#he got away with a ton of stuff

[knightinink]

“Again, with the horn?”

I was thinking about this & something tells me if Fizz used the horn every morning, Ozzie would eventually get used to it & sleep through it. It still works on Ozzie because the horn isn’t the only thing Fizz uses to wake him.

He has various things.

All of them extremely obnoxious, but unapologetically & fittingly Fizz.

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

i have thought of 1 (one) pro to this whole housing situation and i’m clinging onto it for dear life

[waywardsalt]

Have you ever thought about how Linebeck describes Jolene as "crazier than a rabid squid"- only to then be possessed by a literal rabid squid later in the game?

Cause I sure have- especially after seeing a lot of your BellumxLinebeck stuff

mmmmghmm im gonna be honest i haven't thought about it much at all

linking it to my bellum x linebeck thoughts, im not too sure what to make of it in context with my other linebeck notes and w/e

there's also my idea that linebeck has a special interested in shellfish and by extension squids, and the idea of him having a weird thing for bellum, and just... enjoying sealife, and it's kinda of...

he compares her to a rabid squid to link in order to i think... offer a shorthand explanation of what she's like, and i think it (with some other stuff) is kinda just another little peek into how he might feel abt her?

i mean he also compares link to a dog in that one letter? i'm not sure where im going with that one. i dont think linebeck particularly likes dogs

i'm not sure abt the link between that and him getting possessed, jolene is kind of just... there a lot of the time and doesn't really do anything except 1) show that linebeck has enemies and 2) show that people know about link's quest by the end, linebeck generally references sea creatures a few times in ph

relating to bellum x linebeck, i dont see him comparing jolene to a squid an indicator of anything in relation to that, with linebeck having a thing for bellum its more of like. there's a lot of complicated ideas i have with what goes on between them during bellumbeck and bellum being a squid thing is more linebeck having a bit of a monsterfucker streak and having a bit of a thing for like. being tied up. as for literal squids he kinda just likes them as food and to dissect and learn about

like i think 'rabid squid' is more like linebeck just tossing out some derogatory shorthand to explain how he thinks of jolene as some fucking. violent annoyance he has to deal with that he doesn't fully understand

tbh i see the comparison but imo it comes down to a difference in characters and interactions and histories, there is the rabid squid thing (and i think in the manga too theres a vague parallel drawn ig) but im not. sure. what there is there just beyond. linebeck talks about sea creatures and wants to get the fuck away from jolene

i'm not entirely certain what you've been thinking about with that comparison, but i haven't been thinking much about it and it's kinda. eh ig???? its something

[spacebell]

I get so annoyed at my brother sometimes

[imheretoreadafic]

Conversations of various Robins and Batman that the JL has overheard.

Dick as Robin:

Batman: "Don't touch that."

*gets ignored*

Batman (more desperately): "Don't touch that! Robin I'll ground you!"

Robin: *snorts and continues to reach for the very dangerous alien object*

Batman (floundering): "I- Catwoman's out of Arkham! And if you touch that I won't let you see her!"

Robin: *gasps and backs away from it reluctantly* "That's no fair! I wanna see Catwoman and touch the thing!"

Batman, crossing his arms and looking very stern despite the objectively ridiculous situation: "Well, you can only have one of those things."

-

Robin, starting to tear up and sniffle: "B-but I want to help other kids so t-t-they don't lose their mommy and daddy!"

Batman, deadpan: "That's not working on me, kid."

Robin, tears immediately drying up: "Was the mommy and daddy too much?"

Batman: *seesaw hand*

Robin, nodding: "I think I'll keep it to mama and papa - that usually works better."

//

Jason as Robin:

Batman: "Yes, Robin, your English teacher is an idiot when it comes to Shakespeare but that doesn't mean you can egg her car."

Robin: "What about her house?"

Batman: "That's actually worse than egging her car."

Robin: "Sooo, I should be allowed to egg her car because that's better than egging her house!"

Batman: "Should people be allowed to commit assault because that's better than murder?"

Robin, dead panned: "Isn't that literally what we do every night?"

(This one made Flash laugh so hard he pulled a muscle)

-

Robin: "B, I just met Toy Man."

Robin: "Is that REALLY one of Superman's enemies or was that a joke? Please tell me it was a joke. He's like a level two Gotham rogue - his shtick is toys, Batman, TOYS. And I thought the Riddler was stupid."

(Superman tried to defend his honor and was ultimately defeated by the meanest thing to exist - a teenager)

//

Tim as Robin:

Batman: "Robin, explain the voicemail I got from the school."

Robin: "Didn't they already tell you?"

Batman, frowning heavily: "Humor me."

Robin: "My math teacher was being a bitch so I took apart her calculators and hid the pieces around her room and in her stuff."

Batman: "Including her salad."

Robin: "Including her salad AND protein shake."

Batman: "She's could have choked and died!"

Robin: "But she didn't! And anyway in my experience, people are SO much more tolerable when they almost died recently! Take my dad for example-"

-

Batman: "Stop it."

Robin, grinning over his laptop: "I'm not doing anything."

Batman, exasperated: "Don't lie to me! That's your hacking face, Robin."

/

Steph as Robin:

Robin: "It's only glitter!"

Batman: "Three tons of it."

Robin: "... Did i mention that it's biodegradable so it's like totally okay for the environment! See, i DO think ahead sometimes!"

Batman, mumbling: "Maybe I should start putting glitter on your case files so you'll focus..."

-

Robin: "It's because I'm a girl isn't it?"

Batman: "Me telling you to stop putting sprinkles on your pasta is completely unrelated to your gender."

Robin, taking a bite of her pasta monstrosity and pointing the fork in his direction: "Misogynist!"

/

Damian as Robin:

Robin: "But i only THREATENED to stab him. I didn’t actually stab him."

Batman: "..."

Batman: "That's definitely progress but still-"

-

Robin: *cape starts to make a hissing sound*

Batman: "Robin.... What is in there?"

Robin: ".... Her name is Daffodil."

Batman, growing dread in his voice: "And what exactly is Daffodil?"

Robin, without misisng a beat and completely serious: "A beautiful young lady."

[iris-of-the-eye]

YOU!! YOU GET IT!!

Y'all draw Eric Delano too normal. The dude said that Mary Keay was "beautiful, but like a shark was beautiful" and that she tasted like blood and he fucking MARRIED HER. So he either didn't mind or was ACTIVELY INTO IT. The dude was freaky.

[yurilvr4]

nerd armin hc's! art by musapylsa on tt/twt

cw for implied public sex, lots of biting, + tongue piercing, somnophilia(nsfw)

-

the type of guy to wait when your classes are over. he would loiter in the hallways , the jocks and popular kids brushing past him as he fixes his glasses, holding science books to his chest as he fiddled with his phone - checking your schedule.

he's a creeper, a stalker. as far as you were concerned, you always saw him hangout with his two friends, eren, mikasa and some other folks, jean..sasha?...connor? wait no, connie!

you would sometimes catch him staring way too long, eyes always on you and when you finally notice, he would blink and fix his glasses, a knuckle raising to arrange it on his face.

he would "accidentally" drop something on the ground if he was ever randomly beside you, and he knows how nice of a person you are, so you pick up whatever he dropped and he just smiles inwardly, checking you out from the back with zero to no shame.

the type to literally take pictures of you secretly and masturbate the fuck out of them the moment he's home.

"o...ohh...ahnn.." his hand fists his cock aggressively, throwing his head back as he whimpers, thighs shaking as he finally comes down, cum dribbling down his fingers.

-

another thing about him is he owns porn magazines, he stashes them away under his bed and fantasizes all the girls on the pages are you.

he would full on hump the covers, his pillow just to imagine some type of body underneath his, squeezing and moaning like a dog in heat, his brain can only think of one thing and that's you.

other times when he's not ejaculating, he talks about you to his other online friends when he games.

"they're so...h-hot..like.." he says in the microphone, grinning ear to ear as he talks about you in excruciating detail.

the guys on the other side would either cheer him on or snicker at his desperation, "woah..dude, did you like, jack off to them or something??" typical. they wouldn't get it.

"s-something like that." armin bites his lip, finishing the game and logging off.

obsessive crush behavior

this man is always on his phone/laptop so for sure he's got some online stalking habits you're not aware of at all.

he analyzes all of your old posts, every story and event you've been to, and even have them memorized in case you ever talked to him.

+ he's probably the type to over intercept basic kindness as 'romantic interest', "they smiled at me! they must want me!"

-

random stuff he does

• compliments you in an awkward, creepy sort of way, "hey....y-your collarbones are pretty.." then he'd mentally face palm thinking about how miserably bad he is at flirting.

• stares at you wayyy too long for any normal person, a hand on his chin as his eyes hyper-analyze your movements, then panics when he gets caught.

• brings up painfully niche hyperfixations and info dump people about it, (comics, anime, gaming) and they would have NO clue what he would be talking about LMFAOO

• does that nervous push glasses thing, how? uses his middle finger to nudge the bridge of his glasses up. he's particularly nervous when you finally speak to him or is around him suddenly.

if you're in a relationship

he's actually ecstatic, finally having you all to himself, that means he could do whatever he wanted right?

he's willing to share and do everything with you, from sharing his clothes, to showering, sleeping in the same bed. all of it.

the type to just touch you all over. hugs and cuddles you, kisses your neck and bites the same spot he touched with his mouth.

only for you to have tons of red bruises littering your skin the next day.

• doesn't let you go until you really beg him to let you go.

"i won't even be that long... seriously." you say, waiting for a response , only for your boyfriend to glare at you albeit a little pouty.

"...f...fuck. you can't just leave me here, i want your attention too."

he nervously plays with the ends of his sleeves, drawing the cloth over his knuckles and fiddling with it.

sometimes you couldn't help but feel bad, even though there was nothing to feel bad about.

"...fine. i'll stay.. okay?" you nod defeated, reaching out for him to hug his head to your tummy.

he immediately reciprocates, pressing his face into your torso and inhaling deep.

-

sometimes in public, he would drag you to a small spot where he swears no one goes to, and just grinds his body over yours, just to get some friction.

making out with you is his favorite activity, besides fucking the shit outta you at home.

he grinds and grabs your everything, hands all over your ass, squeezing as he bites the inner corner of your neck, sucking the skin until he's satisfied with the new colour.

you feel the cool metal of his piercing lave over your hot skin and you whine for him to stick it in you already.

• WOULD make you suck him off under the seat of his desktop space WHILE gaming.

he's so nasty he doesn't even hide it, "hey?! can i get an assist? cmon!" someone online yells into the microphone , he's pretty skilled with using the keyboard with only one hand, so he easily guides your head with his fingers rooted into your scalp and helps bob your mouth just right until he feels his cock twitch, eventually cumming inside and you have to swallow it.

he tries so hard to hide his little huffs of satisfaction, wryly grinning as he sees your cum painted face under the seat.

-

has this 'habit' he's never told you about.

whenever you would sleep before him in your shared bed , he would climb over you and just go to town. removing each layer of your clothes, and leaves you vulnerable in your underwear, spreads your legs open and makes you cum in your sleep.

you involuntary shiver when you feel his tongue lave over your hole, his fingers playing over where you're most sensitive and coat his tongue in your juices.

'how are you not waking up?' a few sleeping pills dumped into your drink earlier must've did the trick. he wouldn't tell you though, or you'll probably, seriously hate him.

and that was the last thing he wanted. besides..he's got you all to himself now!

-

+ note this fanart literally revived the aot fandom idc i had to write something. link to the art! link 2

[neon-danger]

Oh well. At least it works for you.

