Daily Reminder That The U.S. Has Been Supporting These Kinds Of Genocidal Wars Of Aggression For 100+

Who else up at this ungodly hour with an insatiable yearning that makes them sick to their stomach

im like if a girl thought she was irredeemable despite never having done anything that should make her feel this way

well, i'm still in love with you !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their fall-in-love-again era is them soft launching each other while driving their friends wild.

or

for when you're still in love with them and will be for forever. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader

prequel - saw ur mom at the grocery store ·˚ ༘

warnings - language. suggestive jokes (???)

author's note - im so SORRY for not updating life is CRAZY rn like ???? so much has happened like im in LOVE im DONE with SCHOOL i have EXAMS SJSHSJSJKSKS im so sorry i hope u like this i love u all <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, lilymhe and 1,725,819 others

yourusername he's in my head so much i might as well just give him some

11,628 comments

username HOLD UP

username im shaking in my big girl boots rn what the Fuck

username y/n ?????

username SCREECHING

username roman empire or roman empire

username IM DYING OH MY GOD

landonorris just because you can type something doesn't mean you SHOULD

-> yourusername shut up u literally sprouted like an unwanted weed and not even the good kind

-> yourusername i am sorry that was mean

-> landonorris 😕

-> username someone keep these two away from each other before y/n makes lando cry 😭

username live love laugh y/n y/l/n

username i need cameras recording their whole vacation !!!!!!!!!

username this whole holiday will be so much more entertaining than 90% of all the tv shows out there 😭😭

username lord i pray that this is about charles

maxverstappen1 you didn't hear it from me but he's giggling

-> yourusername tell him to stop giggling and help me chase those seagulls away

-> landonorris LEAVE MY SEAGULLS ALONE

-> yourusername THEY ATE MY SANDWICH

username rip y/n's hater girl era u will be missed 😞☝️

username i know charles is thoroughly enjoying this like

username i will get over a lot of things in life but i will never get over lando and max joining the y/l/n-leclerc vacation simply because they do not trust charles to do the sensible thing

-> yourusername actually they're all dumb

-> maxverstappen1 excuse you

-> yourusername u called grey "dark white"

-> maxverstappen1 I PAID TO KEEP QUIET

-> yourusername blocking out the haters 🫸🙄🫷

username forever entertained by this group they never disappoint

username need me a max and lando to get me a bf or whatever 🙄🙄🙄

username waiting for charles to come here and say some stupid shit before going on with my day !!!!

charles_leclerc i bet u think about me

-> yourusername nah bc no way ferrari can make u THIS delusional what's the cause

-> yourusername i am sorry i was told that i cannot say shit about ferrari clown private limited whatever corporation

-> username please never change

charles_leclerc i will make u pasta !!!!!!!!

-> yourusername no thank u i saw what happened to arthur

-> charles_leclerc THAT WAS NOT MY FAULT THE PASTA WAS NOT GOOD

-> yourusername skill issue

charles_leclerc where r u

-> yourusername why r u typing like that

-> charles_leclerc lando said it's cool

-> yourusername lando thinks birds don't have feet don't believe him

-> landonorris why am i catching strays

username WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE FACT THAT CHARLES LIED TO GET MAX AND LANDO ON VACATION 😭😭

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by carlossainz55, pierregasly, landonorris and 2,167,926 others

charles_leclerc we'd still worship this love

12,628 comments

username NAH WHO IS THIS MAN

username OH ??????

username false god lyrics imma die 🤣🤣🤣

username y/n effect is so real

username PLEASE NOT CHARLES SOFT LAUNCHING HIS EX 😭😭😭

-> username y'all put some respect on my girl's name 😭

-> yourusername i am no one's ex i will sue u for defamation

-> charles_leclerc for legal reasons she's JOKING

-> yourusername how do U know that tf

-> username i missed this

username hshshdjssjdjsjjsajjn;;;;;;;;bwywuuaj;...

username crying this is everything i've prayed for

username no one's mentioning the fact that charles wasn't even supposed to go on the vacation 😭😭😭

-> landonorris he booked his tickets and acted like it was a mistake

-> charles_leclerc you're a mistake

-> username and THAT'S how i know y/n and charles are back together 🤞🤞🤞

username i need a documentary on this vacation u don't GET it

username max and lando we trust u

maxverstappen1 you just pushed your love in water

-> charles_leclerc she told me i looked like tweety from looney toons

-> maxverstappen1 well

username crying i love every second of this

username i need to study this man's brain under a microscope like

-> username his thought process is just so UNIQUE

username i need them to confirm their relationship so i can breathe a sigh of relief thank u

username need me a man who posts like this

yourusername told u taylor swift songs slap

-> charles_leclerc highkey

yourusername i'm the most hilarious person ever idk why ur mad

-> charles_leclerc you called me tweety

-> yourusername hilarious

-> charles_leclerc my lover's got humour

-> yourusername OMGGGGG

yourusername we might just get away with this

-> charles_leclerc i told you, if you commit murder i will NOT be an accomplice

-> yourusername those are lyrics but fuck u too i guess

username i prayed for times like this 🤞🤞

≡;- ꒰ °instagram stories ꒱

charles_leclerc added to their instagram stories

≡;- ꒰ °twitter ꒱

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, carmenmmundt and 1,972,628 others

yourusername well i'm still in love with u 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄 (❤️)

tagged charles_leclerc

comments are disabled for this post

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, pierregasly and 2,126,891 others

charles_leclerc 2 out of 262819 photos where she stole my phone and the one (1) photo with me in it like okaaaaaaaaaay (🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯💯💯💯🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️)

tagged yourusername

12,728 comments

username NAHHH WHO TAUGHT HIM HOW TO TYPE LIKE THAT

username PLEASE OMG

username andddddddd we're 🔙 to having charles have a breakdown every single time y/n (HIS GIRLFRIEND) interacts with him

username god heard my prayers

username why do i have a feeling lando and max went EXTREME

-> yourusername if u call pushing us both off the yacht and not letting us back on until we said "hiiiiii" civilly to each other extreme, then yes. they were EXTREME.

-> charles_leclerc still mad about it. i said "hiiiii 😍😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰🥰😘😘😘😘" and you said "hi 😐😐😐😐."

-> yourusername sorry i was too busy finding ways to poison u then ❤️❤️❤️ im good and better now ❤️❤️❤️ (police and officials LOOK AWAY)

-> username netflix needs to leave dts and document THIS

username someone should write a book on this vacation and it should be max ☝️☝️☝️

username WAR IS OVERRRRR

username they're BACK god bless

username the way i KNOW charles is thanking max and lando on his knees like homeboy would be stuck without them fr

-> danielricciardo excuse you i was the mastermind

-> landonorris you literally did nothing except sit on ft for hours and yell at us.

