want me, too?”

You do. You fucking crave every piece of him. But you can’t let him know that. And you really do try your best to fight him off, but as soon as he starts curling his fist around your small dress, you’re just as good as gone. 

A tiny moan rings through the air, then a pant follows. He’s barely even touched you and he’s already knocked the air straight from your lungs. 

“I d-do, Oscar.” Whine. “I do want you.”

And just like that—he’s taken whatever power you were claiming onto—back.

Letting go of your dress, he chuckles, enjoying your out of breath state, and standing, making you feel small as you blink, confused as to why he stopped.

Dark eyes glint sinisterly as he kicks your open legs together, not too hard, but still enough to make you jolt with surprise, leaning your elbows up against the step, brows furrowed. 

A beat. “You really are a pretty little thing.”

And with that, he walks away, leaving you to feel abandoned.

-

It’s a brutal game of tug-of-war. One where both of your guys’ hands are burning from trying not to be the first to let go.

The first to admit defeat.

Though, it seems like the days grow longer, your dresses fall shorter, and his mind is hazier. All of which is making it more difficult to keep a distance. That is, until Lily FaceTimes Oscar.

“I need to buy some flowers.”

Mid-bite, his teeth push down on his apple, eyes glued on her. He pulls away, drying his mouth with the back of his hand. “Won’t they dry out before the party?”

She shakes her head, highlighting what looks to be a set of notes. “That's why you're going to get carnations. They last longer.”

“Is that so?” he entertains, smiling gently when she bites down on her marker, brows furrowed as she reads her piece of paper. Throwing away what's left of his fruit, he hums. “Alright, I’ll take care of it tomorrow, don't worry.”

“Oh no, tomorrow won’t work. You have to do it today.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“Because she's only available today. She's going dress shopping tomorrow.”

He doesn't even have to ask who she is because he already knows. Shaking his head adamantly, the Australian rejects her idea before it even has a chance to lift off the ground. “I could do it myself,” he snaps, his usually tranquilent voice coming out a bit harsher than intended. And it’s not like him. He never, ever, speaks to Lily this way. So, obviously, it surprises her, a wounded expression mapping out immediately. 

And she could have been mad. She really could have been mad—but she wasn’t. “Is everything okay?” she asks carefully, as if walking on eggshells. It makes him feel like shit. “What's wrong, Oscar?”

“I…” His tongue goes numb. The vivid image of you looking at him, like you hold him in the palm of your hand, comes through. And he doesn’t completely hate it, not right away. But once the British girl hums softly through the phone, he’s ashamed. “I just wish you were here. I miss you.”

A beat, then: I love you.

You had not been the biggest fan of going floral shopping with Oscar, either. Quite frankly, you didn't think being with him for hours on end was a good idea. At least, here in the house, you could escape, but out in the open, your chances were ironically not that good. Where would you run off to if you depended on him for a ride back?

Yet, you found yourself saying yes, and you didn’t know why. You had no clue why you felt the need to help her out. You had no clue why you felt a certain way towards her all of sudden. 

You had no clue when Lily Zneimer—the girl you're supposed to hate—was someone you saw as a friend.

It was a tough pill to swallow, because on one hand, you were still attracted to her boyfriend. But on the other hand, you suddenly had self-control. You didn't want to ruin their relationship anymore. You didn't want to lose her amity. 

You were trying to be better.

“Ready?”

Looking up from your book, you nod. “Let me just go grab my sunglasses.”

As he watches you run upstairs, he feels something—different. From your end, that is. As if something has shifted. But he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, because before he knows it, you’re back. 

The car is quiet and his music can barely even be heard, but nothing is far more awkward than the tension between you two. It’s suffocating, so much so, you roll down the window. He makes a noise, making you tilt your head to look at him. He’s frowning. “It’s a hundred degree’s out, roll it back up. I can turn on the AC.”

You don’t utter a single word, just follow his instructions. He finds that weird. See, usually, you’d be doing something to get him hot and bothered, but these days you seem to be playing it safe. If anything, he should be thankful. He should be glad that you’ve left him alone for whatever reason. 

But now he wants in on your game.

“How’d you meet Lando?”

“Don’t. We don’t have to talk.”

He ignores you. “I met Lily in school. She was in the class next to mine and I used to think she was the most beautiful girl in the world.” His mind panics as soon as he realizes what he’s just said, but you don’t seem to have done the same. A cough. “How’d you meet Lando?”

Seeing as he probably wasn’t going to let this go unless you answer his question, you sigh, twisting your body and adjusting yourself to have a good view of him. Like this, you can count every mole on his skin if you really wanted to, but you don’t. “I never really met Lando, per se. I just always…knew him, I guess.” His brows furrowed and you chuckle. “We grew up as neighbors.”

“You did?” he asks, brows jumping up with shock. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, chewing on your bottom lip. “He was my sister’s boyfriend for two years.” This shouldn’t surprise him. Coming to a red light, he turns to look at you, fighting the urge to show any kind of reaction, he doesn’t want to scare you off. You look away, wincing. “I knew what I was ruining the moment he and I started talking behind her back, and I did it anyway.” 

“So…they were still dating?”

Nod. “She caught us locked up in the bathroom. There really wasn’t any explanation to that.” Green flashes as you point numbly and he steps on the gas once again. “And you know what? I didn’t even feel all that bad, and you want to know why?”

“Why?” 

“Because I got what I wanted.”

I love knowing that I can get away with it—get what I want, that is.

Your words from nights ago replay inside his overly crowded mind, making it pound like a sore thumb. His lips open, but he has nothing to say, and it appears you’re done talking, too. Or so he thought. 

“Oscar…” you whisper. “I can’t taint another relationship.”

He keeps his eyes on the road, jaw slacked. You don’t want him anymore. You want nothing to do with him. Shouldn’t he be pleased? Shouldn’t he be ecstatic that your diabolical plan has expired? One you never admitted to, but still. 

So then why does he feel let down?

“Lily is great,” you continue, eyes closed as you nod gingerly. “She’s the best, and she deserves the friend she thinks she has.”

“Except you two aren’t friends.”

You blink. “Wh-wha—yes we are. What are you talking about?”

He grits his teeth. “You two aren’t friends. You could never be.”

This gets a rise out of you. Straightening your back, your brows pinch together with offense. “And why not?”

“Because.”

“Because?” You scoff, not impressed by his bland response. “We can’t be friends simply ‘because’?”

Switching lanes, he huffs, spotting pink carnations in his rear view mirror. You had chosen those on Lily’s behalf. He didn’t really care at the moment, but now he wishes you had gone with white. What were you two arguing about again? 

Spotting the familiar blue house, he lets out a breath, pulling into the driveway, quickly putting the car in park, and turning off the ignition. This almost makes you back down because suddenly his sole focus is on you, not the road. 

“You’re on my mind.”

Oh. Biting down onto your bottom lip, you shake your head. “I’m n—”

“Yes,” he says, firmly, reaching for your hands and pulling them up to his mouth, kissing them over and over. “You are and you know it.”

“Oscar, no…” you let out, trying to pull away, but his grip tightens. A crazed look colors his irises as his chest rises fast, up and down, as if he’s close to hyperventilating. Bewildered, your lips turn to a downward spiral. “You don’t know what you’re saying—”

“Yes, I do!” he yelps, voice cracking as you stare with shock. “You did this to me, you got in my head on purpose!”

“I didn’t do anything!” you squeal, frightened by his tone. “Did I tell you that I wanted you?”

“You implied it,” he defends rapidly, pleading with eyes for you to show any signs of recollection. “What changed?”

“I already told you,” you snap, this time using all your power to yank your hands back. “I don’t want to be this way anymore. I can’t.”

Silence. 

Slow breaths explore the car as he stares blankly. “That’s not fair.”

“What isn’t fair?” you hiss, aiming a glare. 

Oscar shakes his head, flinging his door open and hopping out, leaving you dumbfounded as you watch him go. Unbuckling yourself, you make a beeline for him, barely even reaching him as you tug on his shirt, making him turn back with a dark look in his eyes. Your heart nearly flat lines from how scared you are of him from this point of view. 

“What isn’t fair, huh?” you ask, trying to sound brave, but there’s a slight tremble in your voice. 

Glowering down on you, the Australian’s lips form a slow smile, almost in a sinister way. Mocking, too. He chuckles to himself. “You like to have your own fun, don’t you?” Your shoulders drop, taking a clumsy step back, but he takes a dominating one forward. “Yeah…you do. You get to knead your fingers into someone’s brain until all they can think about is you, and once they do, you’re out.” Pause. “It’s no longer fun.”

“That’s not—” You let out a shaky breath, wincing at his accuracy.  “Where are you going with this?”

Oscar shrugs, broad shoulders going up before falling sourly. “I’m gonna do the same.”

You freeze, stomach twisting with trepidation. “Huh?”

He nods, clicking his tongue. “How come you only get to have your fun?” He leans down, coming eye level with you, and narrowing his gaze until you see his iris dilate. Something about that sends a shiver down your spine. “Why can’t I do the same, too?”

Taking a step back, he makes sure to send a sly smile, the kind that lets you see he has a hidden dimple. He sighs as he steps into the house, forcing you to watch him go with a smug reaction and leaving you with a poor one. Last minute, he turns around, inclining against the doorframe, making him appear larger than the world. 

Oscar squints teasingly. 

“I’m going to have you begging me to fuck you.”

-

There was a moment in the past week where you nearly fell for it—almost. 

It happened one morning, and all he had done was walk into the house, all big and sweaty. He had just come back from a run.

“Excuse me,” he says, reaching over to grab a glass from the cabinet, intending to pour himself a bit of water. A certain warmth radiates off him and you feel it cling onto you immediately, pushing you towards him. You physically have to stop yourself. 

Pursing your lips, you move, allowing him to easily grab what he needs. Without a single thank you, he hums, the cool water tasting heavenly. The way his Adam’s Apple juts up and down makes you want to scream, looking away as rub your eyes fiercely. He smiles, setting the glass down. “I need your opinion on something.”

“What is it?” you ask, still not looking. Maybe you should leave to go buy your dress for the party. Time is running out, and you have nothing. Though, at this point, you didn't want to be here anymore. 

“It's about Lily’s graduation gift. Should I get her a necklace with her birthstone, or—” 

An ankle bracelet with my number on it?

Immediately, you turn to face him, cheekbones beet red and a slight twitch in your eyes, those that are now dark and looming. Satisfaction plays a role in his features as he stares innocently. “I was leaning towards the ankle bracelet. I really do think you and Lando are onto something.”

“What’s your game?” you ask, bitterness evident in your tone. Your question takes him back to when he was the one asking it. To you. Neat brows furrow with anticipation.

The brunette shrugs. “I don't have one. I'm just here to have fun.” He smirks. “It's summer—isn't it?”

This is all a bad case of deja vu, one you don't find appealing. How dare he ask you something like this with a dirty smile on his face? The look is just the right amount of disgusting, and the right amount of intriguing. 

He was getting to you.

Clicking your tongue, you roll your eyes. “Whatever your plan is—stop it.” Pointing a finger, you shake your head firmly. “Because it's not going to work on me.”