It definitely is not for everyone, I am very lucky in that regard.

[akumamazoku]

AD MORTEM CURRERE INFINITUM

please click for quality it helps a ton with the images lol

FINALMENTE i got it done!!!! yayaya! i wanted to add a littleeee flair so i did animate it! originally the chest was supposed to glow too but i accidentally merged those layers… hope this is okay!

extra version:

and translation: AN ENDLESS RUN TOWARD DEATH

yap session below: ignore if u don’t wanna know abt the thought process on this lol

OKAY so! my 1x design changed a little bit, this piece felt a bit more dark so i tried really heavily to go towards dark, ominous colors for 1x, and lean straight into that demonic / skeletal look, rather than the more tree-like one mine is usually meant to look like, and i also tried to make his limbs more armor - like! this is loosely based off of my actual avatar of him, which i’ll add here later. she also wasn’t actually supposed to have her other eye visible (it was going to be a socket/pit instead) but the glowing eye added more contast in so i did it

as for tela, i actually struggled with him a lot! he originally was going to have those mandela catalogue looking eyes, and i was going to animate tjose blinking or glowing (probably both), but i wanted him to blend in a little more, like an omniscient, oppressive sort of background piece, so i dialed it down. he was originally going to have WAY more wings, but again, i wanted 1x to be the star (as she should be lol) and it was already feeling cluttered, so i pushed that away too. it took FOREVER to draw his clothes cause that’s not something im great at, so i hoped that turned out okay lol, he was also originally going to have a SUPER creepy smile but it looked meh so i removed it, also! his halo (sorry it’s missing on the other version, i layered my stuff wrong so it got covered) is meant to be the fire ring in sfoth! i dunno if that’s noticable, but i hope yall like that idea :D

overall im pretty happy with this piece, but it still feels a little muddled/unclear in a lot of places, if that makes sense? it was fun to make regardless, i like drawing these guys! tytyty if u read all the way thru! hope u enjoyed!

edit: the more i look at it the more im starting to dislike it, urghhh… but it’s one of my only finished pieces so i’ll still keep it on here though

WHO REBLOGGED THIS 40 TIMES.... THANKS KING

someone reblogged 61 (i can’t count so probably not) times…. i was not aware this was something you could even do LOL, thanks guys!!!

holy 1k.

[phoenixglacier]

Full disclosure I haven't read this particular arc just yet (it's on my list!) plus tumblr deleted like three paragrahs and I'm grumpy, but I love love love how this is another example of Bruce trying so hard and succeeding in his relationship with Tim. There's a reason why Tim is probably the Robin who believes in Bruce the most (and highkey the only Robin who actually wants to keep Robinning) and it's because of moments like this. Bruce's getting-it-right-moments ratio manages a net positive when it comes to Tim where it questionably doesn't with everyone else.

Because unlike his adopted ones, Tim still saw Robin as a "job" that he could be "fired" from. He can/will/has quit Robin of more-or-less his own volition before. Everyday that he clocks in for his Robin shift is a reassurance to Bruce that he's choosing this, something that Bruce can't easily take for granted if his Robin is someone that depends on him for their entire livelihood.

In return, Bruce tries really hard with Tim and improves upon what relationship skills he had with Dick and Jason. Because Jason showed him what happens if he messes up. Because Dick kept reviewing where he went wrong. Because Tim wasn't the kind of kid to just roll over and take unjust treatment but also was the most starry-eyed and reasonable Robin to ever Robin. Bruce puts down his walls to apologise to Tim, Bruce praises Tim for his work frequently, Bruce hears out his troubles and tries to improve on them — all of these still scarce because Bruce is like that but also very much present throughout their relationship.

And Tim makes it so easy, you know? I'm thinking about Tim negotiating with Bruce doing Young Justice (1998) about telling his friends his secret identity. He communicates with him really well and doesn't let up on how unfair it is, all the while never giving Bruce a hint of a threat that he'll simply disobey him. Bruce bends the rules, and Tim is elated. He respects Bruce to hold the reins, but then he demands a level of respect in return. Because yeah, if Robin is a "job", then Batman is his boss, and he answers to the viligante union and HR department in Tim's head that allows Tim to walk out of this job anytime he wants.

Tim makes it so easy. He walked into the Robin position going quite clearly "You're not telling anyone what you feel but I'm quite certain I can tell. You have relationships in your life that are valuable but are quite clearly fucking up on and that's just a shame and needs to be rectified posthaste. I recognise that you're in charge here but here's my powerpoint presentation on what I think is the best course of action���" and then Tim is in there with his absolute zero mouth filter and his urge to emotionally contextualise absolutely everything that happens. He goes into fits of anger and then immediately follows it up with "I'm sorry for lashing out, I know you're only trying to help and it's just a lot for me." (hnnngh I'm in awe of this boy's emotional awareness) and he'll have a good time and then follow it up with "That was great! I particularly enjoyed ____ and ____!" like some field trip assignment. He does this to Bruce, he does this to Dick, he does this to freaking Alfred. His constant communication and general obedience puts everyone at ease and makes them more willing to hear him out, and also if the tiny kid is calling you out on your emotions and not stopping for the last twelve blocks then maybe it's time to address those supposedly obvious feelings.

I'm inclined to think that Dick and Jason could've achieved this if it wasn't for the fact that A) they were stuck to Bruce and had virtually no choice but to seek his approval for everything and B) Bruce wasn't being receptive. By the time Tim came along, Bruce had seen how a lack of trust breaks down the relationship and ultimately leads to major field consequences. He'd figured out that those pesky little emotions that he'd always shunted away was something that could put his Robin in actual danger, that he should actually prioritise them to the extent he could. He'd raised one Robin that he thought probably hated him (Dick) and another that had died trying to find parental love in his absence (Jason) and now here came a third Robin who would throw his hands up in the air exactly like his first two and Bruce knows what comes next if he plays his cards wrong.

It's fascinating for me to watch Dick and Bruce struggle through their own strange relationship in the early days of Tim because they (plus Alfred) constantly have Tim as their bottom line of the Ultimate Child To Protect. And like I said, Tim makes it easy. Anything Bruce fails at in the parental department isn't his first-line responsibility because Tim's dad is alive and he loves him (parental failures on Jack's part are considered more important because Jack's his real actual active dad! Tim doesn't want or expect Bruce to be his dad, therefore rendering all parental affections from Bruce net positive no matter what!), anytime Tim is dissatisfied with the adult support he's getting from Bruce, he stalks Dick or Alfred for Better Adult Advice.

The foundation of their relationship makes it work for Tim to be effectively and eventually officially an emancipated minor. Tim is well-equipped enough to handle the pesky adult parts. As for the mentoring parts, this child is basically famous for procuring his own family. But he and Bruce are extremely similar on their paranoid need for control, and this takes them in opposite directions in this scenario — Bruce wanting to adopt Tim, and Tim wanting to be independant. What I love so much about this conclusion is that Bruce gives in, accepts that he can't have total control, settles for involving himself in Tim's life in any way he can. And Tim receives this as trust, validation, security. It has the unfortunate side effect of encouraging his paranoia-fueled shenanigans (*cough*hit list*cough) as basically everyone in the batfamily does to each other, but it reinforces the support Tim needed at this difficult time. Bruce managed to reassure him that he would still be there for him even if he didn't choose to lock them into the father-son role Bruce wanted. Is it any surprise that Tim is the Robin he can depend on to always come home when called on?

(Of course, the net positive still means Bruce messed up 999 times but sooomehow they did manage a net positive)

This is one of my favourite Bruce/Tim moments. All you will ever need to know about Bruce's method of parenting his kids is in these three panels.

[inkskinned]

don't worry, they're joking! they're always joking when it would be something, like bigoted. because i'm not a bigot, obviously, i just vote for bigots - well, they're not bigots either, you can't really call someone a bigot just because they have religious views. this is the land of the free, and it's a christian nation, after all. you can pretend otherwise but let's just be real here; all our values are really based on the bible. anyway, i know you liberals get your panties in a twist - can i say that, or are you gonna cancel me, haha, #metoo - about every little joke he said and every little dramatic political view. oh, fascist this and fascist that. you are online too much, you love the word fascist because it's big and you're just paranoid about things.

well, no, i don't, like, read the policies. i have a life. and so what if they wrote - stop it, it's not a manifesto, okay? he eventually backed off from that - oh the vice president? who cares about that guy, that isn't real power. you're being dramatic, they're just spitballing. everyone makes big claims when they're out there campaigning. he just means he personally wouldn't get gay married. you want him to divorce his wife and get gay married? anyway, even if they cancelled gay marriage - it wouldn't happen, okay? nobody i know really cares about that - it'd be states-rights like those abortions you love so much. and you live in a blue state. you live in like the gay capital of the world. i don't know why it'd be so bad for you, you're borrowing trouble there.

and besides, you're missing the point of his campaign! you people want to be victims so bad you completely ignore what we're really voting for. there are tons of good things that happened because of his name and his policies - the economy, for one. oh stop, just because i can't tell you what a tariff is off the top of my head doesn't mean i don't have eyes. and stuff was better under him! well, yeah, anything good is his work, obviously. what? no, all the bad stuff was biden. and probably also obama. what do you even care about this, anyway? it's not going to effect you. it's four years.

oh my god, not the climate change argument again, i'm not getting into that. i don't care about it. if my house is beachfront that's great news for me. and we don't really know what's causing it. no, i saw you forwarded me those articles and i just laughed. what, do you think i have time to sit on my ass and read shit? huh? well, no, i like reading the babylon bee. they actually had a great article about all you climate freaks. and in the meantime, what do you want me to do? i'm not paying 4 dollars for gas. liberals love to talk about solutions but never pay for the solutions. what do you mean blocked because of congress. you gotta stop with the conspiracy shit.

no, my side doesn't have real conspiracy theories. the vaccine thing is a real thing. besides, you yourself don't like big pharma. just because i have an opinion, suddenly now you think big pharma is great? and this is serious, okay? your mom's friend's coworker has a kid that died from a heart event. i don't want you getting any more vaccines. i regret that you got them as a kid, i'd redo them. what do you mean you'd vaccinate your own kids? are you finally thinking of having some? you know i want grandkids - oh stop, i've never pressured you, i'm just saying that if you're going to get gay married, you might as well give me some normal grandkids to love.

stop, you know what i meant. what? no, he's not going to take away your right to adopt. besides, you could always use a sperm donor, haha, i know your high school ex would love to - jesus! okay! no need to snap. i'm just saying that you don't need to be married to have a kid. the only real benefit to marriage is taxes, haha. it won't change anything. oh my god, no, there won't be a rise in hate crimes. well, it's not his fault what people do in his name! he eventually spoke out against that, anyway.

what do you mean he supported them? i didn't hear him say that. oh. well, yeah, he said it, but like, he's clearly joking.

[writting-stuff-sometimes]

Or you just told us to do it...- Lando x F reader

Summary: Y/N is the McLaren community manager. Lando leaves a comment on the latest Mclaren post, y/n is not happy about it.

Warnings: Slightly suggestive

Word Count: 1.2 K

Notes: My romance book delulu mind instantly thought of something when reading Lando's response. I'm working on the Play with fire part 3 but it will be a long one

Your job as a McLaren CM was awesome, as it was stressful. You had two young drivers and complete freedom from the managers to do all sorts of trends. And you would if you weren't dealing with a PR nightmare and a black cat.

As much fun as it was when the two of them were in the mood to record stuff, sometimes it could be a torturous nightmare if one was in a funky mood or couldn't deal with pr at that moment.