-> danielricciardo tell that to all those thank you texts (money) charles sent me

-> landonorris YOU TOLD ME NO ONE WILL BE GETTING PAID charles_leclerc

-> charles_leclerc i sent him $1 because heidi asked me to

-> heidiberger_ he threatened to fly out to italy i did everyone a favour

username the y/n effect is coming back with full throttle like yeaaaaaaaaah

username i need a trilogy on this vacation like i need EVERYTHING

username the way i KNOW both of their families just rejoiced like they were going through it 😭😭😭

username everyday i wake up and thank the lord and heavens for daniel ricciardo, max verstappen and lando norris

yourusername i look so good wtfff

-> charles_leclerc yes you do 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

yourusername bébé ( baby )

-> charles_leclerc mon ange ( my angel )

yourusername soulmates 4 sure

-> charles_leclerc 👍

-> username lord i am not your strongest soldier

-> username why is he like this 😭😭😭

yourusername lowk missed taking 26271727 selfies on ur phone

-> charles_leclerc missed seeing your pretty face every time i opened my gallery 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

-> username y/n never leave him again please

-> username my man's TRAUMATISED

　𝓶𝔂 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐎

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ this isn’t a self-help guide. i’m not your guru and this isn’t a powerpoint on gratitude. this is just me. sitting on the floor. i’m not here to raise your vibration. i’m here to ask why you think you need raising in the first place. i'm here because i’ve been hoarding revelations like they're concert wristbands. i'm here because reality is porous and i’ve got the straws. no, literally, i’ve sucked on time’s milkshake and found it lukewarm. we can do better.

you will not find steps here. there is no staircase. i burned it. we fly now.

　"how to"s . .

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀how to manifest.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀how to get what you want without affirmations.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀where is the stuff i manifested?

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀i have it, i have it, i have it, so where is it?

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀become the laziest manifestor.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀manifest anything in hours, minutes, and even seconds.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀banish resistance.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀how to stop looking at the 3d for results.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀how to manifest the future.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀manifesting faq.

　thesis's & concepts . .

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀energy and matter cannot be destroyed or created.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀barbie doll theory of self-concept.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀do less than nothing , get more than everything.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀i said what i said (and then it happened)

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀think it, know it, live it.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀hoping or remembering?

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀manifestation and the eroticism of longing.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀what's meant for me will find me.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀screw trying.

　doubts & negatives . .

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀adrift on a sea of self-inflicted delays.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀it didn't work before, why would it now?

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀the hardest pill to swallow.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀" there is no new information on tumblr "

　interactives . .

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀the manifesting seance club.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀pick a card and find out about your manifesting journey.

⋆· ༘* GOT THE SUN IN MY MF-ING POCKET !

pairing ★ jock!luke castellan x drum major!reader

synopsis ★ the one where you lock in for your fall final project. you and luke spill your guts and then hatch a plan. (3.9k)

content ★ no pronouns used for reader, luke pov!!, bad teenager humor, very vague smau, read psa at the end pls

notes ★ luke literally cannot catch a break here, read his mind and all u hear is incoherent screaming and bawling like olivia in all-american bitch

series masterlist

TRANSCRIPT EXCERPT: DAILY BULLETIN FOR DECEMBER XX, 20XX

PACE: […] And here are the upcoming events. Football - come to the media center to celebrate the end of the season, say goodbye to departing seniors, and welcome new team members. Although we didn’t get far in regionals, Coach Ares would like to give kudos to Luke Castellan for making the most touchdowns this season.

MIYAZAWA: Seniors - the counseling office is holding their last session to revise regular decision college applications in the Career Center. Please RSVP by Wednesday with the QR code provided by your English teacher. [pause] Speaking of school, ASB will also be hosting tri-weekly study halls starting next Monday in preparation for finals. Good luck on your tests!

PACE: And now it’s time for our joke of the day. Hey, Alice, what do you call an edible farmer that takes care of chickens?

MIYAZAWA: I don’t know, Malcolm, what do you call an edible farmer that takes care of chickens?

PACE: [flatly] A chicken tender.

PACE and MIYAZAWA: [exceeding fake laughter]

PACE: That’s all for today, Centaurs. I’m Malcolm.

MIYAZAWA: And I’m Alice!

PACE and MIYAZAWA: Bye!

Dr. Medes is a sweet old man. He’s on the stout side, hair and beard gone completely white, arms freckled with liver spots and eyes starting to get that watery blue line around the irises.

He gives extra credit often, grades forgivingly, loves talking about circles, and throws Dum-Dum lollipops at volunteers even if they get the answer wrong. Stats is a shitty class but Dr. Medes makes it a bit better.

Except, when Luke walks in on an unassuming Monday, there’s a crowd of kids pushing around at the back board. Some look happy when they walk away but most…. Well, they aren’t too pleased.

He jostles his way through his classmates. The fight to see what’s on the board is all sharp elbows and yelps from stubbed toes. Luke’s pretty sure that there’ll be a bruise blooming on his side by the end of it.

It’s a spreadsheet. Big black letters line the top, all bold and all capitalized:

AP STATS FALL FINAL PROJECT PARTNERS

Fuck. Luke’s eyes scroll down the sheet, scanning the bars for his name. He finds it, sweep his eyes to the adjacent box. Double fuck.

Your name in black, 12px, Arial font grins back at him tauntingly.

Luke curses Dr. Medes and the randomizer from Google that he always uses. Triple fuck, because there’s a warmth at his back and you slide into the edge of his periphery.

You notice him, head turning in slow-motion, mouth coming down to solidify into the grimace of the year. He wants to run away but the frown lines arrowing in your skin keep him captive.

“Hi partner.” The boy manages a little wave, a sharp grin. It’s as genuine as he can get without encountering the nervous fear of you punching him.

Tire-flat, “Castellan.”

“So,” he draws out the vowel and juts his thumb at a pair of desks the corner, “let’s talk about it.”

He knows he has a steady voice. He controls his breaths well, speaks carefully, slowly, with purpose. Luke thinks you’re about to fall asleep by the time he’s asking if you have time after school to iron out the details. The question snaps you out of your reverie.

“Er,” you blink a few times, groggy. “I’m free until I have to show up for drills.”

He hums, nods. “So from after sixth period to five, right?”

“Yea.”

( Why did he remember your practice time? Now he feels weird. )

He types a reminder into his phone and shuts it off, sliding the device into his pocket casually.

The words come out without thinking, “How do you feel about my house?”

What the fuck was that. Luke’s panicking; you’re barely cordial with each other—hell, you hate him and he’s pretty sure that he feels the same—and he just invited you to the most intimate place of his life.

“Excuse me?”

Luke tries the best he can to salvage this. “I mean—like, for work. It’s just a block away, and I have the stuff we need to make the presentation.”

Please say no, please say no, please say no.

“Oh, yea, just—” your eyes go out of focus as you think “—well, I guess I could.”

Very strained, molars practically dust, “Great. I’ll text my mom and let her know.”

The voice in his skull is banging at his bones and shrieking FUCKING KILL ME ALREADY. He pulls out his phone again to shoot a frenzied text to his mom as soon as you turn away to work on something else.

TO: mom

(11:26) mom plz i swear ill do all the dishes n put them away scrub the toilet find u hmart coupons n drive u there ANYTHING U ASK just PLZ can u get poster board and markers b4 i come home 🙏🙏

(11:26) for stats its a project. my partners coming over too

FROM: mom

(11:30) Ok. You better keep the HMart promise lol 🤣

“All good?” you question, zipping up your backpack. There’s a gleam of curiosity hiding under the hood of your eyelids; the sight of it makes something cold slither down his spine. Like you want to slice him open and eat his secrets alive.

The bell rings.

“Yea. Just fine.”