“It’s not?” he asks, closing the gap and towering over you dangerously so. He sees the way your breathing becomes a tad bit irregular, letting him know that this was working, no matter how much you denied it. “Because you’re a better friend now? Because you got one taste of loyalty and now you've decided to be loyal to yourself?” A large hand reaches for your chin, forcing your head to tilt back and look up at him. And you hate how handsome he is in an infuriating moment like this. “People don't change overnight. I doubt you'd be the first.”

Old habits die hard, but over time, and he's right. You're still the same avaricious girl as yesterday. 

Pushing his thumb against the corner of your lips, you instinctively open your mouth, making room. A soft smile tugs at his own lips as his eyes admire your lipstick coating his finger. Slowly, he eases the digit in, feeling your wet tongue hug it. And then, suck.

“Fuck,” he groans beneath his shaggy breath, brown orbs not wanting to miss a single second of this. Humming, your vibrations send a chill down his spine, finding it harder to not bend you over amd just fuck you into oblivion. But no—he had to hear you say it. 

Pink tongue laps around his thumb, doe eyes blinking prettily, lashes fluttering like butterflies. Instant jealousy enters the room as his mind begins to race with the fact that Lando has probably had you like this millions of times. He pushes down on your tongue, making you whine and bite down. And he doesn't even flinch.

“Tell me you want me…” His brows knit with need. “The same way I want you. Please, just—say it.”

Without warning, you bite down hard, this time getting a reaction out of him as he grunts with pain, and you push him away harshly until his back pounds against the nearest wall, letting out a loud thud. 

“Let me tell you one thing, Oscar,” you start, strolling over to him like a fallen angel. Today you wear a white dress, clung to your body like a glove, allowing him to see every curve of yours, in return, making his palms sweat. You grin, reaching him. “You won't ever see me begging for anyone—especially you.” His stomach drops. “No matter how much I want this to happen, too.”

Are you willing to get down on your knees and supplicate?

The answer is an obvious one for him: yes. He’d spend hours at your feet if that meant having you, for even just a second. Normally, he isn't this submissive, nor this desperate, but it seems like only you bring this side out of him. He doesn't entirely hate it.

“Ye—”

Ring! Ring!

Sighing, you walk up to your phone that sits on the nearest counter, and pick it up. “Hi, baby,” you greet sweetly. “How’s Adam?”

Ring! Ring!

Digging into his back pocket, he curses, picking up. “Hello, darling,” he says warmly, making you flicker your gaze over at him with accusation. “How’s everything going?”

Turns out, Adam’s bone wasn't actually broken and Lily had aced her exams. She ended up telling Oscar the truth, to which he was surprised she had kept it hidden from him for so long, but was far more surprised when she told him that you knew. Long story short, by some twist of fate, they’ll be back in the next couple of days. They land on the same day, so they’ll save the Australian the hassle and just drive in together. 

“See you in a couple of days. Alright. Bye,” you say, rubbing your temples. 

Oscar looks up, chewing the inside of his cheek before letting go. “I’ll see you, then. Fly safe.”

A moment passes by. “Did she tell you—”

“That they’re flying in together? Yeah. They were both in London, after all. It makes sense.”

“Sure,” you mumble, brushing a strand of hair away. “They land Wednesday, then?”

“Correct,” he says, nodding along. It’s already Monday, so that was…soon. 

Too soon.

“I should probably start fixing up the arrangements,” you announce. “Lily asked me a couple of days ago, but I haven't gotten around to it. I just pray they haven't died yet.”

“They haven't,” he states, making you curl a brow. He smiles sheepishly. “Carnations last longer. Lily said so.”

“Of course,” you say, grinding your teeth. “Lily said so, so it must be true.”

Nothing more, nothing less. You just walk towards the flowers, and feel the irritation paint your silhouette, because as expected, Lily was right—like always. 

Thing is, Oscar has come to learn your behavior. The way you tell a lie, the way you tell the truth. He's learned your body language, and right now, he can tell one thing for sure.

You never stopped hating Lily.

He smiles.

And that makes him happy. Because he knows this isn't over yet.

-

By Tuesday, the entire setup is ready. The flowers sit beautifully at every table, and the lights hang nicely around the trees. The sound of the lake singing is your only reminder that you could use a break. And apparently, it was also Oscar’s.

“The event decorators just left. But you did an excellent job with the florals,” he adds last minute.

A hum. “I tried my best.”

The dock creaks. The frog's ribbit. The crickets harmonize. And you two are too close to one another. Your shoulders brush, making you flinch and for him to cough awkwardly. “Despite everything, I had fun having you around. A summer well spent, don't you think?”

With a deadpan expression, you turn to look at him, making him laugh, and the corners of your lips fight back a smile. You haven't heard him laugh in so long, you come to realize. In all sincerity, that is. “It was alright,” you respond, shrugging it off as if nothing. “But yeah. I had fun, too.”

Fun teasing each other. Fun trying to get each other to crack. But fun, nonetheless.

And he thinks: if not now, when? You don't know at what moment he catches you off guard, but he does, because in a single second, he's kissing with urgency. Like he's never kissed anyone before and he was making sure to get it right. And it was more than right. Heat pools in between your legs as you try your best to keep up with him, but the taste of cheap beer makes you get high on life. Since when is he much of a drinker?

Since you.

The good thing is that the entrance back to the house isn't that far, so your guys’ tumble is pretty successful. Though, you don't make it to either’ bedroom, but rather the couch, where a bunch of disposables lay. Lily had them shipped a couple days ago. Says she wants as many pictures as possible, savor the memories for a lifetime.

Without any precaution, he wipes his arms across the cushion, sending the cameras to crash against the floor and throwing you onto the couch, smiling once you squeal with excitement. All except one camera—but neither of you notice that yet.

Your soft hair lays around you like a halo, making him wonder if he’s gone straight to heaven. You gesture him to come in closer, and he’s quick to obey, diving for your neck. You giggle, a lazy hand finding its way into his locks. “No marks,” you pant, squirming as he licks a line down your throat before going up towards your lips. 

“No marks,” he confirms. “On your neck.”

You pause momentarily, disattaching your mouth from his. “No marks anywhere.” He grins, nodding just because. You frown. “I’m serious, Oscar.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles. “Sure.”

Then, he’s on his knees, kissing your ankle like that one time on the stairs, except now, he’s taking it nice and slow. Steady. Your mind grows dizzy as he grazes his fingers gently down your skin. It sends goosebumps, seeing him like this. So…submissive.

“I never wanted you,” he whispers as he presses his pink lips onto your left ankle this time. He hums. “You were just another girl to me. My teammate’s girlfriend—that’s it.” Another kiss. “You never crossed my mind, not even once.”

And now…

Making his way up, he kisses in between your thighs, nuzzling into your warmth. You let out a weak moan, chest rising raggedly. Playing with his earlobe, you massage it gently as you try your best not to ruin this moment. Though it seems like nothing could. Not when he’s devoted to it already. And so were you.

Feeling a slight burn, you furrow your brows as you spot him sucking gently against your inner thighs. You squirm, pushing his head away as he keeps his position. “I said no marks.”

And you actually feel his smile start to spread against your skin.

“He won’t see these, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Another suck, this time harder. “Well…unless you want him to. Then that’s your decision.” Looking past his lashes, he bites down on the flesh, making you flinch. “So what? Are you gonna let him see how someone else has fucked you while he was gone?”

Pulling your panties to the side, he dips his tongue into your pussy, making your hips fly off the couch, and for him to push them back down, holding you in place. Sloppily, he kisses it—practically making out—and groans like a madman with the way you taste. Your sweet nectar makes his cock grow hard instantaneously, and he can’t help but grind against the edge of the cushion where your legs hang. 

“Holy.” Whine. “Fucking.” Moan. “Shit.” Groan.

Twisting with an obscene amount of pleasure, you tangle a shaky hand through his hair, ignoring how soft it feels. The need to run away and stay is a confusing pattern, but as soon as he adds a finger, curling it just the right amount, you let out a high pitched moan. 

Just like that, Oscar, just like t-that. 

Adding another digit, he picks up the pace of his tongue, drawing figure eights as the knot in your stomach burns brutally. You feel a white cloud surface over your eyes as they close, screwed shut as if that might help you last longer. But he knows what your body needs, and that itself was an alarming thing to realize. 

With one last mewl, you finish all over his tongue as he licks you clean, not wasting a single drop. And the way you taste—makes him not want to go back to not knowing. With a smile filled with bliss, and that familiar afterglow, you giggle, nose scrunching like a bunny as your cheeks remain as red as a rose. The sight alone makes him struggle to comprehend that this is most likely a one time thing, and not something he’ll be able to relieve whenever he wants. 

At the end of the day—you're not his.

But he can still reminisce about this moment from time to time.

Mid-giggle, a flash goes through as you come to a stop. Oscar grins, shaking the green disposable, showing it off. “Beautiful. You’re absolutely beautiful.”

Your breath hitches, his words tugging at your heart strings. You haven't experienced something like that in so long. Shaking your head, you push your dress down, climbing off the couch and pushing him to sit. “I like to play fair.” Sliding down to your wobbly knees, you shoot a gentle smirk, something that makes his cock grow painfully harder. “Let me take care of you, Oscar.”

Undoing his belt, you hurriedly unzip his jeans, fighting the urge to take him completely. You don’t, though. No, you first kiss the tip, making him groan, feeling as if pushing you head down is a good idea. Then, you suck at a comfortable speed, like a baby sucking their thumb, and watch past your lashes how his chest begins to rise slowly. 

“You’re huge,” you hum, pecking it. “How am I gonna fit you into my small mouth?” 

Moaning, the brunette drags a hand over his tired expression, faking a smile. “You’re saying you can’t?”

You suck harder, still treating it like a lollipop. Licking his tip like a kitten licks their bowl clean. It’s starting to cut his patience thin. “I can figure it out…”

I’ve done it with Lando. How much harder can this be?

That’s it. Pushing the back of your head, he forces you to deepthroat him, keeping you in place as you drool on either side of his lap, soft gurgles coming through. You try to push off him, but it seems like that makes him shove you down twice as hard.

“Something to say, baby?” he pants under his breath, raising a brow. “What was that?”

Slapping his thigh, tapping out, you find yourself being pulled off of him, dragged onto his lap as in one swift movement, he pushes your panties to the side once again and thrusts his thick cock deep inside of you. So much happens so fast that you barely have a chance to adjust to his girth. 

“Does Lando make you feel half as much as I make you feel?”

He’s not talking about sex. It hasn’t been about sex for a while now. 

Moaning, you bounce up and down, your hair hanging like a curtain as you give your best to keep up with him and his rhythm. But he practically controls you, snapping his hips up with anger. At least, that’s what it feels like. 

“Does he make you feel good?”

“Yes,” you sigh against his ear as you clutch an arm around his shoulder, keeping as steady as possible. “He does.”

But you make me feel better. 

The sound of your praise does something to him, something inexplicable. And while he can’t quite put a name to it, he does know that you’re telling the truth. You had to be. 

Again, pulling you off his swollen cock, he flips you around, having you use him as a chair as he squeezes his girth into your tight pussy, strong arms looping under your legs and spreading them open as he abuses your cunt, feeling your head fall back as you gasp. 

