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no-144444 · 19 days ago

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Admin looking for love! - c.sainz

Day 17 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: Why did Alex Albon feel the need to post you on his story as a ‘lonely woman looking for love’? And why did Carlos Sainz dm you after it?

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alexalbon

liked by carlossainz, williamsracing, reallyy/n, and 2,398,234 others

alexalbon: Are you a Monaco man looking for love? Look no further! Presenting Y/n Y/l/n, a lonely woman looking for love! She's a williams marketing manager (and also my assistant sometimes!), she drives a motorbike, and she's super mean but sometimes really nice! (Real enquiries only, don't be a creep please :) @/really/n

user63: I know Y/n is LIVID rn.

reallyy/n: alex albon, I will kill you with my bare hands don't pull this shit with me right now.

lilymhe: DOG HOUSE -> alexablon: COME ON I'M TRYING TO HELP HER -> reallyy/n: Alex start running. -> alexalbon: you're literally in england right now -> reallyy/n: boarding my plane to monaco. -> alexalbon: FUCK.

oscarpiastri: when do we get you back to the psych ward @/alexalbon ? -> landonorris: Don't make fun of your elders, at least let him leave instagram with a little bit of dignity.

georgerussell: Mate, take it down already she's going to hurt you -> alexalbon: I don't know how, she usually does my social media :(

zhouguanyo: awful choice, I posted her once and she took away all internet devices and made me think about what I'd done for 4 hours (aka staring at a wall for 4 hours). -> alexalbon: YIKES Y/N I'M SORRY PLZ

user46: she's so pretty

user97: QUEEN Y/N

user56: thank you alex for these CRUMBS of y/n please make her get on the podium if williams stops fucking around

user267: SHE'S GORGEOUS WTF liked by carlos sainz

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f1gossip

liked by pierregasly, and 567,038 others

f1gossip: Williams CMO (chief marketing officer) Y/n Y/l/n was auctioned off today by none other than Alex Albon. In an instagram post he said: Are you a Monaco man looking for love? Look no further! Presenting Y/n Y/l/n, a lonely woman looking for love! She's a williams marketing manager, she drives a motorbike, and she's super mean but sometimes really nice! (Real enquiries only, don't be a creep please :)

user47: why is she so gorgeous she looks like a fucking WAG liked by carlossainz

user88: Is that not alex's WAG? ->user67: no she just works for williams and they're close.

user99: HOW IS SHE SO PRETTY WHAT

user75: she's such a queen

user33: If i had a face like that I'd be a model! -> user22: RIGHT? LIKE SHE'S SOOOO GORG

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You knocked on Alex's door with as much force as you could. Why the fuck would he post that? It was all over the internet- you were all over the internet. Every F1 gossip page was shipping you with some random driver, or some random f1-adjacent celebrity. You were livid, and rightfully so. He had no reason to do anything like this, to pull a stunt like that. Honestly, you could just kill him-

"Hello?" Alex grimaced as he stared at you. He knew all hell was about to break loose.

"Alexander Phillipe Albon Ansusinha," you spoke calmly, too calmly. His stomach turned. "Give me your phone."

he handed it over, no question, no hassle.

You quickly deleted the post, deleted instagram, then turned his phone off completely. From inside your bag, you handed him a nokia flip phone. "It already has everyones numbers on it. Don't fucking try to buy a new one, or else I'll freeze all of your cards. Understand?"

He nodded, accepting his fate. "Understand."

"Don't ever pull some shit like that again, alright?" you scolded.

He nodded, his head down. "I got some responses..." he mumbled after a few seconds of silence.

"Alex-!" you were completely prepared to fully scream at him, but suddenly the door behind you swung open and revealed Carlos Sainz. He looked dumbfounded by the two of you and went red. "I'm sending you for 4 weeks worth of mandatory PR training," you turned back to Alex. "I'm so sick of your shit. Between this and Franco's inability to keep it in his pants, I'll be backlogged till Christmas. Just stop causing trouble, ok?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Ok."

You turned back to Carlos. "Sorry about the noise."

He shook his head. "No, that's alright."

"Did you need something?" Alex asked.

Carlos shook his head, his eyes trained on you.

You. He'd seen you around the paddock for years. He'd watched you from afar, unaware of his growing feelings for you until they sucker-punched him in the face about 4 months ago when he was visiting the williams HQ to finish up the contract signing, and there you were in that gorgeous black dress. He couldn't even talk to you. It was embarrassing.