But after the last race and all the comments on the most recent McLaren post about Oscar deserving more support and Lando being a spoiled diva, plus all sorts of posts on social media about the two of them doing an eventual Hamilton vs Rosberg. The heads of coms had requested to do as much damage control as possible. So the moment you walked in the garage and saw a tyre trolly laying around, you got an idea.

You sent the drivers a text requesting their presence at the garage entrance.

Both drivers knew why you wanted them, so they stalled as much a possible, making you wait over 45 minutes.

"Hey, sorry for the delay." Oscar said with his classic half smile

"Yeah, sorry for the delay. We didn't really want to come." Lando spoke both their minds. Oscar just turned towards him with a look of disapproval but held back a smile.

"I'm just doing my job, guys." You lifted your hands in defeat.

"So, what dance are we doing today?" Lando walked and took your phone from your hand.

"No dance today." You said, yanking the phone back and trying to hide your blushing cheeks. "This will be super simple. You'll push each other on this trolley." They both stared at you, not a single emotion on their faces.

"You're serious?" Oscar wasn't usually so critical, and it almost made you doubt your idea, but you were certain this would please the fans.

"C'mon you guys, this will be gold. It's fast, easy, and the fans will love it."

"You've become so good at describing Lando" Oscar said and then laughed silently as he inspected said trolley.

"I ain't that easy," Lando tried to defend himself

"Or lovable," you replied softly, looking down at your phone.

"Hey, I heard that." Lando turned to look at you, offended.

"Anyways, please, help me with this, and I won't bother you for the rest of the day."

"Promise?" Oscar asked.

"Promise" You answered, crossing your fingers in front of your heart.

"Fine, c'mon Lando, before she comes up with another weird trend."

Both drivers did their best to look entertained, and as much as they hated your idea initially, they ended up having a good 20-minute play date with the trolley, giving you enough material for the day.

After they were gone, you posted the video to Instagram, and like you imagined, it got tons of reactions right away.

At lunch, you checked your phone again, reading through the comments and smiling at your success. Most of them were positive and praised how fun both drivers looked; a couple of mean ones remained, but this was normal. Then a blue check mark caught your eye.

lando "Or you just told us to do it..."

"I'm going to kill him," You said out loud.

"Lando?" Mike, the engineer eating beside you, turned to look at you, amused.

"Who else?"

"You two are like an old married couple." Mike said as he took his coffee and walked towards the exit. "Don't hurt him much; we need him for quali" Mike shouted back as you took your stuff from the table and stormed towards his driver's room. If you weren't so angry, you would've been worried about people thinking about you and Lando as a married couple.

You knocked a couple of times, but there was no answer, then opened the door to find an empty room. You weren't about to search for him around the entire track and make a scene out there. He had to eventually come back, so you decided to sit there and wait, reading the comment whenever you felt the anger was easing down.

Finally, after an hour and a half, you heard his distinctive laugh approaching.

When he opened the door, his eyes went from amused to worried in two seconds, your expression far from friendly.

"Jon, can you give us a sec?" Lando asked his trainer without taking his eyes off you, as if you were an animal about to attack their prey.

"Told you it was a bad idea." Said the trainer before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

Lando walked towards you, but you stretched out your arm, your hand on his chest, making him stop at arm's length.

"Are you trying to get me fired?" You asked, staring right into his soul.

"I was just messing with you."

"No, Lando. You're messing with my job."

"C'mon, it was just a comment." He pushed your arm to the side and walked to hug you tight against his chest. Your arms stuck to your sides, not wanting to fall for his sweet cologne or warmth.

"No, it wasn't. I got specific instructions from coms! We needed this to ease the shit going around"

"People will always say shit" He spoke against your head, his tone slightly tinted with sadness. Social media hasn't been the same for him, at least for the last couple of seasons. The moment you felt his sadness, you couldn't hold back and placed one arm around his waist; he wasn't fully forgiven yet.

Your phone rang in your free hand.

"Ugh" you pushed yourself away, just enough to lift your arm and read the message.

Steve Hello, can you stop by my office in ten?

"He's going to fire me." You let your head fall back and sighed.

"I'm sorry," his voice filled with honesty. "I didn't think."

"Sounds like your MO."

"Hey, unnecessary rudeness."

He hugged you tight again, giving a kiss to your exposed neck.

"If you forgive me, I will let you film me later in our room; I bet the fans would love that," he whispered in your ear. As much as the comment had you blushing and feeling warmer than the scorching sun outside, you had an uncomfortable meeting with your boss to think about.

"If you want to get me fired, just say so. I will sign my resignation right now."

"Fine, we can tape that, and I will let you keep it for personal use."

"You're unbelievable."

Your phone rang again.

Steve Sorry, something just came up. See you in an hour.

"Excellent, extend the torture" you sighed loudly again.

"I'm really sorry" Lando spoke against your neck, giving you goosebumps. "How about I make it up to you?"

You stared at him, eyebrow raised and a serious look on your face.

"I don't have to be out there for another 40 minutes; we can have some nonsocial media-approved fun." He started laying open-mouth kisses to your neck as he took the hem of your shirt and pulled it up.

"And what are we doing for the other 35 minutes?"

"Forget it." He said, unwrapping his arms and turning to walk towards the door.

"Come here." You took his McLaren-issued shirt and pulled him back to join your lips. He had done it bad this time, but Steve was probably just going to give you a slap on your wrist, and you would just blame it on Lando.

__________________

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[formula-ghost]

Wildflower (OP81 x fem!reader x LN4)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER SUMMARY: In the aftermath of Oscar’s breakup, he realizes there’s only one thing he needs to start feeling better. 

WORD COUNT: 9.4k

WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI. Reader has AFAB anatomy. Rough sex (choking, biting, hair pulling), oral (m and f receiving), fingering, P in V, use of protection, praise, degradation/name calling, no aftercare (literally this entire chapter is them fucking, I’m sorry. I promise that all the smut has plot value haha). Mentions of cheating, reader is haunted by the narrative, hints of angst at the end. Also if a man treats you like Oscar treats YN in this story, LEAVE HIM. 

TAGLIST:  @at-a-rax-ia  @henna006 @linnygirl09 @cassielikereading @judelina  @supertrashbread @fastandcurious16 @widow-cevans  @czennieszn  @irisesinthegarden @wierdflowerpower  @sweetwh0re @reginalaufeyson-holmes @honethatty12 @suns3treading @obxstiles

A/N: The amount of love that everyone has shown me on this fic has been so overwhelming. You all have ignited my passion to create again. Thank you <3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Oscar stayed at your apartment for 4 days. 

There was a lot to be done; Lily had to arrange housing back in the UK and move her things. At some point, Oscar would have to tell his family. Potentially, an announcement would need to be made on social media. 

It felt like a to-do list, rather than the breaking of what once was something beautiful. Now, just boxes to check off. 

And Oscar wasn’t up to the task of any of it; you couldn’t blame him. It was hard enough for him to eat and sleep, let alone think about the upcoming races or the logistics of the breakup.

You let him talk when he wanted, but as the days between the breakup and the present grew, he seemed to settle. The shock was gone, replaced by a void, a thick grief that weighed down on him like a ton of bricks. There were a lot of quiet moments. 

Of course, you at least made sure that he had his basic needs taken care of. It was the least you could do.

On the afternoon of the fourth night, he got a text from Lily.

I’ve finished moving my stuff. Can you stop by in 15 minutes so I can drop off the keys? 

You read it aloud, because he couldn’t even bear to see her words with his own eyes. He stared at the wall ahead of him.

“Do you want me to go with you?” you asked.

“No,” he said, “I’ll be okay.”

He was silent then, the only sound from him being the jingle of his own keys as he got up to leave your apartment for the first time that week. As he walked out, you exhaled, throwing out a silent wish that he’d be okay seeing her again so soon. 

Oscar made the same wish as he pulled into the parking lot of his apartment that only days before he’d shared with Lily. He felt like a robot in all of his movements; getting out of the car, pressing the elevator button, walking down the hall until he rounded the corner and saw her. 

“Hey,” she greeted him, to which he just gave her a small nod. 

“Here are the keys,” she said, and handed them to him. “I got all my stuff out, so, the apartment is all yours.”

“Where are you going?”

“Back home. For now, at least.” 

“You know you didn’t have to do this. You could have stayed here. Or I could have gotten you a place here in Monaco.”

“Don’t,” Lily said, softly, as if her tone of voice could change anything about the grief that the man before he felt. 

“It didn’t have to be like this, Lily,” he continued. “I told you, I’d quit it all. I’ll go to therapy. Whatever you want.”

“You’re living at her place. You’re sleeping in her bed.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Don’t make this any harder than it already is, Oscar.” Tears welled up in Lily’s eyes. “Let’s just wish each other the best and go on with our lives.”

“Is this really what you want?” Oscar pushed. “You really just want to throw away 5 years? Over what? I can change, Lily—”

“Goodbye, Oscar,” she said, walking away whilst he was still talking. He just watched her form get smaller and smaller down the hallway until she was gone. 

There was nothing he could do but stand there. She wasn’t coming back. 

Back at your apartment, dinner was almost ready. The clock on your phone told you that Oscar had been gone a little longer than anticipated. 

Maybe they were talking. Hell, maybe they had made up and Oscar wouldn’t be coming back. You were never the type to worry so much, but you had to admit that your thoughts were racing a little faster than usual.

That was, until you heard your door knob jiggle and felt the vibration of Oscar’s footsteps through your entryway. You heard him sigh and sink down into the sofa, running his fingers through his hair out of nervousness. 

“Food,” you softly called, walking out of the kitchen with two bowls, handing one to him. He accepted it wordlessly.

“D’you want to put on a movie or something? Or…talk about it?”

He just shook his head. So you obliged him, allowing him to have a quiet dinner.

As you ate, you admired him from across the couch. Even with his tousled hair, eye bags, and hunched shoulders, he was beautiful. And one day his smile would return—that sweet bunny-toothed smile that you had fallen in love with so many years ago. 

Your love for him had changed, though. You’d never have him. You knew that. And some would call it pathetic to stay in a man’s life solely because you loved him, when he didn’t love you in the same way. 

And maybe they were right. But you didn’t need the approval of others. You just needed your friend. 

And from Oscar’s side of the couch, he was thankful for the silence, but he was tortured by his own thoughts. The implication of what Lily had said; you’re sleeping in her bed, as if he had gone straight to you for a comfort beyond just home cooked meals. 

It pissed him off. How could she think so little of him? Accusing him of cheating, getting angry at him for wanting to spend time with his friends? 

Oscar was a man that was slow to anger. But when he got pissed, truly pissed, there was only one thing that really let him get that anger out.

If Lily thought that little of him, then maybe he’d just have to prove how horrible he really was. 

When dinner was done, you silently washed the dishes and cleaned up around the kitchen, stretching the sore muscles in your back and grimacing as they burned with the contractions.

“Your back hurting?” Oscar asked, leaning on the counter as you cleaned.

“A bit, yeah,” you confessed. “It’s fine.”

“I can take the couch tonight.”

“Oh no, you keep the bed. You need it before that flight tomorrow, anyway.” 

“I can sleep on the plane.” He paused. “Or, you know, the bed is big enough to share.”

Your hand paused as you wiped down the counters. You didn’t look up at him. The last time you had shared a bed with Oscar was when you lost your virginity. 

“I think that’s a bad idea.”

“We did it all the time when we were kids.”

“We aren’t kids anymore,” you said, reaching up to put away the clean plates. Your back burned with the stretch of your arms, and you winced. 

“I don’t mean it to be weird,” he said. You let the silence speak for itself. 