“F-fuck,” you shriek, head bopping with each thrust, and your throat growing dry. “Fuck me—fuck me.”

“I’m trying,” he chuckles, continuing as you try your best to understand how he was able to learn that he knew how to do all this. “Look at you. Just…look at you.”

There comes a time of life where someone is meant for you, and you’ll find your way to each other, no matter what. He’d like to think that it’s true. Sure. It is. But have you ever thought that maybe it’s not? 

Maybe the person you think you’re supposed to be with is busy thinking the same thing as you? Living a full life with someone else who isn’t their soulmate? Romantically, that is. 

Lando and Lily. They’re both place holders. They’re nice, yeah, and they’re amazing, too—but that’s about it.

You hold his entire destiny. 

He just wants to live by it. 

But the way he has you—it’s temporary. And nothing good ever lasts forever. But God, he really fucking wishes it did. 

Close, he hears you whisper, followed by a squeal as he holds your legs up higher, still fucking you in the same position. So, so close. 

“Not. Yet.”

Hauling you off, you’re quick to whine, feeling empty as he spreads you onto the couch, admiring your glistening lips. He presses a thumb down against your bud, feeling the pulse that enlightens him to smile. You copy him, toying with your dress. 

“Should I—”

“Keep it,” he says firmly. A beat. “Please. Keep it.”

When you nod, your hair only gets tangled against the cushion, but that’s the least of your worries. You frown. “You haven’t cum yet…”

“I will, don’t worry.” Silence. Pushing this thumb inside, you squirm, wincing slightly as your eyes remain on him, waiting for his next move. “Open.”

Opening your legs wider, he chuckles, shaking his head. Your mouth. You gulp, then open wide as he hums, bringing his wet finger into your mouth, making you taste yourselves. And normally, you’d be grossed out. God, you don’t let Lando even do this, but something about Oscar makes you feel okay. That, and like a pathetic freak. 

“Good, no?” It’s an awkward thing to ask, you can’t help but blush against his digit, lashes fluttering. The Australian tsks, pressing his large finger against your tongue as your eyes grow wide. “Right?”

In a heartbeat, you nod because it just felt like the right thing to do. Satisfied, he smiles, taking another photo of this beautiful sight. Your eyes are round and full of life, and slightly teary, and that’s what he likes to see. 

Retracting his thumb, he smirks. He makes room for both of you on this small couch, towering over you and he starts raising both your legs over your shoulders. Your stomach twists. 

“I wanna see it when I fuck you.”

With your dresses scrunched up, and his cock cutting you in half, you both moan in sync as the wet sounds echo through the hall of the empty house. And this wouldn’t have happened—probably ever—if you hadn’t accepted their invitation to spend the summer in North fucking Carolina. 

The number four dangles, and not only is the sounder a reminder that it’s there, but he can spot it from his peripheral vision every time he pounds into you a little harder. And he should be jealous—God knows that’s true—but surprisingly, he’s not. 

Because he’s heard the way Lando fucks you. And nothing—nothing—compares to now. 

It feels as if he’s practiced moves like this for a lifetime. As if he were to promise you that this could all work out, then you’d believe him.

You really would.

A sloppy thrust. “I never wanted you to begin with,” he grunts, screwing his eyes shut as your body reacts to his harsh confession. “I saw you with Lando, and I felt absolutely nothing. I had Lily to focus on. But God—what have you done to me?”

His tip seems to find your g-spot as you cry out, withering around. “I was taught to respect others. To respect what’s theirs. Whether that be a journal, or a remote control car, it didn’t matter. But you do,” he confesses, watching as you continue to whimper, probably not catching any of this anymore. “You did this to me…”

You filled me with greed.

Grabbing your ankles, he lurches them over his left shoulder as he continues to pound into your tight cunt, hearing you gasp before erupting into a string of moans. 

“Now, everything he has, I want.” You whine. “I’m going after his Championship.” You whine louder, eyes opening as you watch a bead of sweat roll down his nose. “I’m going after his team.” 

Oscar chuckles darkly. “And I’d love to say that I’m going after you, but hey…looks like I already have you.”

And just like that, the pit in your stomach bursts as you two clash against one another, your orgasms riding out together as your legs finally fall, but not before he makes sure to press a gentle kiss. 

A flash. 

“Really?” you ask, glaring. 

“Stick your tongue out.”

Without any questions, where you lay, you open your mouth, watching as he stands up to tower over you, jerking his cock one last time as his drops of cum fall against your tongue, white and thick. 

Your eyes flicker with excitement as he makes sure to take a picture. If he can’t have you later, or probably ever again, then he’ll make sure that he gets an angle of you that only he could ever dream of years down the line. 

Pulling his pants back up, he makes sure to clean you up before making you sit, him only a few inches away, but honestly, it feels like miles. All of a sudden, he’s distant, which shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it does. 

Biting down onto your wobbly lip, you comb your fingers through your hair—you’re doing your own after care. 

“I know things with us won't ever be the same, but…” You wince. “Please don’t treat Lando any differently. He sees you as a brother.”

He flinches because he knows it's true. Of course it is, everybody knows it. Oscar nods in agreement. “Only if you promise to stop hating Lily.”

You snort. “Sure. Sounds fair.”

The sound of tires is what ultimately gets your two to spring up, rushing towards the window as you look onto the driveway. Laughing, you first see Lily, then Lando, then you frantically twist your heels to face the Australian who remains with a blank expression, clearly not expecting them. 

“They were supposed to be here tomorrow, you said!” you hiss, rubbing your temples. “What the fuck?”

“They must’ve upgraded their tickets to get here sooner,” he shoots back, running a hand through his sweaty hair. He grimaces. “Hurry! Help me pick up the disposables from the floor!”

“Right!” you screech, running toward the living room as you fall onto your knees, picking up the cameras and tossing them back onto the couch. Oscar does the same, but with his eyes stuck in the door, waiting for a knock. 

Knock! Knock!

Freezing, you two look at each other, as if debating whether to make a run for it together or not. Though, as soon as you hear Lando call out for you, you’re sure you have no chance. Taking one last glance at the pile of cameras, you huff, skipping towards the door, fixing your knot up hair as best as possible. 

“Hey!” you greet, nearly over exaggerating, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he beams, grinning from ear to ear. Lando pecks your lips, lingering for a moment, making your heart drop. Because he can’t know—can he? Distancing himself, he wears a subtle frown, sort of there, sort of not, so you’re quick to smile. “I’m so happy you’re back.” You turn to face Lily, who’s stayed in the background, letting you have your moment. “That you’re both back.”

“It's nice seeing you, too,” she says before her eyes wander to a place behind you. Suddenly, her eyes twinkle as she grins at Oscar who comes closer with lips drawn into a firm line. “Look who just woke up from a nap.” Kissing his cheek swiftly, she tippy toes, fixing his messy hair into a neat comb over. “You look as if you got into some kind of bar fight.”

“Yeah,” Lando hums, looking over at you with dark eyes. “It sort of does…”

“We were fixing the outside tables—”

“We were fixing the floral arrangements—”

Lily and Lando quirk a glance at each other, then back towards you and Oscar whose faces are flushed. Oscar coughs, scratching the back of his neck. “Why don’t you guys come and check it out?”

“Yes, please!” Lily squeals, already making her way out the door, the Australian not that far behind. 

Sighing, you go on to follow as well, but there’s this hold on your wrist that just won’t let go. You spin, staring at Lando who clenches his jaw.

“Did you fuck him?”

You flinch. “No—I didn’t.”

Blue eyes fill with warning as he nods, silently thinking to himself before rubbing his chin harshly. “Don’t lie to me. I know what you’re capable of.”

This physically makes you feel sick, ashamed that he knows you for being a lying cheater. “You’re one to talk,” you shoot back, wishing to take it back as soon as it comes out. He raises a brow, clearly surprised. You gulp. “You’re capable of doing the same thing as me, aren’t you? Isn’t that why we’re together?”

“We’re together because I love you.”

“Yeah, well, I love you, too. I’ve literally given up the relationship I had with my sister—for you.” Taking his hands into yours, you knit your brows together softly, and just like that, he melts. “I love you, Lando. There's no need for anyone else.”

Looking past the clear window, Oscar stares at you and the Brit, who share a hug, taking occasional loving pecks as if nothing else matters. 

As if his feelings aren't worth anything. 

“I love it,” Lily says, ripping his gaze from getting hurt any further. Because that’s what this has all led to —him getting hurt. She grins happily, making her way closer. “I really appreciate you two working on this together, it all looks so wonderful.”

Guilt makes his tongue trip as he tries to say something, but when all fails, he settles with a warm smile, pulling her against his chest, kissing the top of her head. “I’d do anything for you, Lily Zneimer.”

With your head resting on Lando’s shoulders, you look out to where the couple stand, in the same embrace. This makes your eyes sting, which is silly because—why do you feel so invalidated? 

Despite being so far apart, you and Oscar are still able to connect, looking at each other with a certain yearning. This is not what this was supposed to be. The Australian would have never dreamt of any other girl that wasn’t Lily, so what happened? 

“I love you,” Lando mumbles, securing his hold on you.

“I love you,” Lily mumbles, face pressed against his heart, feeling it thump fiercely. 

You spare Oscar a smile, and Oscar spares you the same. And neither of you two can bring yourselves to lie.

So, instead, neither of you say it back.

-

It all comes crashing down on you one Sunday morning. 

By now, Lily has graduated, summer is over, and you’re back in Monaco. And for some reason, Lando offered to help get Lily’s picture’s developed. He knew a guy who’d get him a nice discount, apparently. Film is expensive as it is, so of course the British girl accepted. 

You’re sitting outside on the balcony. It’s windy today, and you should probably go back inside, but the ocean looks particularly blue today, so you decide to stay. 

Curling yourself tighter with your blanket, you sigh, staring numbly, mind racing. Because this is a daily occurrence now. 

All. You. Think. About. Is. Him.

Him and his obnoxious smile. Him and his warm brown eyes. Him and his chuckle that sounds dry to everyone else, but lively to you. 

Just…him.

And without a doubt, Lando has figured out that something was wrong with you, but he never asked questions.

Until now.

“Hey,” he says, plopping down next to you, pressing his lips against your temple quickly before smiling. “Have you been here all day?”

You blush, shivering by the sudden breeze. “If I say no, would you believe me?”

“Yes,” he admits, clicking his tongue. “Because apparently I believe almost everything you have to say.”

Including your lies. 

You hear him, but his voice is muffled by now with all that you’re feeling. He handed you an envelope, and you first opened it with curiosity, then with dread and shame when you realized what was inside.

The film.

You’re laughing, eyes shut with delight. 

Your lips are wrapped around his thumb.

Around his cock, too.

Drops of cum lay flat on your tongue.

One where his head is beneath your dress.

One of his hands wrapped around your ankles, a certain number four glimmering.

All of this, and more.

Licking your lips repeatedly, you sit up, staring at him with an open mouth. “Lando—”

“I’m not mad.”

You blink.

He shrugs, taking the pictures, making you want to snatch them back and figure out what to do with them yourself. How could you and Oscar forget to set this one aside?