"Alright, well, goodbye Alex, bye Carlos," you smiled at the both of them (the smile Alex got was a bit more disingenuous than the one you gave Carlos) and off you went.

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He knew he had to do something before someone else swooped in. He knocked on Alex's door, more nervous than he thought he'd be.

"Hey Carlos-" Alex smiled.

"Is Y/n single?"

Alex smirked. "She is, yeah."

"May I have her number?"

"Yes Carlos," Alex has the smuggest smirk he'd ever seen. "Yes you may."

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It had been quite the day. You'd been catching up with friends when Carlos fucking Sainz texted you, and then you were on your way to a date with him.

What a fucking day.

You finished up you makeup just as the doorbell rang, and you smiled when you opened it. There he was, standing there with a big bunch of flowers and a goofy smile.

"Hi," you smiled. "Come in."

"Hi," he smiled back. "I got these for you."

He handed over the flowers and you grinned at him. "Thank you, that was very thoughtful."

"Pretty girls deserve pretty flowers," he shrugged.

You felt the butterflies in your stomach go crazy, and you absented yourself to put the flowers in water.

"So, what do you like to do?" He asked, coming up behind you.

"I like films, I like to ride my bike, I like reading, I like motorsport, I like a lot of things. You?"

"Well, I love motorsports, obviously, and I love golf as well," he smirked at the way you grimaced. "Not a golf fan?"

"It's just a little bit boring for me," you admitted. "I do play tennis and padel though. And I played volleyball back when I was in college."

"Well, I guess I'll just have to make you like golf," he smirked.

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reallyy/n

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz, alexalbon and 798,374 others

reallyy/n: alex albon-> part time f1 driver, full time matchmaker apparently. happy 6 months @/carlossainz (still hate golf btw)

limited comments.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi

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vellichor-of-the-solivagant · 10 days ago

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Like Birds on a Broken Branch | 1

Monster! Task Force 141 X F!Reader

Drabble / Masterlist

Preface

Females have begun to decline as swiftly as time has, and that was when males of all races, began to become desperate. This led to women being collected at birth and sold at auction, and they gradually became one of the most coveted items.

Despairing to keep what have to become sacred treasures across the land hidden, parents started to hide their daughters.

You are one of them.

Until, what you had always thought your last hope, the Government issued a large-scale raid for women, and forced you out of hiding, thrown into the house of four powerful monsters.

Context Warning: NSFW! Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dub-con/ Non-con, Fingering, Murder, Author's Poor Attempt in Dark Fic, Monsterfucking, Mentions of Slavery

Disgusting, filthy, bottom crawlers.

That was the first thought that came to your mind as the Shadow Company of the Government raided your once safe haven. Your body trembled before them as though you were heaved into a freezing lake, left to die. Your breathing was heavy as though you went for a track. Your sweat coated every inch of your skin.

But the cleaver knife and gun in your hand said otherwise.

Heads and hearts exploded each time a deafening noise echoed in everyone's ears, blocking all sounds, but not yours. All you could hear was the beat of your heart, telling you never to stop.

Each second was enough time to burn down another one's story. However, this was the beginning of your tale.

When all you could see was crimson, when all you could hear was the echo of your heart and the clinking of bullet shells, light shone from behind. And you staggered forward, feeling a scorching heat from your stomach and chest, where blood oozed out which never seemed to come to an end—the sign of your freedom already stolen.

In a blink, gone.

After all, a story never begins with one who already has everything.

It was impossible to block out the stifled sobs of all the women around you, even if you had tried cupping your hands over your ears and closing your eyes.

Just like you, who had fought for your freedom, but to no avail, they were captured a week before. However, you couldn't bring yourself to cry. More than anything, you were tired . . . and mad.

You had been shot twice before your capture, and the bullets the Shadows used were laced with poison. Normally, that would only be used to neutralize monsters, but seeing how you murdered people just to escape, the leader must have realized you were more than what you appeared to be.

That, and the fact that only women can bring life to this godforsaken land, were the reason why men and monsters decided to make them their toys. But these women had long lost their will to live their life the way they wanted. The sparks in their eyes that were said to be the undisputed magic which always brings men to their knees, were now gone.