( It’s really not. He goes to the restroom straight after, splashes his face, and zones out in front of the mirror as the water dries. )

TO: silena 🎀

(11:32) what would u do if u accidentally invited the person who reciprocates ur hate for them to ur house for a project that u had to sell ur soul to ur mom to get the supplies for

FROM: silena 🎀

(11:40) LMFAOOO R U TWEAKING 😝 (11:41) oh wait is it the drum major… (11:41) ask whether if beckendorfs taken for me pls 😘

TO: silena 🎀

(11:43) WHAT THE HELL BRU 😭😭😭

FROM: silena 🎀

(11:44) what can i say, im an opportunist at heart 🩷

TO: silena 🎀

(11:46) boooooooo 🗣️🗣️

Luke flies by the seat of his pants. It’s a good quality, especially when plans don’t work out on the field. But because his quality of being impetuous benefits him in one way, it must be unbeneficial in an another scenario. There must be balance in life, and now is no exception, to much of his chagrin. Exhibit one: his mom has now whisked you away onto the couch and—good lord, she’s pulling out his baby album from under the coffee table.

He suppresses his shriek of mortification to a pathetic squeak as you turn a page and see a grainy photo of little him—cheeks flushed, hair long, curls loose, a pair of garish upside-down sunglasses with gold frames sliding down his nose.

“He loved swimming when he was little,” is what his mom is telling you. “We used to go to the beach almost twice a month.”

“How cute.”

Your eyes are shining with mirth and something evil. Luke wonders if he could walk right back outside and scream at the sky.

“Mom,” he ekes out, strained. “We need to work on our project.”

May Castellan does a little thing with her eyebrows, mouth pressing into a thin line and eyes scrutinizing.

“Okay,” she says after a moment of thought. Her voice sounds small but Luke knows that his mother is anything but with that devious glimmer in her eyes. “Make sure to leave your door open.”

Luke thinks that you almost choke. He feels a prickling sensation burn all the way up his back, face warming up. “Mom….”

The woman hums absently, looks straight into his eyes with an innocuous lift of her brows.

“What?”

You ease off the couch and excuse yourself to the bathroom, wandering down the hallway. Luke immediately erupts into a furiously hushed whisper.

“Mom, we’re not like that.”

“But I think your partner is a good kid. Very sweet.” His mother put extra stress on ‘partner’, even throwing in a very obvious wink that she tries to play off as an unbalanced blink. Oh, if only Luke could stop getting embarrassed by the people in his life.

“Bro….”

“Who? I am your mother, I gave birth and raised you, bro.”

Luke bows his head like a kicked puppy. “Sorry, mom.”

She bobs her head side to side, skeptical. “Mhm, be a good host and show your guest to the bathroom.”

Luke pads away, floorboards squeaking under his socks. He finds you leaning straight-faced against the door to his bedroom, the Sesame Street-themed sign with his name on it pinned into the wood behind your shoulder.

“Not a word,” he hisses, stepping forward to reach for the knob. Like always, he regretfully acts before he thinks, subsequently caging you between the wall and himself.

You make a face, half-bewildered and all-disgusted. “Yea, like everyone wants to know about your ugly baby photos.”

The parts of Luke’s neck hidden under his hoodie flush. You’re so close that he can feel your words rattling in his nerves, as if you’re speaking right into his skin. He twists the knob quickly and skitters into his room.

You step in without another word, scanning his things. Luke kisses his teeth; he should’ve asked his mom to hide everything in the closet too because there’s a grin creeping into your mouth the longer you look around.

“Didn’t know you were a nerd, Castellan.”

He represses the urge to sweep the toy race cars off the topmost shelf and rip the blueprint posters off the wall. Burn the baby blue duvet on his bed with the Ferrari logo stitched in the corner, he doesn’t care—anything to save himself from the embarrassment.

You pick up a mini Mercedes from the shelf, turn it in your fingers, and set it back down wordlessly. Luke wants to kiss the feet of whoever controls his luck that you don’t insult him further.

“I, uh,” he manages, strained, “I’m gonna get the materials.”

You hum noncommittally and turn to read the white text on his Blueprint of an F1 Car poster. Luke skitters away, grabbing the poster board and marker box at lightning speed.

His mom gives him a weird look—brows raised and mouth pinched—as he sprints back.

Luke decides along the way that you aren’t so bad, because—well, you let him choose the topic of the project to be motorsports.

FROM: silena 🎀

(16:28) did u ask abt beckendorf 🩷

TO: silena 🎀

(16:30) girl bffr how can i do that if i cant be social w haters

FROM: silena 🎀

(16:30) www.wikihow.com/how2talk2urcrush (16:31) hope this helps 😊😘

TO: silena 🎀

(16:31) WHAT THE FUKC

Luke forgot one crucial thing in his panic: you’re in Heralds under his father. He’s lettering the topic of your presentation on the board when he hears the front door snick. His marker nearly slips.

“Uh—” you snap your gaze up as Luke’s mouth begins to open and close like a fish, fumbling for the words “—don’t you have to go to practice?”

You regard him momentarily before squinting at the screen of your school-issued laptop. “In half an hour.”

Luke thinks, just rip off the band aid.

“I’m gonna try to say this really nicely, but my dad just got home and I need you out of my house before it gets awkward.”

You don’t take offence, shutting the computer and squeezing your hunched shoulders back. “Thank fucking god, I’m free.”

“Luke!” His mom’s voice is faint, somewhere far-off in another part of his house. “Does your friend want a snack? Maybe dinner before practice?”

And then, “Luke brought someone over?”

He doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry at the sound of his father’s voice, but he definitely wants to die when his mom mentions you by name.

Luke watches the light leave your eyes when you listen closely to the footsteps padding along the floorboards.

“Sergeant, I didn’t know you were in the same class as Luke.”

You notably do not correct sergeant to major.

“Sir, hi,” you say, visibly cringing at the sight of his father standing awkwardly in the doorframe. “I’m actually just leaving.”

“Nonsense!” His dad smiles at you easily, envy digging between the rungs of Luke’s ribs. “Why don’t you stay for dinner?”

Luke jumps in, “Band practice.” And he really doesn’t mean for it to come out as disrespectful as it did, but when the man he’s wanted the most approval from gives it readily to you, the person who hates him most…well.

“Oh. How was your day, Luke?”

“Fine,” he grits, standing up quickly despite the way it makes his head spin. You get up too, patting at the imaginary dust on your pants.

His dad smiles at you again with his eyes twinkling, and when you walk past the doorway, he pats your shoulder fondly.

“Luke can walk you back.”

The both of you look at the older man, bewildered.

“What the hell?”

“Sir, that’s alright, I really don’t need an escort.”

May Castellan calls from that far-off place in the house. “Luke? Please walk your friend back, it’ll get dark soon.”

Luke uses his sweetest, mommy’s-dearest-boy voice while looking his dad dead in the eye. “Okay. You need anything else?”

“Just come back safe, baby.”

“Okay, love you.”

You look out of place, fingers wrapped around the straps of your backpack, tongue poking at your cheek. Luke cautiously puts his hand between your shoulders and steers you towards the door.

The both of you skitter out before anything else goes downhill, sharing a sigh of relief.

“So,” Luke starts once you’re halfway down the street. The toes of his sneakers catch in the concrete gaps, cushioned by the weeds growing from them. “Is Beckendorf single?”

You whip your head around, a small part to your mouth and eyes narrowing.

“Asking for a friend,” he adds quickly. “My girlfriend, actually. I mean, not my girlfriend, just my best friend who happens to be a girl.”