He can tell that you’re mortified, so he sends a reassuring smile, but it does no good. “I’m not, alright? I’m just…disappointed.” His reaction is confusing, he can tell what you’re thinking. Why is he so okay with this? “I’m not the biggest fan of you lying to me, but whatever, it’s fine.”

“And sure, I should be furious that you two went behind my back, and maybe I am—but I’m willing to let it go because I love you.” The blue eyed boy pecks your lips, you still frozen with shock. He chuckles. “This is what I get, right? This is my karma? For sleeping with you while I was still dating your sister?”

When you still don’t say anything, he nods to himself, as if this is all making sense to him, and only him. “Must be.” A beat. “I forgive you.”

“What about him?” you squeak, scared of his response.

Lando clenches his jaw before breaking into a helpless smile. “He doesn’t have to know, I know. This will just remain between you and I—just like always. He doesn’t have to know. Lily doesn’t have to know.”

You hold yourself from crying because in a way, he’s right. Out of everyone, Lily Zneimer doesn’t deserve any of this. She has been nothing but good to you, and you’re embarrassed to notice now that you ruined a perfectly good friendship. And while she may have no clue, you do, and that’s enough for you to probably wince every time you look at her from now on.

“Just don’t do it again. M’kay?”

Rubbing his thumb against your lips, it’s almost like he’s waiting for something, but when you don’t seem to do whatever he was thinking, his eyes darken, and he gets up with a bitter smile. 

He takes the pictures with him and you don’t know what for.

But you don’t dare ask a single question.

It’s just you. Your thoughts.

And Oscar.

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting @chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire @alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious @notkaryna @wanderingreigns @aykxz98 @ruti26-11 @esposamultifandom @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @r0nnsblog @aeriblu @inchidentofftrack @natashaklein @rutaceae-gelato @bowielovesyou @lilypat @folklaur21 @dustie-faerie @ajordan2020 @oscobabe @briefkittenearthquake @anayaverse

In front of the United States whitehouse there is a poster board with this written on it: "A message from Gaza: We do not just want your eyes on Rafah. We want your foot on "Israel's" neck. Organize and escalate."

Source image re-posted on X post by: @/mxyaslytherin with the caption "a reminder" [May 30th, 2024.]

identity is the root.

you are not manifesting random events. you are not manifesting based on what you want. you are manifesting based on who you believe you are. and that belief, your identity, is what determines what appears in your life, what repeats, what leaves, what stays, and how things unfold.

this is why neville said over and over: assume the feeling of the wish fulfilled. he wasn’t telling you to act like you’re playing pretend. he was telling you that your reality forms around your state of being. and your state of being is just your identity in action.

your identity is the foundation of your self-concept. it’s not just one belief, it’s the entire self-image you carry. it’s what you expect without thinking. it’s how you explain things to yourself. it’s the inner story you’ve been telling for so long, you forgot you were telling it.

identity is subtle. it hides in how you react to compliments. it hides in how you respond to silence. it hides in what you assume people mean when they don’t reply, or when they do. it shows up in what you think is normal, likely, or typical for you.

if you identify as someone who is always left out, you will unconsciously expect to be left out. you will anticipate abandonment, misread neutral situations as rejection, and replay painful assumptions until they harden into “facts.” if you identify as someone who is loved, special, and always chosen, the opposite becomes true. your mind will filter life through that lens. you’ll revise in your favor. you’ll remember support instead of abandonment. you’ll manifest people who reflect that version of you back to you.

you’re manifesting what your identity believes is true. and identity is not stable by default, it’s habitual. you’ve simply practiced it over time. that means you can choose a new one just as easily. you don’t have to “heal” before you change. (even though this is beneficial) and you definitely don’t have to “earn” a new self-concept. you just have to stop identifying with the version of you who doesn’t have what they want.

neville said, “change your conception of yourself and you will automatically change the world in which you live.” he also said, “to be transformed, the whole basis of your thoughts must change.” and that happens not by controlling every thought, but by choosing a new identity, a new center of being, from which your thoughts, assumptions, and reactions now arise.

a new identity changes what feels natural. and the law always reflects what is natural to you. once it feels normal to be adored, you’ll start getting adored. once it feels natural to have money, you’ll start finding yourself in circumstances where money is flowing. you’ll stop thinking it’s a sign when someone treats you well, you’ll start seeing it as the bare minimum. because it matches the self you’ve chosen to be.

this is why identity is everything. identity determines your assumptions. assumptions determine your perceptions. perceptions determine your reactions. reactions reinforce your reality. and your reality is always confirming the self you are being.

you don’t need to visualize harder. you don’t need to micromanage the 3D. you need to ask: who am i being? who do i assume i am right now? and if the answer doesn’t match the version of you who has it all, shift. right now. no delay. 

you are not here to chase the desire. you are here to realize you already are the version of you who has it. all that’s left to do is assume them. the 3D always reflects who you believe you are.

I want you to imagine yourself, fifty years from now, sitting with your grandchildren. Imagine them asking you “what did you do during the Gazan Genocide?” What will you say? Will you say “I did nothing?” Will you say “I did what I could?” By donating to this fundraiser, you will be able to say “I saved a man from cancer.” I’m sure many of you have seen the fundraiser for @mohiy-gaza2 . What you might not know is that Mohiy himself is very sick. He told me himself that he recently had an MRI to diagnose a tumor in his pancreas, and now needs surgery to remove his spleen. Dealing with these illnesses is difficult enough for those of us lucky enough to live in peaceful countries; in a warzone Mohiy’s task is nothing short of horrific. I know pancreatic cancer is a difficult disease, but with our help, I believe Mohiy can beat it.

I know there are other fundraisers on your dash. I’m sure your bank accounts are already low from the donations you’ve already made. All I can do is beg you, from the bottom of my heart: help Mohiy and his family. I’ve already donated; please find it in your heart to donate whatever you can. To quote Mohiy himself:

Thank you for reading this. I know Mohiy and his family are grateful for anything you can give.

stupid appendix | oscar piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary; oscar piastri biggest fan (his girlfriend) goes crazy when he wins his first grand prix, and she isn’t there to see it.

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, and 761,305 others!

yourusername: it’s race week again, except i’m praying oscar doesn’t win because i’m getting my appendix taken out and if he wins, and im not there, i will go fucking ballistic. 

view comments below!

oscarpiastri: wow, thanks for all the support! 🥰

yourusername: i love you with my whole heart octopus, but if you win and im not there? i will never forgive you.

oscarpiastri: and what am i supposed to do if i start leading?

yourusername: stop, and let everyone pass you!

oscarpiastri: so i won’t be doing that! lovely conversation 👊

yourusername: YOU NEVER LOVED ME

user1: why’d she just call oscar octopus?

yourusername; that’s his name?

user1: no..his name is oscar?

yourusername; he was born octopus jack piastri, but got bullied a lot, so he changed his name to oscar when he was 16 😓

user1: really?

yourusername: yeah, and i would know!

user1: ig…LOL who names their kid octopus?

yourusername: RIGHT??

oscarpiastri: STOP TELLING PEOPLE I CHANGED MY NAME. MY NAME WAS NOT OCTOPUS.

user1: oh…well now i’m embarrassed

user2: don’t be, she’s done this to at least 30 fans now

maxverstappen1: don’t worry, i’ll make sure he doesn’t win 😏

yourusername: thank you max! you’re my only REAL friend <3

landonorris: excuse me?

yourusername; tell me lando, would you throw oscar into the grandstands to prevent him from winning this race?

landonorris: no?

yourusername: FAKE

landonorris: okay, you know what, it’s not MY fault that you decided to take your appendix out THAT DAY.

yourusername: I DIDNT DECIDE IT. IT WAS FORCED UPON ME.

landonorris: RESCHEDULE THE SURGERY FOR THE NEXT DAY! 

yourusername: wait.

oscarpiastri: NO. you will be having that surgery on sunday. and you will not being rescheduling.

yourusername: I HATE YOU OCTOPUS

oscarpiastri: you can hate me all you want, you’re still getting that surgery.

user3: on one hand i want oscar to win, on the other i dont think yn will recover if she isn’t there to witness it

charles_leclerc: i would try to stop him from winning but i don’t think i have a fast enough car for that

yourusername: it’s okay charles! i’m sure ferrari will bounce back in no time :)

charles_lelcerc: really?

yourusername; no…

charles_leclerc: nice talk! :(

user4: when you want to comfort your friend but you can’t lie for shit

user5: normally i pray that oscar will win a race, but today, ill do the opposite, just for you yn 💕

yourusername: thank you!!

user6: she is dead serious. she honestly doesn’t want oscar to win.

yourusername: i’ve never been so serious in my LIFE.

user7: no i get it, imagine going to every single on of your bfs races and the ONE time you don’t go he wins???

user8: i’d start to believe i’m back luck

carlossainz55: imagine having to get your appendix out 🤣🫵

yourusername: right? that’s so embarrassing 🤣

user9: you two are the LAST people too be talking

user10: oscar piastri does NOT win the hungary gp 🕯️ oscar piastri does NOT win the hungary gp 🕯️oscar piastri does NOT win the hungary gp 🕯️oscar piastri does NOT win the hungary 🕯️

user11: AMEN

user12: LOUDER

user13: preach!

oscarpiastri: @/yourusername, you see what you’ve done?

yourusername: beautiful work guys! oscar piastri does NOT win the hungary gp 🕯️

oscarpiastri: 😐

— race day!

— post race interview!

. . .

liked by mclaren, lewishamilton, landonorris, and 719,014 others!

oscarpiastri: first grand prix win. incredible 🧡

view comments below!

carlossainz55: congrats oscar 👍

estebanocon: great job mate, first of many 👏

user14: oh i’m crying

user15: omg i am too, the tears just won’t stop

user16: first it was him winning, then it was him apologizing for winning, and now it’s yn not being there for him 💔

landonorris: congrats bro!

user17: OH OSCAR PIASTRI, OH OSCAR PIASTRI, OH OSCAR PIASTRI

user18: waiting for yn to wake up and raise hell

user19: she’s going to wake up from anesthesia and this is going to be the first thing she sees 

yourusername: what was the one thing i asked you not to do?

oscarpiastri: baby you just woke up, stop making your mom write for you, and rest

yourusername: ONE THING OSCAR. I ASKED FOR ONE THING.

oscarpiastri: stop making your mom write for you, she probably feels very uncomfortable right now

yourusername: i do - the mom

yorusername: STOP CHANGING THE SUBJECT OSCAR JACK PIASTRI. YOU ARE SOOO NOT INVITES TO MY OSCAR FIRST WIN PARTY

user20: i know that anesthesia is hitting real hard 

user21: i want to go to oscar’s first win party

yourusername: @/maxverstappen1 AND YOU. I TOLD YOU NOT TO LET HIM WIN

maxverstappen1: i’m sorry yn. i have failed you.

yourusername: …its okay max, you’ll get him next time

maxverstappen1: thank you yn ❤️

oscarpiastri: WHOS SIDE ARE YOU ON??

yourusername: NOT YOURS.

yourusername: stupid appendix.

carlossainz55: me and my homies all hate our appendix’s

user22: you don’t have one?

carlossainz55: 😐

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, 691,047 others!