But when you were done cleaning up, you glanced at the couch and sighed, knowing that you really, really wanted to sleep in your warm and comfy bed.

So you slipped into the bedroom quietly, not acknowledging Oscar when you got under the covers and turned on your side, exhaling deeply as you felt the soft cushioning mold to the familiar shape of your body. 

Both of you were still awake, unable to sleep with the presence of the other, filling the room with a thick tension. 

“Are you still hurting?” Oscar whispered, laying flat on his back, staring into the void of the ceiling.

You, on the other hand, layed on your side facing away from him, staring into the void of your curtains that were only barely blocking out the light from the city outside. “Yeah,” you answered. 

You heard him shuffle, placing his hand on the small of your back, gently pushing you down to lay with your stomach against the bed. You let him, though the intimacy of the moment was…odd. 

“Trust me,” Oscar assured, as if he could read your thoughts. “Relax.”

You did, letting out a long breath as he began to massage the knots in your back, firmly pressing his strong hands into the dough of your flesh.

He slid his hands under the hem of your shirt, but you did nothing to refuse the contact, having practically turned into a puddle at the relief he brought your soreness. 

But when he was done, he just slid your shirt back down and sat back up in the bed, as if nothing had ever happened.

“Better?” he asked. You gave a strong exhale as you got up and stretched your arms above your head.

“So much better,” you said, giving him a soft smile. 

“I’m sorry for taking your bed.”

“Don’t be.”

“I guess I’ll go back to my place when I get home from Japan,” he said. 

“You can stay here as long as you like,” you assured him. 

“Thank you,” he said. In the darkness, the room was only barely illuminated by the lights of the city, but you could see Oscar's frame sitting before you; his tousled hair, his broad shoulders, his perfectly sharp jawline. 

Then the words came spilling out of you, in a way you couldn’t control. “I’m… so sorry, Oscar. For everything.”

“For what?”

“For ruining your relationship with Lily, for always being in the middle of everything—”

Oscar cut you off by kissing you. That familiar feeling of warmth and safety came to rest in your chest, a strange deja-vu. 

“Oscar…” you whispered as he pulled away.

“You didn’t ruin anything. I wanted you there. Always.”

“Lily thought you were in love with me.”

“I know. She thought you were in love with me, too.”

You paused, looking at him again. You couldn’t see his eyes in the dark, just the faint outline of your face. But the floodgates of your honesty had already been opened. 

“Was she right?” you asked. 

“Was she?” he responded, putting the question back on you. 

You didn’t answer. You loved him. He knew you loved him. You knew that he knew that you loved him. But you couldn’t bear to say it aloud, not knowing whether he’d say it back.

To end the silence, he just kissed you again, deeper this time, holding your waist. But you pulled back.

“We shouldn’t,” you said.

“Why not?” 

“Because you’ll regret it in the morning.”

“No I won’t,” he said, kissing your neck. You inhaled sharply. “Besides, it’s not anything we haven’t done before.”

“You’re not thinking clearly, Oscar.”

“I know what I want.”

You pulled away, catching his eye in a sliver of light that snuck in between the curtains. 

He continued, “I know what you want, too.”

He was right. You wanted him. And if you had really pulled away from him, he would have let you go. But he knew you wouldn’t.

So you let him bring his arms up under your shirt, holding you now with a force that was rougher, more refined, than when you were two nervous teenagers exploring each other’s bodies. 

He quickly pushed you down on the bed, pressing his weight on you as his tongue slipped past your teeth to explore the warmth of your mouth. His hand found yours and he intertwined your fingers, pinning you down with the tender gesture.

His lips roamed down, finding their way to your neck to leave marks as he roughly bit and sucked into the tender flesh, causing you to softly gasp. His unoccupied hand roughly gripped at your thigh, holding onto you with a frenzied lust that you’d never seen before.

All his movements were twinged with this agitated desire, as if your body could take all his anger and frustration away through just his touch. 

His lips left your neck for only a moment, as he freed his hands and removed your shirt, revealing your bare chest, nipples hardened from the cool air in the room. He quickly removed his own shirt and began to fondle you, pawing at one side as he brought his mouth to suck at the other. Your head fell back on the pillow, overwhelmed at the rough sensations—Oscar’s bare skin against yours, the coolness of the room, the warmth of his wanting. 

His breath got more ragged as you felt his hardness pressing against you, the full extent of his longing held back only by the fabric of his sweatpants. It wasn’t like years ago, hesitant and gentle. Now, he was dark and still devoid of any love. 

But love was the furthest thing from your mind right now, your body overwhelmed with the sensation of Oscar’s hand around your neck, his fingers pressing down the side to keep you still as his other hand moved lower down to the hem of your shorts. 

He slid his hand under your panties, finding your pussy, slick and already craving him. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet already,” Oscar murmured. 

All you could do was whimper as his fingers teased your entrance and he went back to kissing up and down your neck. It was like he couldn’t waste a second with your body, or else the reality of what you all were doing would catch up to him. 

But neither of you were thinking of anything other than the growing lust you had for the other as his fingers pumped in and out of you, filling the quiet room with sinful noises.

“Fuck, Oscar,” you said, your voice breathy. “Slow down.”

“Why?” he questioned, obeying your request anyway. “You can’t handle it, huh? How are you gonna take it when I fuck you?”

“Osc…” you exhaled. All you could do was moan his name as he sped back up. 

“No, you can take it, can’t you?” he taunted, his fingers sprinting in and out of you, hitting that perfect spot inside of you that made your stomach burn with pleasure. 

“Yes,” you whispered between breaths.

“Good girl,” he said, curling his thumb to circle your clit as he pumped his fingers faster, causing you to see stars.

The praise and the sweet burn of his touch pushed you over the edge. You threw your head back on the pillow and let out a low moan as you clenched around his fingers.

You felt him grab your chin with one hand, taking his other from your dripping pussy and forcing his fingers in your mouth. You instinctively closed your mouth around him, curling your tongue along the digits, tasting your own cum on his fingers.

His eyes traced the edges of your lips as he pulled his hand away and kissed you, mingling tastes until you forgot where you stopped and he began. 

He pulled away and removed the last layers of clothing until you both were bare, shielded only by the darkness of your room.

There was no love making, no tenderness, just animalistic desire, as he wasted no time putting on a condom and sliding himself inside you with a long groan. 

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he said, leaning his weight on you as he stuffed you with every inch, filling you with the sweet burn of pleasure. “Yeah, you can take it, can’t you?”

You didn’t answer, instead balling up the sheets in your fist as he fucked you. To hold him would be too intimate.

He closed his eyes and buried his head in the pillows next to you as he desperately rutted into you, taking it slow to savor every second of blissful escape that your body could give him. You could hear every frenzied noise that escaped his mouth, and you responded in turn, doing nothing to hold back the sounds that rose from your stomach to your throat and passed through your lips. 

“Oscar,” you breathed, “I’m close.” With every movement, the knot in your stomach threatened to release, flooding your body with pleasure. 

Oscar sped up his pace, chasing his own release more than yours. Still, you broke, coming apart beneath him, shuddering as he continued to press in and out of you. 

It wasn’t long until his own moans increased in pitch and intensity, signifying that he was nearing the edge. You rocked forward on him, fucking him as he fucked you, getting him closer quicker. The sweet friction of your bodies was too much; he pulled out and removed the condom, pumping his length furiously. He bit his lip and groaned expletives, cumming on your stomach, painting your skin with the evidence of your lust. 

Oscar’s breath slowed as he rummaged around for his discarded clothing, handing you a towel to clean up. As he almost immediately re-dressed, you felt…exposed. Self-conscious. As if this wasn’t your best friend, the man you’d given your virginity to so many years ago.

You felt… used. 

Even after you had dressed yourself, and both of you had turned opposite each other to get some rest, the feeling didn’t go away. Because, after all, hadn’t you used him, too?

I know what you want, he had said. You had wanted this—at least, in theory. But now, days after the love of Oscar’s life had left him heartbroken? 

No, not this. This couldn’t be what you wanted. But then why had he been right? 

Oscar may have said that he wouldn’t regret it, but you definitely were already.

You fell into a tense sleep, only to be awoken by Oscar’s alarm a few hours later. He groaned and slapped his hand over your nightstand to shut it off, grumbling as he turned back over and buried his face in the pillow.

You sat up, giving up on a good night’s rest, and went to the kitchen to make some tea and watch the sunrise from your balcony. You could hear Oscar from the bedroom, groaning as his snooze went off for the second time and he heaved himself out of bed. 

You wordlessly handed him a mug and walked out of the kitchen to the balcony. It was too early in the morning; there would be no sunrise for another hour or so. You sighed. 

“Aren’t you cold?” Oscar asked as he walked up behind you, mug in hand. 

“I wanted to watch the sunrise. Didn’t realize it was still so early.” You took a sip.

“You’ll get sick if you stay out here too long.” 

You hummed, relishing the warmth of the mug between your fingers. He was right—it was freezing. 

“When are you flying out?” he asked. 

“I’m not,” you said, staring off into the water in the distance. You took another sip. “They’ve got that new guy doing the photos this weekend.”

“You should,” Oscar said, walking forward to lean on the balcony next to you. The closeness felt like a mockery after the distance you’d felt hours before.

You let out a chuckle. “I think the new guy probably cried when we told him he’d get to do Japan. I can’t take that away from him.”

“I meant, like, with me.”

It wouldn’t be the first time, nor the last, that you’d gone to a grand prix as a personal guest of Oscar’s. It was something that shouldn’t be weird at all. Then why did it feel so wrong?

“I just…don’t wanna be alone,” he said as he turned his head to look at you, but you avoided his gaze.

‘I don’t know, we’re already behind on the merch orders—”

“You can work remotely.”

“Not from the pit wall,” you said, a faint smile tracing the edges of your lips.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re stubborn?” he teased. A smile came to his lips—the first smile you’d seen in days. 

“Never,” you said, your voice dripping in sarcasm.

“Well, if you wanna turn down authentic sushi and seeing your favorite McLaren driver, be my guest.”

You cringed at the reference—ever since Lily had tried to set you up with Lando, you and Oscar had jokingly started referring to him as “your favorite McLaren driver,” even though you both avoided each other like the plague due to the awkwardness of it all. 

But authentic sushi sounded great. 

“You drive a hard bargain, Osc,” you laughed. 

“And I drive an even better Formula 1 car. Which you could see, in Japan,” he joked, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows in that familiar dry expression.

Oscar felt…normal again. And yes, you had been so busy tending to him that you had fallen behind on your work. But it was worth it, to banter with your best friend again, even if only for a moment.

“Fine,” you acquiesced. “You got me. Let me inside so I can pack, it is fucking freezing out here.”

One torturously long flight later, you were checking into a hotel in Japan with Oscar.  

Since the trip had been planned so late—your ticket literally bought over the phone in the Uber on the way to the airport—the hotel was fully booked by F1 employees. You and Oscar would have to share a room. 

Your stomach sank at the realization, as if you hadn’t slept with him the night before anyway. 

Up in the room, as he unpacked a few of his belongings, Oscar’s phone rang. You glanced at the caller ID: Mum.

He saw it too, but ignored it, continuing to set out his clothes for the next morning. 

But your phone rang, too, the same name and number, even the same caller ID. Nicole was practically your mom anyways.

“Do you want me to answer it?” you asked, and Oscar sighed.

“I haven’t told her yet.”

“I figured.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it. Not even with her.” He slung a shirt over his shoulder, walking towards the bathroom.

“She’s not gonna stop until she gets one of us on the phone.”

“I know.”

“Do you want me to lie?