“He’s single, alright,” you admit after a moment of pause, hands hanging heavy in your pockets. “But he’s got his eyes set on someone already. Who’s your friend?”

Luke’s mouth twists. Should he really tell you? From what he knows, band kids are vicious with gossip. What if Silena’s senior year got ruined because of him?

You speak again, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Are you dating Silena, by the way?”

He’s quick to answer. “No, she’s my best friend.”

“Mhm.” You nod, deep in thought. “So she likes Charles.”

Fucking hell, Luke’s stupid. So, so, so fucking stupid. Now you know Silena’s biggest secret because he’s got a big fucking mouth and acts before his brain can fucking think and—

“You wanna get them together?”

He blinks, nearly tripping over an uplifted slab of sidewalk. “Huh?”

“They probably both think that the other is dating one of us…so.”

Luke never learns from his mistakes. “So, what? We pretend to kiss so they can get over themselves and do the same?”

Loose fucking cannon, you, goes the voice trapped in his skull, can’t ever keep your damn mouth shut when you need it to be.

“I mean,” you mutter, eyes cast onto the ground, sheepish with the way you begin to palm at your neck. He wonders if parts of you also itch and flush when you’re with him. “Never mind, that’s stupid. We’re just setting them up, there’s no need to do all that extra shit.”

Luke laughs, embarrassment creeping in hot. “Yea, sorry. That’s just insane, like—”

“—something out of a movie, I know.” You’re laughing with him too, mouth stretching wide and smile lines digging into your skin. He kind of gets why you’re his dad’s favorite now—you’re both similar in humor and expression.

He quells the thing in his stomach that continues to grow the longer he stares at your smile lines. “Okay, so obviously just pushing them towards each other, and it’ll happen naturally.”

You nod. “And after we’ll just go back to hating each other, yea? There’s no need to pretend.”

“But why do you hate me?” Luke loathes how involuntary his speech has become. People don’t just ask why others hate them. For the nth time that day, he wishes to crawl into a hole and—

“It’s not really you, I just have a vendetta against the football team in general. And I guess I felt pressured to hate you specifically ‘cause that’s what everyone expects, y’know?”

Oh, okay.

He starts—voluntarily, this time, because you deserve to know the same, “I don’t like you because of my dad.”

( Well, it was what he wanted to say, but not exactly how he wanted to say it. )

“You’re like, his perfect successor,” Luke continues, pushes on like he always does with every unfortunate mishap that befalls him. “I thought I could make him happy by doing my own thing. He wanted a track star for his team and I became football captain. And to really rub it in, I used his camera and got into yearbook instead of Heralds. Did you know he has beef with Ares and Clio?”

You shake your head, incredulous. The both of you have stopped moving, feet coming to a standstill on the broken sidewalk.

“That’s a dick move.”

He shrugs, a small smile gracing his face. “I know, it’s kinda too much, even if I was pissed. But looking back, I guess I’m happy with where I’m at.”

“I think that matters a lot more than your dad’s approval,” you tell him sagely.

“Yea,” Luke agrees, the toe of his sneakers leaving an indent in the gravel. “So we’re good, right? Friends?”

Your face pinches, mouth going sour and a little tender. “I wouldn’t go that far. I still hate grossly overrated sports.”

“Yea, and I hate writing in Associated Press.”

Your mouth tilts in an almost-smile, backlit pink by the horizon. It’s far enough into the year that the sun starts setting at five, and it’s chilly too, breaths starts to wisp.

You nod you head awkwardly in the direction of the school—he didn’t even realize that you’ve walked this far already.

“See you around, Castellan.”

[ VIDEO: a clip of someone’s living room decked out in festive lights. A group of rowdy teens are clumped together on the floor, a few older kids on the couches. The film is shaky and so is the audio, but the teens are clearly rapping—badly—along to Hamilton, which is playing on the TV.

The camera briefly zooms in on you and Charles sitting next to each other on the couch, you closing your eyes, knees slung over his thighs while he belts along to the singing portions of the song. The view then flips over to show Travis as the cameraman, tears in his eyes, a sugar-rush flush to his face before the video ends. ]

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travstole gna miss my favorite seniors 😞

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majmajmaj what happens at the semester end party STAYS AT THE SEMESTER END PARTY

perciusjakcsn GTFO THIS IS ACTUALLY WATERGATE FOR BAND 😭👎

conmanstole if i can prove that i never touched my balls 🗣️🗣️‼️‼️

↳ travstole can u promise not to tell another soul whatchu saw 🫵😩😰

“I need your number,” you tell him on the last day of finals, to a backdrop of students rushing out of class. He doesn’t know how you found him right after fifth period, but he doesn’t dare question. “I forgot to get it when we were working on the project.”

Luke only has the pen he used to fill out his physics exam, so he takes your hand gently and scrawls the digits onto your palm. It’s a little hard to read, kind of—very—smudged, but it works.

“See you after break?” he offers, clipping the pen onto the collar of his soft sweatshirt. Luke fidgets the longer you look at him, scratching at the stubble he missed during his morning shave, readjusting his computer glasses.

“Obviously,” you tell him after a lifetime—really just a split second—of deliberation. “Don’t forget.”

“I couldn’t if I wanted to.”

You raise your brows just slightly, a little furrow forming in your skin. There’s a small tilt to your mouth, almost disbelieving, skeptical.

“Congrats on MVP, by the way,” you tell him just as he’s about to awkwardly step away. “That was a better season than I expected.”

“Really?” He grins; his face nearly hurts from the force of it.

“Football’s still ass.” You shrug and step back, thumbs looped in the straps of your backpack. “Don’t go too far. I’m expecting an assignment on volleyball soon.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Luke feels so stupid when you give him a sardonic little grin in return, head beginning to pound at a hundred kilometers an hour.

( And then he remembers that he’s American and doesn’t actually know what the fuck a kilometer is outside of physics. See? He’s decidedly bam-fucking-boozled. )

The bell for the sixth period final rings, and he’s snapped out of it, realizing that he’s standing dumbly in the courtyard. He’s in sports—he doesn’t have a sixth because that’s the period reserved for practice, which he doesn’t have.

When he comes home to kickstart winter break, Luke actually—albeit curtly—greets his dad.

[ IMAGE: a screenshot of a DM. On the left side of the chat, two messages that read:

wild guess but maybe luke likes the band kid that everyone calls sarge or smth i saw them walking together after school and they met up when finals was over

anon pls

The right side of the chat has a message with one shocked emoji and a thumbs up. ]

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centaurs.confess movie plot ahh rumor 💀

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drewtanka ONG?? 😦😦

naka.ethan bruh i’m reporting this for misinformation on behalf of marching band as a whole #CASTELLANSUCKSASS

↳ damienwit #CASTELLANSUCKSASS ↳ travstole thats my cousin ur talking abt do it again #CASTELLANSUCKSASS

FROM: silena 🎀

(18:52) so i find out thru insta huh. ur so fake lucas castellan 🖕

TO: silena 🎀

(18:53) woahh those r some wild accusations silena beauregard (18:53) and thats not even the name on my birth certificate. its just luke.