yourusername: absolutely gutted to have not been there for his first win, nonetheless OCTOPUS JACK PIASTRI IS A FUCKING RACE WINNER

view comments below!

oscarpiastri: you will see me win in person love, i know it 🧡

yourusername: i love you octopus

oscarpiastri: i love you more

user22: he’s not fighting the octopus?? softie

user23: maybe she’s dying and wants her too be happy in her last moments… OMG YN ARE YOU DYING???

yourusername: NO??? i’m perfectly fine, the surgery went perfect!

user23: oh, then yeah he’s a softie

user24: worst maiden win ever

user25: SPEAK ON IT

user26: it would’ve been so much better if yn was there :(

charles_leclerc: glad your surgery went well yn!!

yourusername: thank you charles 👊 congrats on p4, your getting up there!!

charles_leclerc; thankfully! i could not handle any other bad week in the car 😞

user27: none of us could charles. none of us could.

maxverstappen1: can i congratulate oscar now?

yourusername: i guess 😒

maxverstappen1: YAY OSCAR 🥳🥳

user28: why is he acting like he wasn’t one of the first to congratulate him in person?

maxverstappen1: SHHHH YN DOESNT KNOW THAT

user29: “her health comes first.” oscar jack piastri you SOFTIE

user28: i desperately need a video of yn waking up from surgery and finding out oscar won.

oscarpiastri: i have one, there was lots of cussing, snot, and tears

yourusername; SHUT UP OCTOPUS YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOURE TALKING ABOUT

user29: SHE HAS BEEN THERE FOR ALL HIS BIG WINS, AND THE ONE TIME—THE ONE TIME HE WINS IN FORUMLA FUCKING ONE. SHE ISNT THERE. GOD I CANT TAKE TJIS

yourusername: see, you get it 😞

. . .

notes; my post on oscar’s win!!! super super super proud of him <33

Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 6

Christmas Day, and the final day (supposedly)

Word count: 4.8k (damn that's more than I originally intended to write for this part)

Warnings: unrealistic depictions of winter in Britain (it snows a lot), swearing, Lockwood gets a hug from reader's mum and can't cope, lockwood's lack of sleep is brought up, reader has Feelings and can't cope, Stephanie and Linda are bitches again and get an awful gift for reader, body image issues, lockwood shouts at Steph, mentions of Lockwood's family (and them being dead), Stephanie (she's a warning all on her own tbh), cliffhanger of an ending

the picture doesn't really match the vibes but it's one of the few where he's not wearing a suit 🤡 (but also look how babygirl he looks)

(image credit to lavenderghostco on pinterest)

series master list

Lockwood hadn't slept.

Instead he had spent the night trying to get Y/n to hear him through the locked bathroom door, but then when he'd heard quiet music playing and realised that she'd taken her walkman with her and was sleeping in there he had given up, shifting to lean his back against the door and pull his knees up to his chest.

Then he had used the rest of the night to go over what had been said between the two of them, and how horribly wrong it had all gone.

Why couldn't she have waited another two seconds for him to finish talking?

And why couldn't he figure out how to properly apologise to her?

When the sun had finally risen and slightly blinded Lockwood as it streamed in through the curtains that hadn't been properly closed the night before, he stood up, shaking out his stiff limbs and stretching. He got changed into some fresh, more comfortable clothes, having stayed in his suit from the day before all night, and headed downstairs to make a cup of tea.

"Oh, hello Anthony!" Emma said when he walked in to the kitchen. "Are you... alright?" She was frowning, likely because the dark bags under his eyes were far more prominent from the severe lack of sleep.

"Yes, I'm alright thank you. Just didn't sleep too well last night." He smiled at her.

"Oh dear," Emma replied, putting the kettle on. "Is Y/n alright?"

"She's fine. She did sleep in the bathroom though because she felt a bit sick, but she was out like a light right away." An easy lie to tell about the situation they had found themselves in, and Emma was too distracted making tea to detect any falsehoods.

"As long as the two of you are okay now then that's all that matters. Here's a mug for you, love."

"Thank you." It was strange how easily he got used to being part of this family. He was moving around the kitchen with Emma as though they had been doing it their whole lives, and he suddenly felt a pang of pain as he remembered doing the same things with his own family. Lockwood stopped, staring down into his tea that was now swirling around in the mug and blinking away the tears that threatened to fall.

"Anthony? What is it, dear?"

"It's nothing," he said, wiping at his face quickly and offering up a smile. Emma saw through it, though, and placed a hand on his arm. A similar scene flashed through his mind from last night, and his chest ached even more at the memory of Y/n instinctively comforting him and how he had likely ruined any chance of that happening again.

"Aw, love. I know we don't really... know each other that well, but if you ever want to talk to me about anything you know that you can, right?"

"Yeah, thank you, Emma," he replied. For some reason he felt the need to step forward and wrap his arms around her, but after a few seconds of Emma standing still he awkwardly pulled back, raising a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "S-sorry. I don't know-" he was cut off by her hugging him just as tightly as she had Y/n when they first got to the house, and although he couldn't breathe too well he felt... at home.

"Never apologise, love," she mumbled into his hair, squeezing tightly. "Like I said, if you ever need me, you let me know." she stepped back then to hold him by the arms and look him in the eyes. Lockwood nodded, suddenly feeling five years old again, and dried his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. "Alright?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. Now, you take this up to Y/n and make sure she's somewhat dressed and downstairs, because I think everyone else is starting to get up now and we'll do presents in a bit."

Lockwood took the mug and picked up his own tea, heading out the room after a quick thanks to Emma. A thought struck him as he carefully carried the mugs upstairs, and he really hoped that Y/n had presents because otherwise they would be in deep shit.

~~~

"Y/n?" Lockwood's voice tentatively called out. She huffed from where she laid in the bathtub wrapped up in blankets. What did he want? "Y/n? I've... I've got tea for you out here. I'm just gonna leave it on the bedside table for you. Uh, your mum also said that we're gonna do presents and stuff in a bit so... come down when you're ready I guess." He paused for a moment, then said "Do you... do you have presents? Because I didn't actually get anything and now I'm starting to feel bad because your parents are actually really nice and so are your siblings and-"

"Lockwood! Shut up! I got presents, alright?!" She shouted, getting out of the bath. She bundled up the duvet and pillow and opened the door to a slightly dishevelled Lockwood, pushing past him to chuck the blankets on the bed and grab some clean clothes from the suitcase. He had clearly been running his hand through his hair from the way it was sticking up at funny angles, and the bags under his eyes were far more prominent. She frowned, wondering if he'd had any sleep at all last night.

"Alright, I uh... I'll just..." he walked into the bathroom, everything about his movements more unsure and nervous than Y/n had ever seen him.

She changed into the clothes she had picked up, and only realised once the jumper was pulled over her head that it wasn't her jumper she had on.

It was Lockwood's.

She didn't have time to change before he unlocked the bathroom door and came back into the bedroom, stopping short in his tracks when he looked up and saw her stood in the middle of the room in his jumper. "I- This wasn't deliberate."

"I know," he said quietly, and she almost scoffed when he looked at her with sadness in his eyes. What right did he have to look that way when he had said those words last night?

"You're right. I won't ever like you in the same way as the others."

They had played over and over as she tried to get to sleep, wondering how he had managed to sink to an even lower depth in causing her pain than he had before.

"Here," she said when the silence grew uncomfortable, bending down to grab the group of wrapped gifts at the bottom of the case and handing a few to Lockwood. "We should head down I suppose."

"Don't forget your tea. I'll uh- I'll see you down there," he offered up a small smile as he left.

As soon as the door shut behind him she heaved a sigh, eyeing the tea on the bedside table sat right where Lockwood had said it would be. There was no point in letting it get cold, so she waited until the mug had been drained before leaving and going downstairs.

~~~

The tea had been a good way to start preparing herself for Christmas Day with her family, but on seeing Lockwood again (despite it only having been about five minutes) she could feel herself drowning at the prospect of having to fake this relationship for another few hours. At least it was only a few hours, since they were catching the only train running on Christmas Day that afternoon.

"And the last one for you, Y/n! Sorry, Anthony, you've only got a couple because we had no idea what you wanted and only found out you were coming a few days ago!"

"Oh, you didn't have to get me anything at all, Emma, really," he beamed, and Y/n wondered how he could act so well. He had always had a flair for the dramatic, leaping at the chance to put on an accent for reconnaissance for a case, or coming up with ridiculously fabricated tales of fights with Visitors to boast to Kipps, but that wasn't anything compared to hiding the fact that he had argued with the daughter of the woman he was smiling at, and was pretending to date her and love her regardless.

"I won't ever like you in the same way."

That had hurt the most, and Y/n had spent much of her time awake attempting to figure out why. It wasn't the entire sentence about Lockwood not liking her in the same way as Lucy, George, and Holly, as that hadn't been the part that had been on repeat. No, for some reason it had been his admission that his feelings wouldn't change from the hatred they shared that made her want to rip her heart out every time she saw his smile.

"Nonsense!" her mother said as she sat back in her seat. "Alright everyone, get stuck in!"

The next ten minutes were a frenzy of paper being ripped into and presents being opened, and Lockwood and Y/n were curled up on the loveseat like they had on the first day quietly working their way through their piles. At least they had an excuse for not talking to each other, since their presents were taking up the majority of their attention.

At least they ought to have been.

One of Lockwood's arms was around her waist, hand resting lightly on her thigh while he watched her unwrap her remaining gifts. He had long since finished, having thanked Emma profusely for the box of chocolates and ten pound note that he'd been given. Y/n was finding it difficult to concentrate with Lockwood's warmth behind her, and he was doing that thing where he stroked his fingers over her skin. His hand had moved from her thigh to her stomach, fingers drifting under the fabric of the jumper she had accidentally stolen from him and tracing patterns absentmindedly. It seemed to be something that happened any time they were in this sort of position, and she was frustrated at how much she enjoyed it.

"You alright?" he whispered.

"Yep." She didn't look back at him, instead focusing on the plain envelope she now held in her hands and frowning at it.

"Oh!" Stephanie cried out, and Y/n had forgotten just how annoying her voice was since they had barely interacted the day before. "That's from us! It's... well. Why don't you open it up?" If the smirk on Stephanie and Linda's faces were anything to go by, it wouldn't be Y/n's favourite gift she received this year.

"What is it?" Lockwood asked from behind her, peering over her shoulder at the piece of card that had been inside. "A coupon or a gift card or something?"

"Gym membership, Lockwood. They got me a gym membership." Dammit, her voice was shaking and her eyes were prickling with unshed tears, and worst of all she knew that Lockwood could tell. She hated that she leaned ever so slightly further into his body. She hated that when he brought his free hand around her to properly wrap her in a hug she was painfully aware of Stephanie and Linda watching every movement, and could feel their judgement of her body.

Then she hated that she felt safe and protected in Lockwood's embrace, like nothing could hurt her as long as he was holding her.