“No,” he began. He knew you. You could pull off a small white lie if you really had to, but it tortured you inside. He wouldn’t ask that of you. “I guess… do you mind telling her? I just don’t have it in me.”

“I can.”

“Thank you,” he said, giving you a flat smile, a genuine attempt at thankfulness. You just nodded and took a deep breath as you heard the shower knob turn and water droplets crash against the floor.

You called Nicole back.

“Hello, darling,” she began. “How are you?”

“I’m alright. A bit jet lagged,” you admitted.

“Where are you off to now?” she joked, a smile surely on her face.

“I’m in Japan with Oscar, actually. Kinda last minute.”

“Ah,” she said. “Are you with him now?”

“No,” you lied, unable to admit that you were currently sharing a room with her son. “I can pass it along, though?”

“Oh no, I was just wondering how he was doing.”

“Well, I can tell you, he’s not great, unfortunately. Erm… he and Lily broke up.”

“Oh, God…” she sighed, “That’s horrible.”

“Yeah,” you replied, unsure of what else to say. “I’m not entirely sure what happened. I guess they just weren’t happy anymore. He’s heartbroken, though. So, if it seems like he’s avoiding your calls, that’s why.”

“You know, I figured something was wrong. Things were just…off, when you all were here, weren’t they?” 

Your heart rate increased. “Yeah, I guess they were.”

“Can I ask you something, YN?”

“Of course.”

“Did you know anything about this?” Her tone wasn’t at all accusatory or scandalous; as usual, she was kind.

“I mean, I knew they were having some problems. I think Lily wanted them to spend more time together. I never thought it’d end, though.”

Nicole hummed. She knew you couldn’t quite tell her the full truth. There was something deeper there, something from far before your visit to the Piastri family home. She’d get it from you eventually. 

‘Well, I’m sure you all are busy in Japan, so I won’t hold you any longer. But tell Oscar I love him and to call me when he’s ready. And I love you too, YN.”

“Love you, Mum,” you said as you hung up the call. Her voice felt like a warm hug through the phone. 

As if on cue, Oscar came out of the shower, the white towel wrapped around his waist leaving little to the imagination. He roughly tousled his wet hair in a smaller towel. God, he looked good. If it were up to you, you’d push him back on the bed and fuck him right then and there.

But something felt…wrong. You’d been with him just the night before, but an unfamiliar guilt had made its way inside of your chest and made a home there.

It didn’t make sense. You, not Oscar, had warned against it; he had worn down your carefully built defenses, the ones you’d meticulously created over the years, until no excuse could protect you from the truth anymore. Yes, you wanted him. You had wanted him for years. Every second that he had been with Lily, you had wanted him for yourself. 

But you had never done anything about it. Always been respectful, reading the room, leaving when you knew you weren’t wanted. You hadn’t done anything until she finally left—and did you have every right to, then?

You guessed so. Then why did it now feel so fucking wrong?

Oscar’s voice broke you out of your spiraling. “What did she say?”

“She just wanted to check up on you. I told her.” He hummed in response. “She was asking me about it, but I didn’t really know how much you wanted to share. She just said she loves you and to give her a call when you can.”

“Thank you. For… doing that. I’m sure it was awkward.”

“It was fine,” you lied. It had been incredibly awkward—you could sense that Nicole suspected you were far more involved in the breakup than you had admitted to being. But was it really your fault? What had you done wrong? You continued, “It’s the least I can do.”

Oscar got quiet then, thinking about what, you’d never know. 

“Well, I guess I promised you sushi?”

“That you did,” you replied. You were more thankful for a break in the awkward silence than the promise of dinner.

So you ended up at Oscar’s favorite hole in the wall sushi restaurant in Japan, as if nothing in the world was amiss. 

Still, the feeling of something being deeply wrong, though now shoved to the back of your mind, wouldn’t leave you alone. It was odd—there had never been an F1 race in which Oscar and Lily weren’t together. Of course, she couldn’t come to every race, and with you working for him, you often ended up in positions similar to this.

But it felt like your entire world had been tinged a bizarre shade of blue, like Lily’s absence was a grief that you felt too, though you two had never been particularly close. And if you could even feel this crushing weight of her absence, you didn’t even want to begin imagining what Oscar felt. 

So, you’d have to excuse the awkwardness, the quiet moments, and even his concerning desire for you last night. He must be losing his mind. 

All of this, while also attempting to keep up the appearance of normalcy; he snapped a photo of you throwing up a peace sign and posted it to his close friends story, playing as if nothing was amiss. 

As you ate, his phone vibrated. A message from Lando. 

Oh, you all didn’t invite me? I see how it is. 

The message, dripping with Lando’s usual cocky sarcasm, was typical of the Brit. On any other day, Oscar would have smiled to himself and playfully rolled his eyes at his teammate’s antics. Today, though, the message only brought forth a flood of frustration. 

In the midst of Oscar’s heartbreak, something darker had been brewing; a championship battle.

He knew it was too early in the season to call. It was only the third race, and McLaren was known for the teamwork between himself and Lando. But Oscar was nothing if not competitive. You had to be, to get this far in F1. 

His legacy so far has been polite teamwork. Papaya rules, or whatever the fuck the strategists wanted to call it. Getting gifted wins by Lando or giving him the wins that Oscar rightfully deserved—he was willing to do it, of course, for the team. But he couldn’t be sidelined forever in favor of the golden boy of Formula 1. 

So Oscar knew that this would be his season. Lando had a close call in the 2024 season with Max Verstappen and was being hailed as the favorite for this year’s championship. But Oscar was determined. Oscar had nothing left to lose. 

He was getting that championship if it killed him. And that meant that there was no more room for friends.

Oscar opened the message, just to get the notification bubble to go away, annoyed by the friendly pestering of his competitor. He left Lando on seen.

But Lando wouldn’t let his teammate get away from him that easily. 

“Hey, Oscar,” he yelled ahead of him, as they walked into the paddock the next morning for media day. “Morning, you muppet,” he said, playfully clapping Oscar on the back. 

“Morning,” Oscar murmured. 

“Tired?” he asked. Oscar nodded. “Well, makes sense, because you were so busy going out without me. And then you had the nerve to leave me on read.”

Lando’s tone was clearly playful, but Oscar was still having none of it. “We got sushi.”

“Ewww. But as your unofficial fourth wheel, I still would have appreciated an invite.”

“It was just me and YN,” Oscar said, absentmindedly fiddling in his bag for his ID. He had truly been tired—too tired to really organize his bag before he left the hotel this morning. 

“Ah. Well,” Lando smiled, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, “wouldn’t want to interrupt that.”

Oscar looked up, making an unamused face at Lando. “What are you saying?”

“What? I know a side chick when I see one. But that’s none of my business, I know when to keep my mouth shut.” 

Oscar yanked his pass out of his bag, zipping it up aggressively. “YN isn’t my side chick.”

“You’re in a sour mood. Did you not sleep well or something?”

Oscar wanted nothing more than for Lando to leave him alone. “No, I didn’t. Lando, you know we’re not friends, right?”

“Sure we are.”

“Outside of the track, maybe. But I’m here to beat you. Not invite you out to sushi.” 

“Oscar, you’ve got to relax. You’re letting all this get to your head, mate.”

“I have somewhere to be,” Oscar said, abruptly ending the exchange there.

Lando wasn’t offended. He knew that when stakes were high, you said things you didn’t mean—God knows he had done that himself too many times to count. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something beyond just the stresses of Formula 1 racing that was causing Oscar’s hostility. 

Contrary to what one might think, Oscar was actually very easy to read. And it hadn’t exactly been top secret that he and Lily were having issues. Maybe Lando had just hit a nerve with the implication that Oscar had been unfaithful. 

But was he so wrong? To any outside viewer it seemed plain as day that there was something between you and Oscar that Lily seemed in denial about—at least, she had been, until Lando was caught in the crossfire during the Italy trip. 

God, the Italy trip. He cringed just thinking about it. Even after clearing the air with you, he just felt so…disgusting. Not at you, but at himself, the way he had dismissed you as if you were meaningless. But what else was he meant to do, when Lily had pushed you far beyond your comfort zone, and he knew you didn’t want anything like that with him?

He hoped that you wouldn’t hold it against him. He certainly wouldn’t hold whatever Oscar was dealing with against him. 

And that was fortunate, because Oscar’s foul mood followed him throughout the day, and into the next morning too. It was like the Aussie was followed by his own personal raincloud of annoyance, unable to escape his own thoughts. 

He was quickly learning that, even at Formula 1 speeds, he couldn’t outrun his heartbreak.

But it wasn’t sadness that he felt. It was anger. It was determination. It was a giant fuck you to everyone and no one in particular. Gone was the polite cat, the veneer of civility and sportsmanship. He needed to win, just to feel something again. 

Sessions one and two of free practice seemed promising. The third session was even better. 

But before qualifying, he felt that now all too familiar feeling bubbling up within him. The pressure to perform.

He needed to get pole. He needed it. 

In the paddock, he passed the commentators box. He could hear them talking about him. 

“For this afternoon’s qualifying session, all eyes are on Oscar Piastri! The McLaren driver had an amazing 2024 season, and so far this year, he’s already clenched a home win. But, somehow, he has never secured pole position at any Formula 1 Grand Prix qualifying session, only having done it for two sprint races. Compared to his teammate Lando Norris, who has historically dominated qualifying…”

He couldn’t listen any longer. 

He stomped back to his driver’s room, the words spinning in his head. It wasn’t just the commentators. It was Lando, it was the crowds, it was Lily. 

No. Not now. 

He grabbed his phone and sent a text.

You were oblivious to all of this, having spent Thursday and Friday in the hotel catching up on all your work that couldn’t be ignored for any longer. You’d come to the track today to support Oscar, and to help the new guy, who you had quickly realized most definitely wasn’t ready to be working an entire grand prix weekend on his own. 

But as you once again reminded him of the most basic functions of spell check on Instagram captions, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. A text from Oscar. 

Come to my room.

A second message.

I need you. 

You felt your heart drop. Even if you didn’t know the details of what exactly Oscar was feeling, you could tell that it was slowly eating away at him, making him a shell of his former self.

In the few days since your last night together in Monaco, you had kept your distance, unsure of where you stood since that one regretful night. But soon, you’d find out exactly what Oscar needed from you.

You practically sprinted to his driver’s room, only knocking once before he opened the door, his face just as flushed as yours. He peeked his head out, looked both ways to ensure the hallway was clear, and pulled you by the waist into the room.

He closed the door and locked it.

In one motion, he grabbed your waist, pushing you against the wall and overwhelming your senses with a fierce kiss. 

You were left breathless as he refused to let you go, bringing his free hand to your chin to hold you still against him. His kiss deepened, devouring your taste, as if he’d never get another chance again. 

When he finally did pull back, you could see his eyes clouded with wanting, looking you up and down like he’d die if he didn’t get more of you.

“Oh, “ you exhaled. “That’s what you needed.”

“Is this okay?”

You swallowed back your nervousness at his loaded question. “Yeah. Just wasn’t expecting it.” 

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I just can’t fucking drive like this.”

You both held your breath as you heard a set of footsteps approaching, then fading off into the distance. 

“We don’t have time. Can you do something for me?”

You nodded at him, your innocent eyes staring at him with anticipation. God, you were fucking perfect. And he was going to ruin you, right here and now. 

“On your knees,” he commanded, and you obeyed. 

He gently pulled your hair back before wrapping around his hands in a fist, pulling you back to look at him. “You’re so good for me,” he cooed.

But that was the end of his gentleness. He was going to prove to you how much he needed you.