FROM: silena 🎀

(18:54) how does it feel to be the most hated man at school #CASTELLANSUCKSASS 🎙️

TO: silena 🎀

(19:00) in a student body full of neanderthals thats a fucking badge of honor

FROM: silena 🎀

(19:01) what about the rumors abt ur crush on ur dads fav editor in chief 🎙️

TO: silena 🎀

(19:01) STFUU WHO SAID THAT EW 😨 (19:01) we legit hate each other idk what ur talking about. anything else u heard is misinformation bruh it was just a project

FROM: silena 🎀

(19:02) yall hear smth?? (20:00) SMH LEFT ON READ. BESTIE PRIVILEGES RE FUCKING VOKED.

p.s. ★ on the topic of #CASTELLANSUCKSASS - this is purely a work of fiction, and although this is based on real things that teenagers do, it is never funny to cyberbully people. if u are being cyberbullied, report, block, and tell someone who can help, like a counselor or trusted adult (also dont forget to have screenshots as evidence), and if u are someone who cyberbullies others, gtfo of my blog bc ur not welcome.

sharing is caring, so pls rb and also lmk ur thoughts ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ᡣ𐭩

luke tags (open); @melllinaa @amortencjja @arsonnaire @ma1dita @m00ng4z3r @saltair-and-palemoonlight @witch-lemon @ahh-chickens @spiderbeam @jennapancake @traumatrios @omg--bluexx @dangelnleif @lukecastellandefender @apolloscastellan

© klineinie 2024 — do not plagiarize, translate, or use ANY works to train ai

bitter to the taste; luke castellan

series masterlist

wc + pairing: 5.5k, luke castellan x f!reader

synopsis: a sharp blade, a black eye, and (more than) two kisses.

warnings: this is even sluttier than the last one, language, sword fighting, sharp objects, blood/injuries, reader is still a horrible person and so is luke but he's also a loooser, making out, allusions/mentions of sex but no super explicit descriptions, kind of fluffy at the end

notes: i’m starting to hate this bc i think i’ve been staring at it too long sorry if this is not as good as pt.1 but i have plans for this series ok. also READER AND LUKE ARE NOT GOOD PEOPLE!!! THEIR RELATIONSHIP WILL NOT ALWAYS BE GOOD!!! THEY SUCK!! they are also not real but keep that in mind :) synopsis inspired by crush by ethel cain; designated song for this fic is unpunishable by ethel cain (i’ve got a whole chronological playlist for these freaks like it’s serious)

You’ve always had a taste for violence. And an equally powerful penchant for sloth. 

You prefer to watch the carnage, not participate. It satisfies something inside you that you know, if it wasn’t for your laziness, could cause something irrevocable. Who the hell has time for that?. You’d rather lie back and watch instead.

This flaw of yours is the only reason you haven’t stirred more trouble, you think. It’s the reason you never attend camp games or sparring lessons. Sometimes, when you do, a dark muscle flexes inside your heart to curl out of its slumber, forming a hunger you don’t have otherwise. The second it starts to pry you have to rear yourself back and tuck the monster in. Banish the need for something more.

You don’t want to feed it. You don’t know what happens if you do. So you let other people do the feeding for you.

Luke cuts through two dummy heads in one swoop. It’s fucking gorgeous. The moon reflects off his sword, a silver sheen casting his face when he’s in the right spot. His brows are set, eyes so dark they blend with the night. Every motion is ruthless. Satisfying. 

You don’t know how many times you’ve watched him like this. He called you out for it last night, but you’re sure he doesn’t know the half of it. The shadows are a sacred cloak to you, and you wait inside them until you want your presence known. 

Meet me tomorrow. 

It runs through your head like a broken record. You can still feel his breath on your lips and your neck is still tender—had to wear a sweater in the blazing heat to hide the marks. Since you were created you’ve accepted a universal truth about yourself: you don’t harbour affection for anyone or anything. There’s not a single thing you’ve felt drawn to or protective over but yourself. It’s solitary, yes, and lonely, yes, but that’s the way you’re supposed to be. 

But you think about last night. You think about the moments between the kisses and the rush. When he teased you against your ear. When his hand brushed a certain spot on your back and something much lighter fluttered inside of you. When you crawled into sleep and thought about him, those were the moments that struck you the strangest. 

His gaze pans over the treeline every once in a while, the anger diluted. Then it comes back twice as hard as he shreds another dummy to pieces. 

He’s waiting for you. Oh, this is rich! A better person would probably turn around and go spoon their offerings into the bonfire the second they understand what they’re doing is incredibly destructive. But who are we kidding? You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. 

So you take a step forward, slip out of the comfort of the dark, and the next time he looks to the treeline he knows you’re there. He can’t see you, but he knows. 

You wait. His strikes are less tenuous, much smoother. It almost makes you laugh. Some fucking showman he is. 

Eventually, he buries his blade in the dirt and wipes his brow. “Are you gonna come talk to me or are you gonna stare at me all night like an owl?”

You relish in the feeling of shedding the darkness, coming into the light of the moon. “Hi,” you say flatly, but there’s a tiny smile on his face when he sees you that almost puts you off. 

“Hello, rotten.” He tries to lean on the hilt of his sword but it isn’t quite tall enough so he stumbles. It’s so pathetic it almost makes you laugh. 

“Don’t call me that,” you grimace.

“Okay, back to heathen?”

“Don’t call me that either.”

“Well, you don’t seem too happy when people call you by your name so pick your poison here.” 

You don’t say anything, your mouth set in a scowl. “All right, both it is,” Luke shrugs.

He’s different from last night. Less impatient. You hope it’s not because he thinks he has you now—he’s got another thing coming. “I almost thought you weren’t gonna come,” he says with a crooked grin, neither bashful nor ashamed. 

You’ve made your way closer to him, the soft grass turning to dusty earth. “Don’t know why I did,” you mutter crassly. 

Having abandoned his sword, Luke chuckles wryly. “Yes, you do.”

That bitterness he hides from everyone else pierces through. He tilts your face up like he did yesterday, the press of his fingers beneath your chin almost burning you. You know he’s peering at the marks on your neck. 

“If you made me come here just to hook up with me you’re delusional,” you glare. 

“What, like that’s not why you’re here?” He pushes your face up a little higher, grinning a little when you add resistance. “I’m a gentleman, you know. I can be patient.”

This guy is full of fucking shit.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you snipe. The only point of contact you have is his hand on your chin, but you’re a hair’s breadth away from having everything else. The air drifting between you is almost palpable, shrinking smaller and smaller like it’s terrified of being trapped between you.

He keeps your face still. He’s studying you, and you’re suddenly curious about what he sees. You remember all those looks you’d share at the dinner tables that made this happen in the first place. What did he see then? 

“You wanna fight?”

It takes you a second to react. “What?”

“You want to fight. Pick up a sword, let’s go.” He smiles as he finally lets you go, waltzing away from you to unbury his sword from the dirt. His touch permeates through your skin and you hate it. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I can’t fight.”

“Sure you can,” he replies, grabbing another sword from the training rack. “You need to burn off a little steam.”

You laugh sharply. “And you think me waving a sword around is gonna do that?”

“Uh, yeah,” he grins. “It’s the method that lets us keep the most clothes on.” 

You glare at him. His smirk is a mile wide. The way your stomach is simmering almost makes you sick; it’s like gorging yourself on candy except this time the candy has a sword and maybe wants to fuck you. 

You just watch as he hands you his sword, and the moonlight glinting off the metal has you believing it’s not the kind used for training. “I’ll use the dull one,” he assures. “C’mon, heathen. I know you’ve used a sword before, they force us to.”

“I usually skip those classes.”