There was nothing wrong with how she looked, and it wasn't her fault that Stephanie was a size 2 (probably, Y/n had never bothered to ask) and liked to gloat about it frequently, but the cut ran deep and had done for years. When Y/n stood up and left much like she had on the first day, she wasn't surprised to see the triumphant look on her cousin's face.

~~~

Lockwood was fuming, but this time he couldn't set anything on fire.

To be fair, he hadn't been allowed to set anything on fire the previous times it had happened, and multiple of those accounts of arson were Lucy's fault, not his, but he still wanted to burn something.

How dare they give a fucking gym membership as a Christmas present?! What did they think they would achieve in doing so?! Stephanie and Linda clearly looked proud of themselves, and the sight of their faces made Lockwood feel sick when he remembered how Y/n's body had tensed up and curled into him more at the piece of card in the envelope.

Taking his chance after Y/n left the room, Lockwood stood up, then headed over to Stephanie. "Can we talk?" he asked, although the tone he used made it clear that he wouldn't be taking no for an answer. He led her out into the hallway, then into the kitchen for good measure, and his remaining restraint snapped with the sound of the door closing. "Are you out of your mind?" He hadn't shouted, instead keeping his voice as calm as he could, but he knew that his anger was barely contained behind his gritted teeth.

"I don't know what you mean," Stephanie simpered, and Lockwood took a step closer to her.

"A gym membership?!"

Steph shrugged. "She needs it. She's really let herself go the last-"

"No, she hasn't. And I would fucking know, because I live with her. She is perfect the way she is, alright? And you have no right - absolutely none - to give her that sort of thing as a Christmas present. It really just proves that you have no idea who she is, and that you're a fucking terrible person."

"Oh, like you're so honourable!" she spat.

"What's going on?" Emma's voice sounded, and the kitchen door opened to show the rest of Y/n's family that were still in the house. "Why is there shouting?"

"Y/n's little boyfriend here is accusing me of not knowing my own cousin!"

"Because you don't!"

"And you know more about her than me, do you?!"

"It looks like it, yes!"

"Everything was so much better before you turned up, do you know that? Why don't you scurry back to whatever shithole you and your parents live in and we'll carry on with our lives, yeah?" Lockwood flinched.

"Stephanie! Linda, please, can't you do something?!" Emma pleaded. She sent a quiet apology to Lockwood, looking distressed at how quickly Christmas Day had fallen into arguments.

"She's right, Emma. If he wasn't here then everything would be right again. Why don't we keep Y/n here for a few more days, and he can go back to his sad little life with his parents." He flinched again, barely having time to compose himself before Linda was smiling sweetly at him.

"I would, Linda, but I am not leaving my girlfriend here with you."

"Well," Stephanie started. "Why don't you invite your family up here then? I'm sure we'd all love to meet the people that raised such a... lovely... person!"

"Once again, I would," Lockwood said, as nonchalantly as he could, "but I very much doubt that you'd find much to talk to them about."

"Are they deaf or something?" Lockwood saw Y/n through her brothers' bodies, and she was trying to push past them to join him in the kitchen.

"Something like that," he smiled, hoping they couldn't see the sadness in it. Technically his family was deaf, since they were unable to hear anything on account of the fact that they were dead. Y/n stumbled forward, having finally been let through, and she righted herself and walked over to where Lockwood was stood.

"You alright?" she asked, her voice quiet so that only he could hear. "Just heard them mention your family and stuff, and Steph can be really mean about literally everything and I didn't want you to be on your own for that."

"Oh." He blinked in surprise. He hadn't thought that she would care too much since she'd ignored him and hated him thoroughly since last night. "I'm alright; I can deal with it, don't worry." His smile was soft, and for a brief moment he thought he might be breaking through to the Y/n he had come to know over the past two days before everything went wrong, but then the blinds were snapped shut and he was blocked out again.

~~~

Lunch was interesting.

Emma and Ben had slaved for hours to get everything ready, having left the morning celebrations at various points to put things in the ovens, or chop things, or do anything that was needed, and mid-afternoon their hard work was served up on huge plates to the family.

"Thank you, this looks incredible," Lockwood said, and Emma grinned.

"You're very welcome, Anthony!" She sat down in her seat, making sure everybody had food on their plates before taking up her cracker. Y/n's grandparents needed her brothers talking directly into their ears to explain what was happening over the noise of everyone else, and it took a full five minutes to get everybody with crackers in hand and arms crossed over before they could be pulled.

Hats were put on, and pictures taken on the family camera (and then Y/n asked Will to take some on her personal camera too), and finally they could start eating. People read out their jokes and trivia, and while the laughter of various family members was loud, Y/n couldn't help but feel like it was all muffled and distant. She was underwater again, her ears filled with water as she tried swimming up to the surface, but the weight of her cousin's gaze was dragging her down into the depths again.

Then a hand was on her arm, gentle but enough of a pressure that she was being pulled upwards, and Lockwood's voice was in her ear.

"Hey, are you alright? You zoned out for a minute there and I had to rescue your potato from going off the side of your plate."

Sure enough, her fork was pushing the contents of her plate closer to the edge, and she quickly let go of her cutlery to stop it. The knife and fork landed with a clatter, and while conversation didn't stop, it did die down as people looked in her direction. "I'm fine," she replied, knowing she was the opposite. Lockwood appeared to know too, because he was still frowning.

"Are you su-"

"Yes," she said harshly, and he flinched back.

"Okay, sorry." He turned back to his own food, and they didn't speak for most of the rest of the meal.

~~~

"Book!"

"Play?"

"It's a book, you idiot!"

"John, don't call Sam an idiot!"

"Mum, you can't talk when doing a charade," Will said, and he received a glare in response.

"How do you reckon the others are getting on with their holidays?" Y/n asked, and Lockwood was surprised at her question.

"I imagine they're all having wonderful times," he replied, revelling in the smile that graced Y/n's face. It was a shame that the cause of the smile wasn't him, but he only had himself to blame for that.

"That's good. At least most of the company is enjoying Christmas."

Somewhere in the house, a phone started ringing. Ben got up to answer.

"I'm enjoying it," Lockwood said, and Y/n swivelled in her seat a little to look at him. "Besides the obvious, of course."

"Me?"

"No," he huffed. "Why do you keep thinking that you're the last person I want to spend Christmas with?"

"Because you literally said that you wouldn't enjoy a second of it?"

"Well that was a lie, wasn't it? Honestly, do you not remember anything I told you last night about me having a nice time here instead of the usual shitty Christmases since I was six?" That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Y/n froze up and stopped smiling.

"I remember last night, yeah," she mumbled, turning her back to him again. Shit.

"Thinking about it," he said, attempting to salvage the situation, "I haven't seen any baby photos of you yet."

"Be my guest." Her tone was bland, and Lockwood started internally cursing himself for bringing up the night before.

"Y/n, I'm sorry for what I said, alright? I was a dick and I should have explained myself better. Would you-"

"THE BIBLE! IT'S THE BIBLE!"

"YES!"

"WHAT?! THE BIBLE? THAT'S A CHARADE?!"

"Would you hear me out? Please? When we get a moment later," he asked, trying to mask the amount of desperation in his voice.

"You better have a good excuse, Anthony, because you really hurt me, and if you fuck up again I'm leaving."

"Leaving? What, like leaving the house?"

"Leaving the company."

Lockwood thought his heart might give out. "Wh- wha- what do you mean, leave the company?"

"I can't keep doing this, okay? I can't get up every morning just to be verbally abused by you all the time. It's not healthy for me, at all. I have to look out for myself, alright?"

"...Right. Yeah, no, that's... that makes sense." He was still reeling from her confession, so when Y/n's grandmother Jean tapped him on the shoulder he nearly jumped out of his skin. Y/n hadn't noticed, instead joining in with the ongoing game of charades.

"Why don't you take this, dear," she said, giving him a wink and handing over a sprig of some sort of plant.

"Uh... thank you?"

"Mistletoe. You know, it was originally a sign of peace, and if people met underneath it then they had to stop fighting, no matter what. Sounds like you two might need it," she smiled, but unlike Stephanie or Linda there was only love behind it. Lockwood stared down at the plant he held in his hand, but when he went to thank Jean for the gift she had already gone back to whatever conversation she was having with Tom, her previous chat long forgotten.

"I've got some news," Y/n's father Ben exclaimed as he walked back into the room, and everybody turned to look at him.

"What is it? Why do you sound so worried?"

"Nobody is going to be able to travel anywhere for about a week. I just got a phone call from Ted at the office." Lockwood felt Y/n tense beside him, and he tried not to do the same.

"What do you mean, Dad?"

"Snow warning. Weather officials are saying that a snow storm is going to hit us today and we'll all be snowed in. All trains are cancelled for the next week, and then after that it's unclear."

"What? So we're stuck here for another week?" Y/n asked, and Lockwood heard the panic creeping into her voice. This wasn't good at all, especially since he and Y/n now had to continue faking it for an extra seven days when they were back to hating each other. He needed to fix things and fast, or this holiday would continue to derail and end in flames.

"Sorry, love. I know you wanted to get back before the New Year."

"Yeah," she whispered, looking down at the ground. "Shit."

~~~

"Can we... can we talk?" Lockwood asked once they had a moment to breathe. After the news that they would be here for another week Y/n had excused herself and headed upstairs, and Lockwood had apparently followed.

"What is there to talk about, Lockwood?"

"Well don't we need to rethink? Originally we were only here for three days, and that was manageable. Now we're here for an extra week minimum? I don't know, call me crazy but I really do think we need to figure out how we're going to do this." He was running his hand through his hair again (what was in his other one, was that mistletoe?), but he stopped when Y/n looked him dead in the eyes and answered him.

"You're crazy." She didn't even know why he had the plant, unless he was planning on kissing her again and then ripping her heart out afterwards. Y/n went over to the windows to pull open the blinds the rest of the way to ignore the memory of his mouth on hers. They hadn't been properly closed the night before, and with how the sun rose directly through the windows Lockwood had probably been blinded by it that morning and woken up. He looked far too sleep deprived for him to have woken up at half seven in the morning though.

"Ok, well at the very least can we talk about last night?"

Y/n had stopped by the windows, staring out at the landscape and ignoring Lockwood's question.

"Y/n?"

"Holy shit." Where normally the view was the lake nearby and the forest in the distance, rolling fields spreading out in the foreground, now it had been coated in a blanket of white as far as the eye could see.

"What is it?"

"Just... just come and look." He did, hesitantly coming over to stand beside her and drawing in a breath at the landscape.

"Holy shit."

"That's what I said. Fuck. I was hoping it wouldn't be that bad and we could still find a way to get home."

"Yeah, we're not going anywhere in this. I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" she frowned, turning her head to look at him. "You're not the snow god who deliberately penned us in my family home for an extra week."

"No, I'm not." Lockwood went quiet, staring out the window but not actually seeing anything, his eyes unfocused as he got wrapped up in his head. "Can we talk about last night? Please?" Y/n looked out the window again.

"What for? I think you said everything I needed to hear."

"I didn't, though. You didn't let me finish saying what I was going to say before you went and shut yourself in the bathroom." His tone was desperate, and Y/n half thought he might start getting on his knees and begging. A memory came back to her of her doing the same thing only a few days ago when she begged him to come with her on this mad venture. He'd been laughing then.

"Well I don't know that I want to know what I missed."