You started slow, taking as much of him into your mouth as you could, sinfully dragging your tongue along his sensitive tip. But there was no time for teasing. 

He held your head and pushed into the back of your throat, letting out a soft, low groan as the blissful feeling of your lips around him. 

“That’s it, love. You can take it, right?” he teased, and you let out a muffled “mhm” as an answer, your mouth being preoccupied with much…bigger things. 

“Yeah, you take me so well, you’re so good for me,” he said, pushing your head back and forth to guide your rhythm. “Like you were made for me.”

You couldn’t help the gagging noises that came out of your mouth as you pressed your hands into his thighs for support. He hit the back of your throat, and you felt your eyes roll back from the relentless pace.

“Good little whore,” he said, his voice wavering from pleasure. “Letting me fuck your mouth in public, whenever I need it. God, fuck—”

You dug your nails into your thighs as you took every inch of him one last time, until you felt the sweet stickiness of his release coating the back of your throat. He let out one final groan as he let down your hair and fixed his race suit.

You swallowed and wiped your mouth as Oscar leaned down to kiss your cheek, an odd tenderness after the intensity of your encounter. 

“I’ll see you back at the hotel, yeah?” he asked, and you just nodded as he walked out the door. 

You watched from inside the paddock as Oscar got his first pole position. 

Neither of the McLaren boys won the grand prix, though. Max Verstappen, in usual fashion, had to remind everyone who was the 4 time world champion and who were the two children in comparison, fighting over the shiny toy of a trophy. 

A double papaya podium was good, though. That’s what you thought, at least. You’d hadn’t talked racing with Oscar in a while, knowing that it caused him more harm than good to be constantly reminded of the stakes at hand. 

But after the grand prix, you couldn’t stay with him for the next two races of the triple header. You had truly been neglecting your work in favor of being there for Oscar, and you needed to focus to catch up on all the beginning of season chaos. 

So, having sufficiently trained the new guy to hold down the fort in your absence, you reluctantly went home to Monaco.

But on the road, your absence hit Oscar like a ton of bricks. 

He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t eat. He paced the lobby of expensive hotels like a zombie. Everything was just…wrong. 

Oscar had always been the type who didn’t like to be alone. That wasn’t new. But this…thing, that felt like it was tearing him apart from the inside? He couldn’t name it. 

You could, though. It was heartbreak.

“I miss you,” he admitted, his voice quiet on the other side of the phone. It was the middle of the night in Bahrain, but you were just laying down for bed. 

“I miss you too, Osc, but you’ve got to get some sleep.”

“I can’t. It’s too quiet here.”

“Why don’t you put on some music?”

“It’s just… not the same.”

You sighed, empathetic for your struggling best friend. “What do you usually do when you’re alone on race weekends?”

There had been plenty of weekends where neither you nor Lily were in attendance, but those days seemed foreign to him now. “I don’t even fucking remember.”

“I’m so sorry, Osc. Do you wanna…talk about it?”

He knew the “it” you were referring to. The more accurate pronoun would be “her.”

“No,” he said, the word feeling final and solid. “But has anyone asked about it?”

“No,” you echoed. “You’ll have to tell them eventually. People can tell that you’re not doing too well.”

“Great,” he sighed. 

“If anyone asks, I can tell them.”

“Thank you.” He paused. “I think I’m gonna sell the apartment. Get another one.”

“It might be nice to have a new start.”

“Yeah,” he continued, “I just don’t even want to go back there. But I know I can’t keep hogging your place.”

“You can stay with me as long as you need, Osc.”

“I’d rather you stay with me. The guest room is practically yours already, anyways.”

“I could do that,” you said. 

“Are you sure you can’t come out for Saudi Arabia?”

“I wish I could. But your fans order too much merch and we’re drowning in orders,” you laughed. 

“Good problem to have.”

“Yeah.”

The silence on the lines was thick, an electric current running through the fragile stability of what was unspoken. The breakup, all the emotions he had refused to talk about since it happened, and the…new hobby the two of you had been indulging in. At some point it would have to be addressed.

But not now. Oscar yawned, “This is awful. I’m exhausted all the time but I can’t sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. It was all you could say; it was true. 

“Will you stay on the line until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.” You could never say no to him, even though you knew you should be focused on getting your own sleep. It was an unusual power that Oscar had over you; if anyone else asked this much of you, you would have left them a long time ago. But Oscar? You wished that you could do nothing more than hold him until it didn’t hurt anymore. 

But, for now, you’d have to settle for talking him to sleep from a few thousand miles away. And, evidenced by his soft snoring, it was working wonders. 

In the days before his return, it seemed like Oscar’s anxiety was rubbing off on you, even from so far away.

You couldn’t hardly sleep, always anticipating his call or texts in the odd hours of the night. You settled into an uneasy routine in his absence, your schedule practically becoming his so you were always available to call or watch his races. 

On the surface, it wasn’t unusual; plenty of fans woke themselves up at ungodly hours to watch every interview or free practice session. But in light of everything else, it felt like more of a commitment. 

And the fact that Oscar wanted you to essentially live with him in his Monaco apartment when he got back? Again, it shouldn’t be so odd. You would live with the Piastri family for months at a time when you were younger and your parents traveled for work. 

But you knew this time it was just different. You knew you couldn’t get attached to this new life you had already begun to settle into. At some point Oscar would heal from his heartbreak, and things would go back to normal.

How could life continue as normal, though, with Lily being gone? She was so integral to the fabric of both of your lives that neither of you could imagine one without her in it. 

It was this topic that came up the night before the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix, on a facetime call with your best friend. 

You hadn’t pushed him to talk, knowing that he’d come to you when he really needed it—and he did.

“I just…I hate being on the road, but I don’t want to go back. Being in Monaco without her just feels wrong.”

“I know. It’s weird for me too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just, you all were endgame, you know? I never imagined this would happen.”

He hummed, clearly not expecting that answer. 

“I didn’t either,” he responded. “I know you said it would get better, but I can’t imagine it right now. How did you do this?”

“You want the truth?” you asked. He shifted in bed, bringing his arms up under his head to lay on them, like a child curled up next to his mother.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think I ever really loved any of my exes. I was just trying to convince myself that I did.”

“I don’t believe that. Not after how devastated you were when you found out about the last one.”

You huffed at the nickname ‘the last one.’ After you discovered that your ex had cheated on you. Oscar was still so pissed that he refused to call him by his name.

“No, I didn’t love him. I think I was more upset about the fact that I had finally convinced myself that I did love him, and then he did that. I thought it was finally over, like…it was a game I had won. I tried to stay because I didn’t want to start all over with someone else. But I realized it was a waste of time, so I might as well just stay single.”

“YN, that’s…really sad, actually.”

“I guess,” you said, smiling and exhaling. “But you live and move on, right?” Through your screen you saw the faint sheen of teardrops on Oscar’s eyes. You looked away.

You continued, “But it’s different for you and Lily. You all really loved each other. I don’t know how you heal from that.”

“I don’t either.” He sniffled. “You’ve really never been in love?”

“That’s… it’s complicated.”

Even from a screen thousands of miles away, the implication of your statement was unmistakable. But you didn’t want to go there. Not now. 

Someday, maybe. Someday you would be able to tell Oscar directly to his face that you had been in love with him for nearly a decade.

But first, he had to come home. 

When he landed in the airport in Nice and caught an Uber to his apartment in Monaco, heartfelt confessions of love were the last thing on his mind.

Lando had won the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. Oscar was now losing. 

He couldn’t win them all. It was the beginning of the season. He was going through a rough time. All these excuses swirled around his mind. And that’s what they were—excuses. He hadn’t performed. He needed to be better.

He didn’t want to be better right now, though. He wanted to go home and collapse in his bed and sleep for a week straight. But his apartment would be cold and empty without Lily there.

Well, at least he’d have you.

And since you knew coming back would be hard for him, you had gone out of your way to make his homecoming easier. Using your spare key, you moved a few things into the guest room, did his laundry, lightly cleaned up, and had his favorite dinner set up and ready on the table with a lit candle rounding out the cozy scene. 

He thought he might cry tears of joy when he walked in and saw what you had done. 

Still, it was…different. When he would come home to Lily the house felt more lived in. Now it was clean and cozy, but too much so, evidence that the once binding force of the apartment’s atmosphere was gone. 

He wasn’t complaining though. Few people were lucky enough to come home to a clean home and a warm meal made by someone who loved them. And after the dinner, he certainly wanted to make his appreciation known.

“The least I can do is return the favor,” Oscar said, leaning against the wall behind you as you cleaned up the remnants of the meal. 

You playfully scoffed. “Since when do you cook or clean?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, wrapping his arm around your waist and bringing his lips to your neck.

“Um…oh,” you exhaled, unsure of what to make of his advance, but nevertheless relishing his touch. 

“You’ve just been so good to me,” he whispered in your ear, sending shivers up your spine.

“I’m just…being a good friend.” Your voice was breathy and tense.

“Do you not want to?” he asked, spinning you around to look at him.

“Well I just—” you exhaled, looking away from him. God, yes, you wanted him. Under eye bags and messy hair, depression and vulnerability, you wanted all of him. “In your apartment?”

“Would you rather I fuck you out on the street?” he joked. You would have smiled wider if you didn’t know that he was intentionally dodging the implications of your question. 

You couldn’t not bring it up, though. “In her apartment? In her bed?”

Oscar’s expression got colder. “It’s my apartment. She took all her shit and left.”

“It just feels wrong. I mean, Oscar, what are we doing?” You hadn’t intended for this conversation to happen now, but you both knew it was inevitable. 

“What we are doing is talking, when there are far better things our mouths could be occupied with,” he answered. “But if you don’t want to, that’s fine.”

He pulled his arm away from your waist and turned away from you, but you couldn’t bear it. The thought of him sleeping alone broke your heart.

So you pulled his arm back and hissed him rough. He pushed you back into the counter, asserting dominance, as one hand came up to wrap itself around your neck and the other snaked its way underneath your shirt. 

“Jump,” he instructed, and you hopped up onto the counter and he took off your skirt and panties before spreading your legs apart. 

“I owe you one, no?” he teased before his mouth found your clit and sucked.

“Fuck, Osc,” you said, putting a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans.

“Stop that,” he said, pulling your hand down before bringing his lips back down to your pussy. 

“Osc, I’m trying to be quiet and you’re making that….very difficult,” you said. 

“Quiet? If the neighbors aren’t putting in noise complaints after I’m done with you, then I’m doing something wrong,” he laughed.

You all never made it to the bedroom, too caught up in the moment to even move a few rooms away. He fucked you right there on the counter, whispering filthy nothings in your ear.

“My perfect little toy, aren’t you? Disgusting little girl,” he moaned. “Wanted me so bad you couldn’t even make it to the bedroom. How long have you wanted me to fuck you like this? Days? Weeks? Years?”

You couldn’t even respond, too lost in the heavenly feeling of him filling you with every inch. 

“God, you’re fucking filthy. I know how badly you wanted this, for so long. Fuck,” he moaned, “I’ll take care of it now. Just let go, cum for me.”

You obeyed.

But later that night, as he slept next to you, his words haunted you. It wasn’t the degradation—you liked that—but the deeper implication. He fucked you on the counter that he and Lily had once made dinner on together. You slept in her bed, next to her boyfriend. And he knew that you had wanted him so badly for so long. He teased you with it.

But you had never done anything, right? Oscar was right—he wasn’t her boyfriend, he was her ex. This wasn’t her apartment, not anymore at least. She had left.

Then why didn’t the guilt that was now eating you alive leave with her?