He laughs. You can’t tell if it’s at you or with you. “Of course you do.”

You don’t like following orders, but oh, what the hell. Luke knows something about you, just like you know something about him. You’re only a little curious about it. 

“Straighten your back,” is the first thing he says once you’ve taken your stance across from him. The blunt of his sword reaches out to tap your hip. 

You begrudgingly do as you’re told. He watches you mirthfully, and the press of his sword against you starts to feel like a substitute for his hand. All the closeness you’re hungry for, dampened by cold steel. It still makes you buzz. 

He gives you the barebones—the right grip, how to maneuver, the proper balance. But long gone is his easy disposition. The motor inside him that powered all those dummy beheadings and disembowelments is running again, except this time it’s for you. He wants a fight. This is his battlefield. All right, you’ll bite.

You start to spar with the skill of an overgrown toddler. The sword feels like an unnatural ligament hanging off your body. Luke is precise, convicting, far more enthusiastic than you. “You can do better than that,” he prods after your swords clash lazily for the billionth time. “Stop going easy.”

“You’re going easy,” you shoot back. 

“Yeah, but I’d really rather not. Come on.” 

There’s a moment of hesitation. You think about that dark thing you keep harboured. A muscle aching to be used. 

“Come on,” he says again, and he almost sounds pissed. “All of a sudden you’re playing nice? What are you afraid of?”

Something flares inside you. “Nothing!”

“Then pick up the sword and fight me.”

You huff and roll your eyes, but your next swing is far more inspired. Luke blocks it easily, but you don’t care. “There we go,” he nods. “Again.”

This is more than you bargained for when you decided to come see him. All you want is to make out with this hot, awful person and have him tell you hot, awful things about yourself you probably already know. Why do you have to fight to get it? 

He keeps provoking you no matter how hard you try. Your temper picks up the more you swing, discordant clangs bruising the air, but it’s still not enough. Luke doesn’t let up. Of course the one time you try to be nice, you’re not allowed to. On second thought, why are you reigning yourself in for Luke? The only other person in camp with a real, consuming viciousness? If anything you should hit him twice as hard, since he’s so sure he can take it. 

“No wonder you’re so angry all the time,” Luke heaves out, and it gives you a swell of satisfaction. “You don’t have a proper outlet. Maybe you’d be nicer if you didn’t sit around and complain all day.”

“Shut up,” you gnash your teeth. 

“Just saying, maybe you should do something about it.”

You’re getting lost in the rhythm of the swords, the adrenaline, the sweat passing the scar on his cheek. Every swing you think less and less, and that dark muscle flexes more and more. It feels like home to you. Like a good meal. Your bones ache and the world has darkened, but that rotten pit inside you cracks open in full bloom. 

Luke keeps egging you on but you can’t hear him. Not like he still needs to. You think you’re smiling, or huffing furiously, or both. The sharpness of the sword intrigues you. A million terrible things reflect off its blade and you imagine them, all at once, until you are out of your body and the black hole inside you has properly wedged itself open. 

Luke jabs at you and you bring your sword down with a vengeance. But it’s a little too low. You only notice when he drops his weapon to the side and staggers back.

The fog of violence falters. It fades almost completely when he hisses long and hard, eyes screwed shut, and you see the tear in his shirt. In his skin. 

“Shit,” you say. “Fuck.”

You don’t sound sorry, you don’t think you are sorry, especially when he laughs. It’s a wheezy one through his teeth as you come up to him, but a laugh nonetheless. “Knew you were going easy,” he remarks through a wince. 

You ignore him, looking down at the injury. A  gash across his abdomen. It’s bleeding a little, but not enough for it to drip. You did that. Just looking at the blood, you feel the bitter taste of it in your mouth, the reward a temporary hunger for carnage brought you. This is why you don’t play camp games. 

“I’ve got thick skin. I’m fine,” Luke says casually. “I’ve got a medical kit under that tree over there in case I beat myself up too bad.” He’s no longer scrunched in pain, and you’ve got a feeling he’s telling the truth. So you go fetch the kit where he said it was. You need to wrap that slash. Not because you’re sorry for him, but because looking at it makes you angry. 

You kneel and pop the lid of the small tin kit, covered in dirt. It’s mostly gauze and bandages. Rubbing alcohol too. “Just give me the gauze, that’s all I need,” Luke gestures. 

“Shut the fuck up, I’m doing it myself.” You’ve already torn off some gauze, sitting all the way up on your knees. 

“Most people just say sorry.”

“You pushed me,” you spit back, surprisingly forceful. Luke’s smile drops. You take a deep breath, adjusting yourself to get eye level with the injury. “I told you I don’t fight.”

You’re not sure what makes Luke give in, but he doesn’t say a word as you lift the hem of his torn shirt and he holds it up. There’s no proud remark about your eyes lingering on his stomach, or the hesitation in your hands. You stare at the wound. It really is shallow. Your thumb presses at the skin around it and he winces. “My bad,” you mutter. 

As you sterilize the cut and wrap the gauze around his torso, you try not to let your fingertips cling to the warmth on his skin. You try not to notice the other scars littered there, most faded to the point they should be impossible to pick up even in the sun. It’s obvious he’s staring at you. Your neck is crawling with warmth. But you don’t engage, you just wrap the gauze a few times and do your best not to notice the rise and fall beneath his muscles as he breathes. Then you fasten things neatly and put everything away so you can get up. Any second. Come on. 

“Good?” You ask instead, exhaling. 

“Good,” he affirms. He slides a hand under your forearm and gets you up. It stays there once you’re standing. The night stills. 

“I’m guessing you’re adding ‘attempted killer’ to your list of horrible qualities,” you go on to break the silence.

He holds your gaze unyieldingly. “I’d consider that a pro, actually.” 

You are entirely fed up with this drawn out evening, but you can’t bring yourself to speed anything up any more than stepping closer so your chests brush. “I will give you one, though,” he continues, craning down to your ear. You smell his skin and it sends you back to the position you were in yesterday. 

He finally kisses your jaw, just once, then your neck. You shiver. “You’re too tense.” Another kiss behind your ear. It’s not enough. “Do you even know how to have fun?”

“I don’t want to have fun,” you reply bitterly. I just want to make out with you, asshat.

Luke’s breath frosts over your face when he chuckles, but before he can get any further away you catch his mouth with yours. Almost instinctively his arm winds around you to pull you in closer, your hand looping through his curls. It's a relief, knowing last night wasn't some freak accident. This does feel good, actually, and it can happen. Everything you felt yesterday is only more urgent now, hungrier, and you're pretty sure the way you kiss him gives that away.

He indulges you, squeezing the base of your hips as his other hand thumbs across the marks on your neck. This is so fucking embarassing—you think you whine when he bites down on your bottom lip. You’ve never needed something this bad, you’ve never needed anything. But you press yourself as close to him as you can manage and his hand runs lower, slips against your inner thighs, and it’s difficult to worry about anything else. 

Until he pulls away. Like a dick. 

He doesn’t go far, his forehead pressed to yours, but you feel like pulling out all his hair. It’s a muddling mix of frustration and longing you’re starting to associate with him. “Dude,” you groan, an inner coil only starting to unwind begrudgingly compressing. 

“Let’s go for a swim,” he says. The enthusiasm is almost alarming. Almost makes him look younger.

You’re homicidal. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes, heathen. Let’s go for a swim, come on.”