"I was going to say that I won't ever like you in the same way as the others, because I can't. I don't think I realised that until it was too late, but I can't like you in the same way I like George, or Lucy, or Holly, because I think that I'm-"

"Right!" Stephanie shouted, shoving open the door. She stopped short at the sight of Y/n and Lockwood stood so close together, and then again at the pain on Lockwood's face. Y/n hadn't realised that as Lockwood had been talking, he had been inching closer in his attempt to get her to listen to him. They were practically touching now, and Stephanie glanced between them both until they stepped back a little. "You two," she said, jabbing a finger in their direction once she'd remembered what she was there for, "have ruined my Christmas, I hope you know that!" Y/n shared a look with Lockwood. "So watch out, alright? Because I'm coming for you both!" she shrieked, and slammed the door on her way out.

Y/n and Lockwood stood staring at the door for a while before Lockwood spoke up. "Did she seem okay to you?"

"I think she's having some sort of breakdown."

"I thought so too."

"Sort of looked like a banshee or something."

"Especially with the hair all crazy like that, did you see?"

"She'll definitely have a breakdown when she sees that birds are nesting in it, for sure." It felt easy all of a sudden, and conversing with Lockwood wasn't as hard as it had been a couple of hours ago. There was hope, she realised. Hope that he really did have something nice to say. He wouldn't have looked quite so ridiculously desperate for her attention otherwise. She ignored the way that butterflies started fluttering in her stomach at the thought of Lockwood craving her attention so badly. Before this whole ordeal she would have simply felt smug about having the upper hand.

"I really didn't mean it in a hurtful way, Y/n. Although I can see how it came across like that."

"Well what did you mean, Lockwood? Because you did hurt me. And now we're fucking snowed in for a week longer than we planned and Steph is on a rampage. And when Steph is on a rampage she will absolutely have what it takes to uncover this whole fake relationship thing, despite having, like, zero brain cells the rest of the time."

He sighed, clenching his jaw in frustration. "I can't feel the same way because I'm pretty sure I've-" he paused, then took a breath. Why was he taking so long to say something that could make their entire situation easier? He looked uncertain again, and Y/n started feeling nervous.

Lockwood was never uncertain. He was Anthony bloody Lockwood.

Then when he spoke, she realised why.

part 7 (coming soon!)

Tag list (there are so many people that if I forgot to add you then please let me know and I'll do that right away!): @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @bobbys-not-that-small, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12

let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the tag list! <3

The problem is that America has beaten down its people for decades and gotten them weak and desperate and now promises a way out, a way to transcend and rise above, through selling out their fellow man. They encourage contempt and hatred as one way ticket to not being included with the masses being death marched to poverty or imprisonment or whatever other bitter end surely awaits the people they’re told are beneath them. An embarrassingly large chunk of white men are just straight up nazis these days as a way to dissociate from the rest of the carnage around them, even if they’re broke and uneducated and from an impoverished background themselves. They’ll vote for and align themselves with anything for a taste of power and control that makes them feel a little less helpless. The same goes for minorities. They’ll punch down if they think it’ll get them somewhere, even if in reality they’re punching sideways. I don’t know what else to say, really. Everybody is so incredibly hateful. We are a loveless, disrespectful nation. We are so spread thin by our government that we would sell each other out in a heartbeat for an ounce of relief. This is what we’ve come to.

It’s not even about Trump at this point. He’s gonna get in office and do whatever he does and it’s gonna be a mess but whatever. This is indicative of deeper problem. This is just the ugly consequence of the already present reality in this country that we all just despise each other. There is no solidarity and there is no love. Trump being in office or not doesn’t change the fact that America is a breeding ground for violent hatred. Trump has given people a shining example of how to give in to the worst parts of your human nature and make it the problem of everyone around them. I don’t even know what we’re supposed to do about that. I don’t know if that’s something we can come back from. And if anything COULD be done about it, Trump certainly wouldn’t do it. Honestly, Kamala probably wouldn’t have either. We are so deeply fucked.

However, I must say, if you voted for Trump, I hope that peace never finds you. Instead, I hope clarity strikes you someday like a clap of lightning and you have to live the rest of your life with the knowledge and guilt of what you’ve done and who you are as a person.

Love yall. Shit is so bleak but the world keeps spinning until it doesn’t, I guess. We can’t count on the government for literally even a shred of progress or hope so just keep up the good fight in your own personal lives. That’s literally the only thing to be done at this point. Stay safe out there. Maybe buy a gun.

𖦹 i want somebody to want pt. 2 𖦹

pair: jason todd x gn!reader

plot: faced with the knowledge that there is someone out there for him, jason todds life is thrown in a whirlwind

wc: 3.8k

authors note: i'm thinking about making the reader in this series an artist. the issue: i can't decide whether their focus is visual art, music, writing, or some performing art. I would appreciate any input you have on this, as it'll probably be mentioned in the next part of this series!

pt. 1

The first time Jason Todd saw you, he swore his heart stopped beating again. 

Since that drunken night out at the bar, Jason had begun to look for you everywhere. He went out as a civilian more, began accepting offers to grab a coffee or go hangout somewhere. His siblings, of course, had taken advantage of this fact. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but everywhere he looked, he always tried to catch a glimpse of you. The photos Tim had found online of you were ingrained in his brain. When he closed his eyes, his subconscious was no longer filled with all the dreadful things he’d done and experienced. Your smile—the same one he now searched for in crowds—replaced every aspect of his mind. 

Jason had opted for a hoodie layered underneath his leather jacket that day. Damian was bundled up as well, donning a rather janky scarf that Dick had made for him during his crochet phase. Aware of his brother's newfound interest in going out in public, Damian asked Jason if he would take him to a park to gather materials needed for his science class diorama. Agreeing, Jason had picked him up from school and walked with him through the better parts of Gotham to one of the only clean and functioning parks, which just so happened to be near the University area.

“Odd location of park, Todd.”

“Shut it, Wayne.”

Despite the various offers from his family to track you down or learn more about you, Jason had strictly told them not to, beyond looking up your social media and what was public. Even then, he had hesitated when Tim found your accounts. He didn’t want to learn every little thing about you before you had even met—it felt intrusive. He didn’t want his vigilante family stalking you; crashing into your apartment or kidnapping you to meet him, as Damian had lovingly suggested. He wanted what was between you two to be natural, to happen in its own time.

Damian was crouched beside a bush, gathering twigs and little rocks while Jason stood beside him, surveying the park out of habit. Despite the sun's rays shining down, the chill in the breeze had every kid playing on the playground bundled up, and the occasional couple holding hands, walking a little closer to retain some heat. Thankfully, Damian had no interest in looking for materials anywhere near the rowdy playground, so they opted to walk around the wide field, staying on the somewhat scenic walking trail. 

In the middle of the grassy field, about 30 people were gathered around a picnic table where an older man sat. He had kept his eye on the group for a while now, and had deducted that it was a class of sorts. The people listening to the man speak looked to be around his age, and all of them had bags. Some stood while many sat on the grass in front of the man. 

“Jason, the bag please.” Damian's arm shot up towards Jason, gesturing to the grocery bag halfway full of rocks and twigs. Handing it to him, Jason watched in amusement as Damian inspected two rocks meticulously, carefully placing one of them into the bag and tossing the other behind him carelessly. 

“Hey, look before you throw those things.”

 Damian's response was another smaller rock thrown at his brother's chest. Jason scoffed, crossing his arms as he turned back to the field, observing the class. 

It seemed to be ending, as the people began to stand up and walk away, some by themselves, others in groups. Through the rush of everyone standing, he saw—

You. 

Holy fucking shit. You were here. 

Even from far away, he could see laughter bubbling out of your mouth as you wiped grass off yourself, talking to a friend of yours. You were radiant; and call it cliche, but to him you were shining brighter than the sun. Thankfully, you were slow to pack up, so he watched, totally captivated by you as you talked with your friends in a small group around the professor. 

Seeing you like this was surreal to Jason. The way you smiled at something someone said, how you looked around at the scenery around you, the way you existed and interacted with people—it was surreal. 

Until now, you had only existed in the wonders of his mind at night and as a static photo in his phone. Yet here you were, existing in your own world that hadn’t yet collided with his. You had no idea that in less than seven months, you would find his name on your arm. 

Jason felt nauseous. Even from this far away, you outmatched everything his mind had come up with from the photos. An overwhelming sense of dread slowly crawled its way up his throat. He couldn’t pinpoint where it came from or what he was feeling exactly, but all he knew was that he wasn’t okay. His mouth was dry, and his eyes were slightly more watery. Despite this, he couldn’t look away. If seeing you from this far away had that effect on him, he didn’t know what he would do when he actually met you, face to face. A little sadly, he watched as you picked up your bag, waving to your professor and friends as you walked away. His eyes never left your retreating figure, and the muscles in his calves twitched to follow. 

“Ahki,” the tug on Jason's pants reminded him why he was here in the first place, who he was, where he was, and that he wasn’t alone. “Am I allowed to put this in the diorama?” 

Hesitantly (and with much effort), Jason tore his gaze from your distant figure, looking down to the caterpillar in Damians hand. He sighed, shaking his head and turning back to where his heart had disappeared to. 

“No, leave it be Damian.”

Later, further down the line on a cozy night in, he would inquire why your class had been outdoors that day. You would tell him the heater in your classroom was broken, causing the room to feel like the insides of a toaster oven. Your professor could only shed so many layers before he decided to go on a field trip to a local park for class where it was much cooler. The students had been enthusiastic about it, and ultimately, paid more attention to what their professor was lecturing. 

You, being the way that you are, would apologize for not noticing him further away on the trail. Scoffing at that, he would pull you tighter against him on the couch. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry for,” he’d say softly, placing a delicate kiss on your temple. “I was a wreck when I saw you anyways. Probably would have thrown up if you came up to talk to me.” 

“Well, I was a wreck when I first talked to you too.”

“At Sifted?”

“No, not the coffee shop,” you would snuggle further into him, closing your eyes as a hum of contentment rumbled through Jason's chest. “When I was walking home from the studio.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩  ♡  ✩˚｡⋆𖦹｡°⋆✮

The first time Jason Todd interacted with you, it was behind the mask. He had added your general area to his patrol route, despite the low crime rates. If he were being completely honest, it was a much needed respite from crime alley. It allowed him to calm down before going somewhere to rest, simply watching as students walked home from their late night classes, or drunkenly hopped from bar to bar. Occasionally, he would beat up some bastards from following students home, save a couple places from robberies, crack down on some drug deals—the typical stuff. 

It was nearing five in the morning when he arrived at your apartment. He typically started out his patrol here on the roof of the building, surveying the area (and resisting the urge to jump down onto your third floor fire escape) before expanding outward towards the more crime ridden and shadowy parts of the area. 

The streets were eerily vacant this time of night. The only noises were the occasional far off gunshot, the sounds of cars backfiring, and distant yells of drunk frat kids at the bars a couple blocks over. These sounds had all become familiar to Gotham residents, and sitting atop some random buildings jagged rooftop, Jason closed his eyes, allowing his bruised and scar ridden body to relax for a minute. 

A far off cry for help snapped his eyes open. 

Alert, his head whipped around, trying to determine which direction the cry had come from. 

Another yell, and he was running across rooftops. 