That guilt, powerful as it was, wasn’t enough to keep you from fucking Oscar on every surface of that God-forsaken apartment. You both were insatiable, and soon enough, the sounds of your pleasure echoed through every room, every day. 

Her counter. Her kitchen table. Her couch. Her shower. Her bed. 

The entire place, though now devoid of her belongings, was still Lily’s. And you were defiling it.

But you couldn’t stop. The feeling of Oscar’s hands wrapped around you, his lips on yours, was like a drug. You had waited so fucking long to have him—in every place, in every way. So why did it make you feel like you were going to puke every time you thought about it for too long?

And the question that you and Oscar were still avoiding hung thick in the air. 

What are we doing? The unanswerable question still haunted you.

As good as his touch felt, you knew it was wrong. And eventually, you’d have to talk.

It seemed that you weren’t the only one with that question.

After another night tangled between the sheets with Oscar, he checked his phone. A call from his mother. Fuck.

He had been avoiding her for weeks now. He couldn’t do it any longer.

While you cleaned up in the shower, he finally gathered up the courage and called her back.

“Hi mum,” he greeted as she immediately answered.

“Well hello, son. It’s nice to finally hear from you,” Nicole replied, her voice tinged with annoyed sarcasm.

“I’m sorry. There’s just been a lot going on.”

“I know. I talked to YN a while ago.”

“Yeah, I told her she could tell you. She’s, um, been helping me out a lot lately.”

“That’s good. How is she doing?”

“Oh, great,” he said. It was true. Oscar was making sure you were well taken care of, to say the least. 

“Been spending a lot of time with her?” his mother asked, bringing his thoughts back down to earth. 

“Yeah, she’s been helping me a lot with the apartment. I’m probably gonna sell it, but all the paperwork is ridiculous. I don’t have the time of energy for any of it,” he sighed.

“That’s not what I was getting at, Oscar.” He could hear his mother’s frown through the phone. 

“What?”

“You seem to have her around quite a lot for a man who’s newly single, don’t you?”

“It’s not like that, mum.”

“Oscar, do not lie to me.”

He sighed. “God, mum, I am not with YN! I would never do that. She’s just a friend. Besides, I don’t think I ever want to date again.” 

From behind the closed door of the bathroom, you heard him. You stopped in your tracks.

Nicole refused to give it up. “I raised you better than this, Oscar.”

“Seriously, mum?”

“Under the assumption that you’re being entirely honest, which I know for a fact you’re not, you know damn well how that girl feels about you.”

“How are YN’s feelings my problem?” Your ear pressed to the bathroom door, you heard every word. You thought your legs were going to give out. 

“Son, I know you must be heartbroken. But don’t do that to her.”

“I’m not doing anything. And thanks for asking how I’m doing, mum. A scolding is actually the perfect thing I need after the love of my life just up and left me a month ago.”

“Don’t get that tone with me—”

“I’ve got to go.”

“Fine. Do you think you’ll be able to come home at all before the summer?”

“I don’t know, mum. I’ll call you later.” 

The two hung up the call, and you heard Oscar huff as he put his phone back on the nightstand. You didn’t want to come out of the bathroom. In fact, you didn’t even want to be in this apartment, or the principality of Monaco, or on the same planet as Oscar Piastri right now.

But where else would you go? Your own apartment, the one that he had purchased? Back to his family’s house in Australia?

Where else was home?

Once, you had hoped that home would be Oscar’s arms. All you wanted now was to be held by him. But there was never much tenderness from him after your lovemaking. He always just turned over to the other side of the bed and fell asleep.

And that’s what he did now, clearly grumbling to himself about the phone call, though you didn’t say anything about what you’d heard. 

You sighed, a noise of frustration rather than contention. Oscar just ignored you.

You grabbed your own phone off the nightstand, hoping to distract yourself in work or endless scrolling.

But while Oscar didn’t want to talk to you, it seemed someone else did. Your eyes glanced over the screen:

Accept message request from Lando_Norris?

[plizha]

secretly dating anton but y'all are actually really obvious: headcanons

𖦹 anton x reader, reader uses they/them pronouns!

𖦹 fluff, secret relationship

𖦹 typos + grammatical errors ahead :)

anton carrying your bags, and you consciously giving it to him as if your friends aren't looking at both of you.

"why are you carrying their bag?" friend asks

"he's just being nice" good thing, you're a pathological liar

but anton's not the best at lying nor pretending

anton unconsciously taking a portion of your meal because he knows that you get full easily.

"when did you guys got so close to the point that you eat each other's food?" anton would just stare at them til they drop the topic.

meeting up at the restroom because anton wants to hug you so bad he's tearing up

anton playing with your fingertips under the table

anton accidentally calls you "babe" so he started calling everyone babe

anton looking at you whenever someone's flirting w him. he refuses which makes your friendgroup suspicious about his dating life.

"i'm just- i'm- i'll- um" anton can't lie, unfortunately

"coincidentally" wearing matching fits

"what the hell, 'ton. do you have like a big fat crush on me? why did u wear the same fit" you jokingly said. anton's eyes are shimmering as if he's being hypnotized; he was about to say yes.

anton unconsciously playing with your hair while everybody's busy

"i thought you don't like it when people touch your hair?" they ask you so you're now forced to like it when OTHER people touches your hair

"bab- hey. do you um- can you help me with my stuff" anton can't come up with an excuse to get you out of the room either.

you explaining something to your friends, anton suddenly removing a strand of hair from your face which made everyone freeze.

"what the hell" -- "it's just hair" anton defended

anton UNCONSCIOUSLY giving you the first bite of his sandwich. at this point y'all aren't pretending anymore

sidewalk rule. anton pulling you casually to his side while you're busy yapping w ur friends

anton always asks: "did you skip your breakfast again?" which makes ur other friends wonder if anton would ask about their breakfast too...

"oh this is good" anton instantly taking a sip from ur drink the moment he hears ur reaction.

"you guys just kissed indirectly." - ur friends

"i mean- i don't- that's not true lol. are we kids?" and you gaslighting them

ur friends js watching anton take candid photos of you for like 27x today

acknowledging ur presence the moment u enter the room unless..

.. u arrive together (coz he's always picking u up)

most importantly, the eyes.

anton's eyes never lie. the way he looks at you while you're talking, the way he's always admiring you-- it's already a huge give away

even before you guys started dating, everybody already concluded that anton has a big fat crush on you.

with that, they're now thinking that anton finally got together with his crush

though you guys think that y'all are hiding it so well

[joeldarling]

hii! could you do an oldman!joel and reader (the flu) but joel is the one who's sick, thank youu🤍

The Flu (Joel’s Version) - Oldman!Joel x F!reader

Summary: Based on this request, Joel is sick and reader takes care of him way too well. The Flu (Reader’s Version) here.

Warnings: MINORS DNI! F!reader, mentions of Abby, literally just porn without tons of plot, no reader description, handjob, blowjob, established couple, delicious oldman!Joel.

Word count: 1.8k.

A/N: As usual, English it’s not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any typos. I am literally so thirsty over oldman!Joel that I loved to write this one. In my masterlist you can find more stuff, spicy and soft, obviously. My requests are always open, feel free to chat with me too! 💌

Joel would never admit it, but he was sick.

It was like watching an animal thrashing against death, trying to fight something inevitable, but he got the flu thanks to an extra shift on patrol that night. The extra hours he'd spent in the snow had done their work, and Tommy had warned over the radio that he would certainly be grumpier and in a terrible mood when he got home.

But, well, Joel could be rude and stupid to everyone around him, except for you, and that proved true the moment he stepped into the home, already warm thanks to the wood burning crackling in the fireplace. His nose was red, his glasses were fogged up and he seemed to be shrinking inside his clothes, which made you stifle a laugh. Weeks before, when you had been sick, Joel had been as attentive as possible, taking care of you in every way imaginable—you would do the same for him, your old man needed all the affection in the world, and you were going to make sure he got it.

“I made you tea and there’s sum’ medicine here from the other week.” You said, holding out the cup and the medicine to him. Joel, despite displaying an unmistakable grimace, swallowed the medicine in one go, just as he drank the tea in a few gulps, trying to get rid of it.

“Thank you, darlin’. Ya’ don’t need to worry ‘bout me.” Joel uttered, his voice hoarser than usual as you approached to steal a little kiss from him. His strong, calloused hands quickly went to your waist, holding you with their usual firmness. Usually, when he arrived from patrol, Joel was always hungry, especially from you.

The whole mood was interrupted by a strong cough before he could do anything else and your laughter was inevitable. Joel would have to give in. You hugged him for a few seconds before pulling away completely and held out your hand towards him.

“The bathtub is ready and warm, waiting for you upstairs.” You said, and he couldn't avoid a smile. Joel wasn’t much of an emotional man in front of people and you understood that better than anyone; after all, his eyes were all the necessary answer about how he felt anyways.

“Just like an angel, my sweet girl. I dunno what I did to deserve ya’.” He held your hand, letting you guide him to the bedroom. The whole house was simple, in the Jackson style, but, Joel being Joel meant that some of the wall colors were more vibrant because according to him they matched you better, and the bathroom tiles contained small drawings of marine animals that he himself had lovingly painted for you as a surprise when you first moved in; all the little things that would bring a bit of normalcy to the end of the world.

As they arrived in the bathroom, Joel looked at you, and it was rather obvious what he desired: company for his bath. You helped him undress even though you knew he could do it all himself, and right after, you removed your own layers of clothing, getting into the bathtub with him. You adjusted your body so that Joel could rest between your legs, with his back against your chest, and it wasn't long before you started caressing his hair, a way to relax him as your fingers moved slowly through the graying curls that smelled of the lavender soap you often traded with the neighbor across the street.

He smiled, even though you couldn't see it, sneezing loudly the next instant. The temperature of his skin where the water wasn't touching, especially his cheeks, was quite high, giving Joel an extra rosy color. He would deny it, of course, but you knew he wasn't feeling well.

You hurried the bath a little so he wouldn't be exposed to the cold air that sneaked in through the windows. You helped him dry off; Joel's back always ached, so you were kind enough not to let him move excessively. When you were both out of the bathroom, properly clean and warm, you walked quickly to the bed to fluff the pillows on his side, helping Joel lie down and covering him up.

You laid down beside him and let him settle with his head on your chest, completely needing extra affection and attention. Joel mumbled with his eyes closed, trying to fall asleep, but you weren't feeling not even a bit sleepy. He started to sweat, dampening the t-shirt he was wearing and transferring to the sheets. You would change the bedding the next morning, so you just took an extra look at him. His sleep, when it came, seemed restless, and you weren't surprised when he woke up half an hour later, startled, his heart racing and looking for you.

“Right here, darling.” You said, and Joel's big brown eyes seemed to calm down instantly. He had felt immensely guilty ever since he had saved you from Abby's hands and prevented a tragedy. It was obvious that the girl wanted revenge, but she felt that killing Joel wouldn’t be enough, and beating you to death was the perfect idea to see him suffer the same as she did once. Some scars were still scattered across your body, but most of the time you just chose to ignore what had happened. “Not going anywhere, handsome.”

You joked, and then accepted when Joel approached, stealing a kiss from you; slowly and hungry, as if the cure for that damn flu was right there on your lips. He held your neck, forcing the rest of your body to lie down so he could reach you in the way he desired, and the warm touch against your cold, exposed skin sent shivers down your spine.

“My sweet, sweet girl.” He murmured, and then, his possessive touch traveled down from your neck to capture your wrist, guiding your hand to his cock. You hadn't noticed that he was already hard; even in his sixties, he was completely obsessed with you and every part of your body, and it wasn't at all difficult to please the old man. “Help me. Touch me.”