He’s rubbing circles on your thigh, which only makes you want to strangle him. “But I—I don’t have my bathing suit,” you string out. 

The smile gets more boyish. “Wow, whatever shall we do?”

It’s another challenge. Another dare. And he knows what you want, fucking jerk. You’re going to kill him. 

“Fine,” you grunt, and the second the words leave your lips you’re pulled to the lake. 

It’s a warm, sticky evening, only made worse with the sweat and the half-assed kissing, so the water doesn’t seem all that bad. Unfortunately, you don’t like giving into demands. So you stare ghoulishly at your fingernails as Luke tosses off his ripped shirt and his shorts so he can plunge into the lake. “Aren’t you going to at least come in?” He asks, but you don’t look at him. 

“I don’t like swimming,” you lie. 

“At least your feet. It’s nice, I swear!”

A splash, like smoke moving through wind chimes. You look up and Luke has completely submerged, popping his head up closer to the mouth of the dock. “Please,” he says with such conviction your resolve turns to butter. Gods, what is happening to you? You still need that lobotomy! 

You sigh, roll your eyes, turn your back to him. “Fuck this,” you mutter under your breath. You undress to your undergarments and you’re not sure if you want Luke to be watching or not. The moon touches your bare skin and a chill trickles through you. 

You take a seat at the edge of the dock, knees tucked to your chest. Luke swims over for you right away. His hair is dripping against his skin, and you hate how beautiful it looks. The waterline is high tonight, almost ridiculously so, so he props his elbows up on the dock with no problem. “Come in,” he urges. 

“No.”

“Just your legs?”

“No.”

“Gods, I’ll make it worth it, just throw your damn legs in!” 

Your eyebrows shoot up. His face is stubbornly pink. Oh, so now he wants something. You take your time uncurling yourself and Luke wades away from the dock so you can put your feet in. The water goes up to your calves, and you shiver. “So fucking difficult,” he mutters, and your pulse flickers. 

“Sorry, what was that?” You let yourself grin for the first time all night. 

“Nothing,” he hums. This time when he comes to the dock, he wraps his hands around your calves. You’re pretty sure he can stand here because he stops treading. The warmth of the water seems to spread further, long past the threshold of your knees. 

He rests his chin just above your knee, water pooling on your skin. “Stop dripping on me,” you complain. 

“Sorry.” He fake pouts when he kisses the damp spot. You see, ever so faintly, a diabolic shift in his expression. He nudges your leg with the point of his nose, then kisses it, then starts to move it aside. “Feel bad about teasing you all night,” he murmurs, still with an edge. He presses more kisses on your legs. “I really did want to see you.”

The irony that he’s still teasing is not lost on you. You’re not loving how desperately warm you’re starting to feel. “Why’s that?” You lean back on your palms. 

“You’re a very interesting person,” he quips innocently. His hands are cupping the backs of your calves. He’s pulled you a lot closer to the water, and somehow you’ve just noticed. Another blistering kiss on the inside of your thigh. 

“You’re fucking evil,” you scathe. 

He looks up at you from between your legs. “You have literally done nothing but berate and injure me this whole evening.”

“Yeah, and right after I patch you up you jump in the water for shits. You’re playing infection roulette, Castellan.”

“See? You’re so mean.” He sighs, and in a move that almost surprises you to death, he hoists both your legs over his shoulders and they dangle into the river behind him. “And here I am anyway, making it up to you.”

You are suddenly illuminated on the purpose of this situation. Why Luke is between your legs. Your heart jolts. “Luke, you can’t be serious.” 

“Mmhm.” He leans forward to kiss right under your navel. 

You hate how much you want him to do it again, how your body burns, but you avert your eyes. “Someone’s gonna—someone’s gonna hear us.”

He snorts, “No they won’t. Either this or you come in the water with me. Or both. We’ll see.”

A huge smile cracks across your face before you push it back down. You’re going to spend a lot of time coming back to this moment, this night, wondering why. “What is wrong with you.”

It comes out like a compliment when it leaves you. You want to vanish. Luke chuckles, and something foreign to the both of you buzzes through the air. 

“Are you going to be nice?” He asks against your skin. 

“Are you going to be quick?”

His mouth finds your hip bones and yeah, why the hell would you say no to this? He nods, “Swear.” 

That’s all you need. You let your eyes slide shut and your head tilts towards the sky. Luke takes your permission and runs with it, pries you open with his mouth until the stars soak through the black of your eyelids. 

You discover pretty quickly neither of you are good at keeping promises. 

The next time you need Luke’s med kit, he’s already awake. 

It’s been happening more and more often. You lurking around camp past moonrise and finding Luke outside his cabin, going for a walk or a stretch or a … something with you. 

“Do you ever sleep?” You ask him sometimes between flurries of kisses with your back against a tree. 

“Could ask you the same thing, heathen,” he squeezes your hips and nips at your neck, but never answers the question. And neither do you, so you’re both okay with it. You’d hate to give up this feeling, but he doesn’t need to know that.

This is the first time in your punitive life you have felt alive. Like a person, with bones and flesh and soul, a real presence. Not a ghost of smoke and shadow. You are real. 

Fooling around makes you feel like an actual teenager. You’re young, you remember when Luke joins you in the dark. You’re having fun. His hands under your shirt and his mouth on your collarbone, the way he bites down and winces when you do something a little too well, when you string out his name and he rewards you for it. You’re both greedy, insatiable people, so there’s a push and pull only the two of you would ever be able to handle. And nobody has to know. Despite all the bruises, the sleepless nights, the swollen lips, all you and Luke share in the daylight are noxious looks, and that's only if he can find you. A perfect crime. Camp Half-Blood’s angel and the vice that lives in the shadows. But in the dark, it’s hard to tell which is which. 

“Luke,” you whisper. “Luke.”

“I’m up,” he grumbles, peering up at you. “You shouldn’t sneak into my cabin.” He was already sitting up in his bed when you slipped in, and he didn’t notice you were there till you were right in front of him.

“Worried someone will catch me? You should know better.” 

He follows you outside so you don’t wake the other campers. There’s a thrill knowing just one interaction between the two of you could ruin both your reputations forever. 

“What is it, heathen?” He asks as the door closes behind him. It’s so dark and your back is turned to him, but his voice is drenched in smugness. “You don’t usually want to put up with me more than once a night.”

“Don’t have a choice,” you mutter, staring out at the camp. You go to chew on your bottom lip, but you wince immediately. “Where’s your kit thingy? The one we used after I impaled you.” 

“You mean after you lightly grazed me?” 

“Just tell me where it is, Luke.”

Your sharpness could cut through any sleepy daze he possibly has. He’s silent behind you for a second. “Why?” He asks.

“Because I need it.”

His hand curls around your shoulder and before you can think to submerge yourself in darkness, he turns you around. When he sees you, his face breaks from something proud to something … you’re not sure you like. “Oh, heathen,” he murmurs. “What happened to you?”

You guess it’s a semi-appropriate reaction, although you expected at least a grimace. To put it lightly, your face looks gnarly as fuck. There’s a bruise on your cheekbone and your lip is split. But what really draws attention is the half-formed, garish black eye swelling up your right side. 

“Just the usual. Pissed someone off.” It hurts the skin on your lip that’s caked with blood. 