Grappling down onto a balcony, he spotted the struggle between two people on the side of the street. One of them ran out of the darkness, towards the streetlight and Jason felt his heart stop yet again. 

It was you. 

You, and some asshole attempting to do god knows what. 

Instantly he jumped down from the balcony, running to the man who had his eyes set on you. He was attempting to say something, probably some threat meant to scare you into submission, but it never left his throat. 

The Red Hood grabbed the man's ragged clothing, yanking him back. He came tumbling backwards, a curse escaping his mouth. 

Jason swung, his fist colliding with the man's chin. The sharp clack of teeth hitting teeth was painful to hear, let alone watch as the man was hurled to the hard pavement from the punch. 

The man groaned loudly, yelling curses. Jason stalked over to the man, lifting him up by the shirt before giving him another painful punch to his temple. The man wasn’t knocked out, per say, but now he was incapable of forming a coherent sentence or moving his limbs in a precise manner. 

Squatting, Red Hood rummaged through his belt for tactical wire. He turned his head, helmet looking at your shocked figure. At some point, probably when he had uppercut the guy, you had sunk to the floor, leaning against the light pole. 

You stared wide eyed at the scene, gaze flickering from the man to Red Hood. He simply turned his head, flipping the man onto his stomach and tying his hands together behind his back. His head pounded from the adrenaline, from the fact that you had been in danger. 

He stood, walking towards you. From this height, you looked like a frightened alley cat, curled up on itself. Slowly, he stuck his hand out. 

Your gaze flickered from the gloved hand to the helmet, hesitantly placing your hand atop his. Jason's heart soared. 

In the most careful manner, Jason helped to pull you up off the cold cement, standing back on your feet. His hand never let go of yours, and you slowly pulled it back, fixing your attire. 

“Thank you…” your voice was shaky, and this close, Jason saw the way you trembled slightly. If you weren’t here, he would have killed the guy squirming on the sidewalk a few feet away. 

Despite the obvious tremor in your voice, Jason's throat had closed up at finally, finally hearing your voice. The deep, soul-clutching feeling from when he saw you at the park a couple weeks ago slowly made its second appearance in his gut, and the temperature inside his helmet seemed to increase. Turning his head, he saw a bag discarded on the ground, the same one you had with you on that cold day at the park. 

Walking over to the bag, he got down on one knee and picked up all the things that fell out of it. 

Chapstick, two pens, a wallet with a very familiar government ID, some coins, and….a tiny plastic dinosaur? 

Jason smiled, putting it back inside your bag before standing once more, bringing the bag back over to you. Your eyes hadn’t left him, and your hand had grabbed your bag with much less hesitance than before. You thanked him yet again, fumbling with your clothing and keychains. Jason watched, and noted how your breathing continued to come rather fast, your jaw beginning to tremble. 

He didn’t want you to feel threatened, didn’t want you to ever feel whatever you were feeling right now. Your gaze flickered to the semi-unconscious man on the pavement. Jason could tell how scared you still were, despite the attacker being tied up and incapacitated behind him. His mind raced to help you without coming off as odd or threatening. He couldn’t offer you a hug, who would want to hug Red Hood? The famed murderer and crime lord turned vigilante, turned Batman Associate. Not exactly the most comforting person. Despite this, his arms ached to hold you, to wrap his frame around yours and guard you from the rest of the world. 

All Jason wanted was to protect you. 

“Were you walking home?” When he spoke, he tried his damn best to sound less intimidating through the helmet modulator. Your head lifted to look at him, or rather the mask. You nod slowly. 

“I’ll walk you the rest of the way.”

“You don’t have to, you’ve already done enough—”

“I want to.” His voice left no room for negotiation, and somehow, you knew this wasn’t a battle you would win. A small smile crept its way onto your face, and you nodded, muttering a small okay. 

You began to walk. 

Jason followed. 

He always would. 

It had only been a few silent minutes by the time your apartment building loomed before you. You turned back towards Red Hood, awkwardly thanking him once more, getting a nod in response before entering the building. 

From a rooftop, Jason watched as the lights in your living room turned on. Turning with the final knowledge that you were safely home, he made his way back towards the man he left binded up on the sidewalk. 

Despite his own doubts and insecurities, he reminded himself you were his for a reason. You were the one person who could comfort him the most, help him in his darkest times, and love him despite all the wrongs he's done, rough edges and all. And regardless of what his brain told him, he could do the same for you. Tonight was proof of that. The universe, despite it’s wild and fucked up ways, had given him the gift of you. You two were made for each other—you’re his soulmate. 

As he landed down on the sidewalk, the man turned his head, eyes widening at the return of Red Hood. He blabbered, begging for mercy as Jason loomed over him. 

The bastard was going to regret ever attempting to hurt you. 

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩  ♡  ✩˚｡⋆𖦹｡°⋆✮

The first time you met Jason Todd was an accident. 

In the last year or so of moving to Gotham, you had made it a habit to leave your overpriced apartment every couple days to work/study in the cozy coffee shop—Sifted—a block away. You had settled into a routine of going there after class, in the mornings, and whenever you needed air from your cramped apartment. Quickly, you had made yourself a regular. 

You began to notice other regulars as well; a mother with her two toddlers who would be there for lunch every Tuesday and Thursday, back on Sundays with the father. A group of teenagers who would come in every morning before walking to school, and an older man who seemed to constantly be stressed out who ordered a comically large plain black coffee. 

The quaint little Cafe was a hidden gem in Gotham, hidden away from the crime and ugly side of the city. Everywhere you looked inside the place was aesthetically pleasing, with a plethora of plants, as well as a small free library and games for kids. The seating was diverse as well, with tables of different heights and shapes, comfy chairs, and plush couches/cushions for the kid area. 

Simply put, it fulfilled all your aesthetic coffee shop dreams. 

As of late, you had noticed the recurring presence of a handsome guy, about your age, brunette with good style, who was absolutely shredded. You had first seen him a couple weeks ago in the afternoon when you sat down at your usual corner table to get some work done. He sat across the shop in a leather chair, facing your direction. On the little side table, he had a steaming beverage—either tea or coffee you guessed—and a book in hand. 

The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde. 

To say that you were a little attracted to him would be an understatement. He had sporadically been showing up to the coffee shop since then (always with a book), and you had been lucky enough to be there at the same time he was. Once, while waiting in line to order, you had watched through the front glass windows as a red motorcycle pulled up to the shop, the rider parking and taking off their helmet.

 Of course, Mr. Bookworm rode a motorcycle. After gaining this new bit of information on him, your mind went wild with fantasies and dreams of being swept away off your feet, taken to ride somewhere at top speeds through Gotham streets. 

Your brain told you that this was a stupid hallway crush—there was zero chance of getting with him. And yet, the countless times you had caught his eye, or exchanged a quick smile with him while leaving or entering made you think otherwise, because maybe, just maybe he was curious about you too. 

Today, you were a mess. You had attempted to pull an all-nighter working on a project for one of your classes, but had fallen asleep on the rug in your living room. You woke up around noon feeling more tired than you were before falling asleep, and your stomach was rumbling and aching for food. You were more than disappointed to see you forgot to go shopping for basic snacks and things to eat that didn’t require cooking or more than two dishes. 

You had opted to stop by Sifted, the coffee shop on your way to class to pick up a sandwich and coffee to help energize you before rushing to your 1 PM class. When you approached the cafe, your heart skipped a beat to see a certain red motorcycle parked outside. 

Entering, you were a little shocked to see your guy sitting with another man (also shredded) with a small gray dog in his lap. His eyes flickered to you as you entered, and you smiled at him before rushing to the counter and ordering your much needed coffee. Rather than sit down, you stood by the counter where they placed all the drinks, opening your phone and aimlessly scrolling. 

You would be lying if you said you weren’t eyeing the two men in your peripheral vision. 

The soft music playing over the speakers, combined with the typical clamor from the kitchen and baristas muffled their conversation. After five or so minutes of scrolling and stealing glances, the barista placed two drinks down on the counter. 

Taking one of the cardboard cups into your hand, you quickly thanked the barista before turning. On your way out, you passed the guy on his way to the counter. An intrusive thought about the height difference between you two filled you with shame, and you quickened your way to the door. 

Once outside, you threw away the receipt in a trashcan, bringing your coffee in its to-go cup to your lips. 

What went down your throat was not coffee. This was not what you ordered. 

Swallowing, you brought the cup up higher, inspecting the writing in bold marker on the side—

Hot Chocolate - Jason

No way. 

No fucking way, you had just stolen someone elses drink. 

It wasn’t just anyone either. It was the guy of your dreams, who you now knew to be named Jason. Jason, who rode a red motorcycle, read at a coffee shop for an hour almost every day, while drinking Hot Chocolate of all things.

Sighing, you turn back around, walking into the cozy shop once more. Instantly, you make eye contact with the guy Jason, who is standing in front of his friend, or whoever he was here with, drink held high to inspect it. Your drink. 

Sheepishly, you make your way over to him, apologizing. “Hi, I am so sorry, you’re Jason, right? I just grabbed a drink without looking even though I probably should have and I accidentally took yours and already took a sip of it, so can I buy you another drink if you want? I’m sorry again…” 

The lack of proper sleep seemed to be getting to you, and you only realized when you were done how you had rambled to him. You heard a chuckle, and glanced behind Jason to his friend who was smiling, looking down at the dog in his lap. 

“It’s no big deal,” Jason responded, looking down at you. He took a sip of his your drink. “Do you always get this? It’s good.”

A little taken aback by his friendly demeanor, you allow yourself to smile more freely. He wasn’t mad, which meant he probably didn’t hate you, which also meant that you still had a slim chance with this guy. 

“Sometimes I do.” You tell him your name, pointing to the cup where it was written. He introduces himself too, despite the fact you already know. 

“I’ve uh, noticed you around here a lot.” He ran a hand through his hair, and you swear he knew what he was doing. 

“Yeah, me too. Not me, obviously. You–I’ve noticed you too.” Seriously, you need to work on how well you respond in high-stress situations. He smiles in response, nodding. It’s an awkward interaction, really, but not in an unbearable way. It’s almost sweet, how neither of you can hold eye contact for too long before looking down or fidgeting in some way. 

The conversation lulls there before you see a clock and realize you have fifteen minutes to make it to your class on time. 

“Well I uh, I have to go but it was nice to meet you.” You take a step backwards, wanting to run away and stay there talking to him at the same time. His lips draw tight into a line and he nods. “And sorry again for stealing your drink.” 

“It’s really alright. Have a good day.” 

“You too!” With that awkward end, you turn and basically run towards the door, exiting the shop and quickly walking down the sidewalk, away from Jason, Hot Chocolate in hand. Even with embarrassment flaming through your body, you can’t help the wide grin from settling onto your face. 

He had noticed you. 

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You had noticed him. 

The thought alone made him giddy, and as he replayed the entire interaction, he couldn’t help his heart from thumping wildly in his ribcage. 

You had talked to him. You apologized to him, said his name. 

Slowly, he sat back down in his usual leather chair, starstruck. Next to him, Dick laughed as he watched his brother. 

“If this is how you're acting after one small interaction, I think you’re in trouble.”

“Shut up, Dick.” 

Haley barked softly, wagging her tail.