Joel pleaded. Despite being a man in the fullest sense of the word, he enjoyed it when you were in control and took full advantage, especially when his back ached too much and you rode him for long hours until he was completely buried inside you, filling you with his seeds and saying the dirtiest things possible while looking directly to your beautiful eyes.

“As you wish, old man.” You said, and then held his cock over the fabric of the black boxer shorts Joel was wearing. With a nod, you motioned for him to lift his hips and helped him get rid of the worn cotton fabric, soon you were holding the long, pulsating length in your right hand, slowly massaging it, especially the head, and paying complete attention to his reactions as you spread the pre-cum that leaked out in circular motions with your thumb.

“Just like that, sweetheart, yea…” He groaned, completely surrendered to you. His voice clearly indicated that the flu was still there, but especially because of that, your movements remained slow in a tease, acquiring a tortuous rhythm. “Please, darlin’, daddy needs you to take care of him.”

Seeing Joel beg was a rare occurrence, and perhaps that's why something inside you gave way, almost melting. You moved your hand more quickly, feeling every vein in his cock pulse against your skin, something your mouth knew so well. But even though you were salivating, you would make him cum that way first, and then in all the other ways he desired, until he was completely exhausted by your side just as he deserved.

“You look so pretty begging for me to make you cum, daddy.” You said, a soft, short laugh escaping your beautiful lips as Joel rolled his brown eyes, tilting his hips towards you.

“Keep goin’, sweetheart. I’ll cum for you.” His hoarse voice, more so than usual, was your only motivation. You moaned, completely absorbed in him, feeling your cunt fucking wet just from the fact of having Joel melting over you. “I’ll cum over your pretty little hands ‘n then I’ll do it inside of you. I’ll make your tight sweet pussy milk my cock so well.”

The words seemed to have an effect on both of you. You didn't stop for a moment, feeling Joel getting closer and closer to the edge of madness and about to cum, just as you felt your nipples brushing against the old t-shirt you were wearing, bringing an even more exciting sensation. You swallowed a groan or two, pushing the urge to swallow him whole and suck every drop of his cum deep into the back of your mind.

But you couldn't resist; when Joel was almost there, you moved swiftly between the sheets and tilted your body, swallowing his hard cock completely, taking it deep into your throat.

“FUCK!” Joel exclaimed, gripping your hair with a mixture of wanting to help you and the urge to fuck your mouth in the most brutal way possible. You breathed through your nose as you were used to and moved your tongue, lightly scraping his teeth in a tease, concentrating all your attention on his pink and wet head. You brought one of your hands to his balls, gently squeezing them, and allowed him to bury himself deeper into your mouth as the adjustment of your positions allowed. “I’m comin’... Honey… Ah…”

It came in strong, hot spurts, and you swallowed absolutely everything, loving how his legs trembled and accepting all that he had to give you. When you raised your face again, Joel's cum dripped from your mouth and chin. You wiped yourself with your thumb, the bittersweet taste that had temporarily invaded your palate as delicious as ever.

“You taste so good, daddy.” You said, watching Joel completely out of breath, his chest rising and falling in a completely congested, extremely flu-ridden mess. “But I fear that now it’s time to sleep and you can fuck me by the morning. As much as I want it now, you have to rest.”

It was the truth, and no matter how much he wanted to argue with you, the discomfort of the flu started overwhelming him now that he was completely empty. You lay back down and again allowed him to settle his body against yours, resuming the gentle caresses through his hair and across his back.

“I love you, sweet pea.” Joel mumbled. “But as soon as ‘m fine, ‘m gonna end ya’.”

It was a promise, and you had no doubt about it; in fact, you could hardly wait.

[mixingandmelting]

Hey so how do you think the bat boys would deal with a s/o where they list off a ton of insane injuries that they didn’t go to the hospital for treatment for, you can’t even tell they been through that stuff and it kind of makes you wonder how s/o is still alive after all that? S/o is just casually listing them like you would a grocery list (Jason interesting cuz He did die and was brought back. Dick got shot in head and made an amazing recovering).

A/N: per protocol, a psa/disclaimer - there’s nothing graphic or explicit in what’s written below (it’s literally the name of the injury that’s all) but please do not be like the boys or reader. Seek medical consult, makes the life a whole lot better and easier 😔

Dick:

He would be a hypocrite if he were to call you out right there and then. But his “eldest siblings” bell keeps blaring in his head the more he listens to your list of injuries. 

“So, let me get this straight.” He rubs his temples with two fingers, a familiar migraine faintly throbbing in his head. “You thought it would be fine to NOT go to the hospital and get checked up after falling from a roof despite knowing you had a concussion.” 

“Well, if you put it that way, it doesn’t sound all that great-“ You clear your throat, your eyes shifting away from him when he gives you a pointed look. “Okay, so that might’ve not been the smartest idea. But it was what, the third one I had? I already had a clue what to do so…” 

He’s going to have an aneurysm. Hands down for sure when you simply shrug as if you hadn’t just told him a list of insane injuries he had no idea about. 

Breath, Dick. Breath. It’s you he’s dealing with. His one and only who happens to be prone to getting injured in the worst ways-

Sensing her dad’s distraught, Dick lets Haley jump into his lap before he plops his face in her tummy. 

“Oh, Haley. What are we going to do? Your other parent is a trouble-magnet and hates hospitals. At this point, I’ll become a widower in my mid-thirties.” 

“Hey!” You shout, jabbing a finger at him. “I’m not like you, jumping into toxic gas without protection- widower? Why would you be a widower?” 

It takes a while to finally get him to stop mother-henning you after he follows you around in both civilian and vigilantes to every place you go. But after the bathroom incident, he relents once you agree to have him on speed dial and emergency contact. 

Jason:

“Relatable.” 

Relatable his ass. Sure, he can relate considering all the things he’s been through (prime example: him dying and reviving). But here’s the difference: it’s you. Period. He wants you to be safe, unharmed, and happy. Like, is it really too much to ask? 

Hell, he probably would’ve never thought you’d gone through all that had you not said anything. But,now, everything changed and he didn’t think a day would come for him to, ironically, be the one to tell someone to go to the hospital. 

“Right? Thank you, at least someone gets it!” You don’t notice the blank stare he has, the mug he takes a drink out of obscuring his face. “I swear, people freak out when it’s not that bad.” 

…He needs a beer. And send an apology note to Dick and Alfred. 

“Oh yeah, nagging? Definitely isn’t going to do anything. Just makes you want to do the opposite.” 

“Exactly. I mean I get it, especially if it’s getting both my shoulder and knee dislocated at the same time.” The grip on his mug tightens, a crack starting at the handle. “But, I’m not going to go if someone won’t stop going on and on with ‘oh, you should get that checked, or ‘why didn’t you get seen by a doctor’, you know?” 

Oh, don’t you worry. He knows, alright.

“So, your ankle. I’m guessing you didn’t get that checked.” 

The one and only good thing about your current injury was that you couldn’t dart away like usual. With having sat next to you this whole time as a plus, he’s quick to pull and, mindfully, hold you in the princess hold. 

One thing leads to the next and the two of you are at the manor with Alfred taking a look at your injury. At least you weren’t mad anymore, watching him endure the harassment of bringing over his S/O home. 

Tim:

“You had an injury on your neck but you left A.M.A*!” 

“At least I went to the hospital! Unlike someone here who didn’t after breaking three ribs!”

“Okay, no. You were forced to get admitted, first off. Second, you’re still missing a spleen-?!” 

The two of you have been going back and forth with each other ever since you dropped on him the list (why is it a list??? Why do you have a list???) of insane injuries you never went to the hospital for. 

At first, all he did was, calmly (calmly being the keyword), inform you why going to the hospital would be a good idea in case of future events. And you said sure. When you need to, that is. 

He catches it and calls you out on your poor attempt to BS. You then called him out for his BS. There was a moment of truce that lasted for a minute when Alfred got mentioned. You both shook hands over not to delve into it as you both held affection for the butler and fatherly figure. 

“I was trained to recognize this stuff even before my Robin years! I’m certified for first-aid treatment!” 

“Oh wow, that’s amazing Tim! But who was the one that gave you CPR when you nearly drowned?!” 

He loudly groans, dragging both hands down his face. 

“Then, that’s a bigger incentive for you to get checked up at the hospital, then!” He makes vague hand motions in the air as he starts to pace around. “You get hurt whenever I’m not there and can’t protect you!” 

“… What?” 

In the end, you comfort Tim though it takes a while to talk him out of about a 24/7 personalized bodysuit. You did end up agreeing with the emergency pager to make him feel a bit better, designed as a fashionable wrist watch. 

Duke: 

He closes his mouth. Opens it. Closes it again. Opens it. 

“So… How exactly are you alive again?” 

He simply raises an eyebrow in response to the unimpressed expression you give him. 

“It’s not all that bad-“ 

“Not that bad?” He snorts. “Not that bad? I’m not that bad!”

He jumps up and points both hands towards himself before pointing them towards you. 

“Here I am, dealing with villains left and right which makes sense as to why I get hurt. But, what was it you just said? A stab wound with a knife?” 

“Actually, it was a spoon.” 

“A spoon-???” His voice pitches an octave, cracking in the end. 

For someone so normal, he couldn’t help but wonder how you knew so well on what to do when someone gets injured in the most bizarre ways. Not at all expecting there to be personal lore on how you gained that knowledge. 

In one part, it saddens him at the fact he’s once again the one with common sense. The other? 

He grimaces. 

It…actually checks out. Because it’s a rule written by the universe that vigilantes are not allowed to fall in love with someone normal. And though you are normal for the most part, this? This definitely checks the box on meeting the requirement. 

“Why did you get stabbed with a spoon in the first place?” 

Oh no. You’re awkwardly laughing. 

Some time passes and he’s shopping with his mom for office supplies. As she looks over the Manila envelopes, he notices a particular large roll of bubble wrap. So, when he’s asked as to why he’s buying three rolls of it, he gives the classic excuse of needing it for a science experiment. Which, in part, is true considering he’s planning to see if you being wrapped in it will prevent you from getting injured like in the ads. 

Damian:

“What are your parents' occupations again?” 

You give Damian a flat stare. 

It does little to deter him, persuaded that you’re either lying to him or you’ve lived a similar life as him with training in the most extreme conditions and didn’t tell him. 

There’s no other options or explanations to how you could possibly get those injuries, nonetheless a list of them. And he doesn’t know what he’s frustrated more about: the nonchalance of you stating them like reading off items on a grocery list or he wasn’t there and prevented them from happening. 

Not going to the hospital for your injuries, he can somewhat understand. With how terrible Gotham’s healthcare system is and the number of patients that get admitted from criminal activities every day, it’s considered a good day when patients are seen after eight hours of waiting in the ER. 

Lucky you, you happen to be loved by someone who can medically assess whenever. The Batcave has the latest, cutting-edge technology on medical equipment while he, himself, has the medical expertise that’s potentially on par with that of his father’s and Alfred. He’s sure he can provide you treatment better than any hospital in the city. 

“Damian, I’m fine.” You huff, rolling your eyes.  “Besides, it’s nothing compared to last time.”

Does he want to know what happened during this so-called “last time”?

“I think you need to get your brain checked if you’re considering forced-bed rest as ‘nothing’”. He shoves another peeled apple slice just in time when you’re about to talk back. 

That pattern continues for the rest of the day with him nagging you like a tiger parent while feeding you food (he ignores the bit about him sneaking into your room is an invasion of private property). Eventually, later that week, the two of you squabble again after you catch him following you around almost everyday while he argues how you can’t be left unsupervised.