He rests his thumb on your unbruised cheek, but somehow it still stings. You know he can’t see much of you in the dark but he tries. The prolonged eye contact without the imminent promise of a kiss feels foreign. “You need to go to the Apollo cabin,” he concludes, brows pushed together. 

A laugh slips past your broken lips. “No fucking shot. They would not help me.”

“Why not?”

“Because one of their shit-eaters did this!”

The words take a moment to register. You see them filtering through Luke’s brain. He blinks absurdly. “An Apollo guy beat you up?”

“Not beat up. Just … tussled.”

“How much tussling earns you a black eye, exactly? From Apollo kids.”

“Gods, just tell me where your kit is so you can go back to fucking sleep.”

His fingertips inch around the back of your neck, thumb still against your face. “Already wasn’t sleeping. I might as well help you,” he shrugs. “I move the kit every once in a while so some other campers don’t ravage it.”

“I don’t need help.”

Luke opens his mouth, then sighs deeply. He takes a firm hold of your arm and starts to tug you along. “Hey, what—” you swat at his arm. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffs. “Come on.”

It’s strange. Luke’s never done you a favour before. At least not one like this. You’re disgruntled enough that you had to go ask him in the first place and now he’s dragging you around? “This isn’t such a big deal, Luke,” you badger. “I’m fine.”

“Sure, whatever. Wait right here.” He lets go of you and only then you realize you’re in front of the Apollo cabin. You grimace, and Luke must have noticed because he says, “Don’t worry, I’m just gonna go inside and grab some things. No one’s gonna jump you.”

You scowl at him, and he just laughs. A part of you hopes he hits his head on the way in. You hide anyway. 

It’s a few minutes of waiting in the oppressive summer heat, until Luke emerges from the cabin with his hands full. He looks around, hesitantly calling, “Heathen?” Then again. You move out of your hiding spot and he jogs over to greet you. 

“Nice haul,” you comment. There’s an ice pack, cotton pads, a few miscellaneous items. “How’d you get them?”

He smiles widely. “Everyone loves me, heathen. It’s not hard.”

“…So you stole them.”

“Yes, but only because I’m too tired to talk to people and I’m protesting for your sake,” he rattles off. “Now hold this ice pack before it gives me frostbite.”

The two of you make your way down to the docks again. It’s morphed into your usual meeting place, since the waves lapping at the shore mask when Luke gets a little too noisy just to piss you off. (At least that’s what he tells you.)

He’s stashed his little tin in a different tree this time. After he retrieves it he sets everything out like a chef preparing to make a meal out of gauze and rubbing alcohol. 

Your head has been throbbing for the past few hours. You’re not proud that you antagonized the wrong Apollo kid and got a shiner for it. You’re less proud that you came to Luke for help. Just like everyone else does.

“Come,” he gestures, tugging at the waistband of your pants. You scoot closer to him and swallow the weight of your pulse when he touches you. 

Luke slowly presses the ice pack to your black eye, letting you hold it. “What did you do to earn this, anyway?” He asks, head tilted to the side. 

You’re hissing because of the ice, half-consciously shifting into him. “The usual. Spat at him. Made fun of his daddy a little too much. Tripped him so he landed face-first in his offerings.”

“You did not,” Luke laments as he dots alcohol onto a cotton pad. 

“You’re allowed to say you’re proud of me, Saint Castellan. I won’t tell. You can be mean.” Your voice drips with irony, and you hope it bothers him. The flex in his jaw gives it away. 

“You’re always gonna be meaner,” is all he says back. “This is gonna hurt.”

It’s all the warning he gives before he presses the pad against your lip. The sting envelops you immediately, and your good eye squeezes shut. “Shit, ow!” 

“Stop moving your mouth.”

“Fuck,” you swear anyway. Your lip burns so hard you can feel it in your teeth. 

Luke holds your jaw with his other hand so you can’t shy away. “I’ll kiss it better,” he teases. “Almost done.”

You roll your eyes, but Luke takes the pad off a few moments later. “Serious question. How are you so awful to people all the time?”

A groan tears through your throat with such force your head tilts back. “Not you too! I don’t need a fucking reason, there is no reason. Why doesn’t anyone get that?” 

“I’m not asking why. I’m asking how.”

He’s oddly serious, the caress of his thumb on your cheek far slower. You hate it when people want a reason why you’re like this, just to help them sleep at night. But from the bags lining Luke’s eyes, sleep doesn’t seem to be on his radar. 

“I just don’t care,” you admit, shrugging. “I don’t care about any of them. I don’t care about what they can do to me. I don’t care about anything.”

“…What about the Gods?”

It makes you cock your head. “Huh?”

“You wouldn’t care about them, either?”

You think, but only about which words to use. “No,” you decide, “They don’t scare me. They’re nothing. What are they gonna do to me?”

Luke snorts, almost nervously. “Uh, punish you for saying that, for one.”

You turn back to him, ice pack leaving your eye as you gesture. “How? By killing me? Pecking out my eyeballs? Burning me alive? I’m telling you, I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. It’s all just nothing to me. I’m fucking unpunishable, I’d like to see them try.” 

Huffing, you look back up at the firmament of stars. Luke says nothing. 

The grass rustles as he shifts, and his mouth ghosts over the bruise on your eye. “Unpunishable,” he murmurs, like he’s testing it out. Then he places an uncharacteristically gentle kiss just beneath your eye. And another just above. “We’ll see about that.”

You get that feeling again, the unbearable lightness in a place it shouldn’t be. Mixed with the poison lodged in your heart. 

Luke kisses you, still so delicate that you wonder if he’s been body-snatched. If anything, your bleeding lip feels soothed against his. His hands cradle your face with no ferocity at all. It seems wrong. 

“How do you feel?” He asks after pulling away, dark eyes nebulous and wide. The night usually sharpens his features. Now, they’ve been hushed.

“Um, better,” you reply. 

He hums, laying a slow trail of kisses on your jaw. “Did you at least get the other guy?” He asks between kisses. “Like, did you hurt him?”

“Not really,” you divulge, wondering if you should feel shame. 

“Why?” He’s made his way to your neck now, nudging your jaw up so he can kiss behind your ear. 

“I’m not a fighter.” And, without warning, for a reason you will never, ever be able to explain, your tongue adds, “I’m a killer.”

Your own brows furrow. Luke pauses for a moment, but knocks his nose against your neck. “Guess one of us has to be.”

There’s no more fooling around. No snappy insults, no feverish kisses, no hunger to be satiated. Luke just checks you over a few more times, hides his med kit, and you both get up to sleep. But his hand wraps around your wrist, far less firm than when he dragged you here. “Stay in my bunk, heathen,” he offers. “Leave in the morning.”

You think you’re making a mistake when you agree, but it doesn’t feel like one. 

The next day, after you’ve left Luke’s bunk, rumours float around camp that Luke Castellan accidentally butted some Apollo kid in the face with his sword during training. Caused a bloody, broken nose. Luke was very sorry, apologized profusely. 

But you know, by the way he takes you behind the stables that night, that he didn’t mean a single damn word.

luke taglist: @sunniskyies @apollos-calliope @lillycore @sunny747 @m00ng4z3r @pabkeh @thaliagracesgf @theadventuresofanartist @bonnie-tz

rotten taglist: @thaliagracesgf

leave a pm/comment/ask if you'd like to be added to a taglist :)

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.

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dd/mm/yyyy just means daddy dom/mommy man/yummy yellow yogurt yayyyy thank u for listening

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