You couldn't exactly pity them when you were about to experience the same. In fact, you were already in the same state as they were: stripped naked for every goddamned eye to see.

Your name echoed in the corridor, and one of the men, standing guard, dressed in all black, grabbed your arm. He pulled you up to your feet and whispered to your ears, “You better behave out there,” he tightened his grip as he dragged you. “Graves won't hesitate to put another bullet on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “We all know I will fetch a great price. You wouldn't want to lose a large sum of money, don't you?”

“Threatening my Shadows again?” A silvery voice emerged from the darkness, taking the form of a man with slicked-back, blond hair, dressed in the finest suit you had ever put an eye on.

Phillip Graves was a monster—a bloodsucking leech in human clothing, leader of the monsters you had blasted a hole in when they rampaged your home, and the very one to make it even by shooting you and capturing you.

He flashed a small smile at you, condescending enough to make your blood boil. He took you from his subordinate, arm snaking around your waist, and pulling you close to him.

Your breasts planted on his chest, making it appear more ample, and on your stomach, you could feel something hard. A grimace appeared on your face and a shiver ran down your spine as his hands traveled from your waist down to your ass. His fingers slowly went south through the gap of your thighs. You loathed this feeling, the cold touch of his calloused fingers, his hard grip, and the strong scent of his cologne mixed with rust—with blood. But if you retaliated, he would break your bones, over and over again, knowing that you could heal faster than most.

And this sadist wouldn't hesitate to take your virginity himself before selling you to others, like a toy that he had already gotten tired of.

“You sure you don't want me to take you?” Phillip leaned down, planting an open-mouthed kiss on your shoulder. “I can delay your show and we can have some time.”

“No,” you grunted, turning your head to the side, eyeing his servants who watched the movements of Phillip’s hands running over your body.

A chuckle escaped his lips, inhaling your scent as his nose trailed to your temple. “A shame,” he whispered, his sharp fangs grazing your skin, fingers caressing your folds, already slightly soaked.

You bit your lip to hold back the noise threatening to escape from your lips.

He stepped away from you and watched you immediately try to cover yourself with your arms. But oh, you foolish little bird, he could still see every inch of you.

He would take you, sure, if that was what you wanted. But good sex was nothing to a good sum of money. He can buy or rent any woman he pleases, with the price he could get from you. Besides, there were acquaintances of his who wouldn't want a woman who had already been touched.

Plus points, you were educated.

Cons: you fucking know how to kill.

Wherever the fuck you learned to do that.

He brought his fingers to his lips, licking away your fluids that grazed his fingers. “Well, let's get going.” He smiled and took your wrist, like a misbehaving dog on a walk park now being dragged home.

His hand swiped the curtain open and you squinted your eyes, blinded by the overhead lights, until you finally adjusted to the brightness, which followed you and Graves as you climbed up the stairs of a platform. Shame brought your body to flame as every gaze shifted on your naked flesh, chatters that sounded like static echoed endlessly in your ears.

From there, all you desired was for everything to burn.

John Mactavish leaned forward from his seat, bright blue eyes raking upon every inch of your body, but what caught his attention was the condescending look on your eyes, which declared every man in your sight lower than vermins walking on this land. Then, your eyes settled on Mactavish as Phillip Graves began your brief introduction to all the monsters inside the auction, and seemingly to judge his entire existence, he felt himself wanting more of your attention, of whatever you speak. He felt the desire in your gaze, the hunger for eradication.

Oh, you would look glorious sitting on his lap, bouncing up and down on his dick as you please, until you suck him dry. John felt his dick hardening, brushing against the fabric of his pants. He turned on his seat, facing Jonathan Price, whom they considered the leader of their hoard, but before he could utter a word the same man spoke.

“I like this one,” Price declared, making the other two on the same table as them, shift their gazes at him. Price took a long drag from his cigar before he continued. “She reminds me of the time when women stood proud and confident. We barely see that kind of spark in the eyes of females anymore, and I’d like to bring that spark into nothing but a speck of ash.”

“You’re a sadist, Price,” a man in a skull mask remarked, voice low and gruff, snapping his head back as the bidding started, each time a monster spoke, the price got higher.

Price turned his head to the man, his eyes glowing gold like a flame imprisoned within. “Nothing shall burn brighter than my fire, Simon.” He pulled a smirk on his lips, sharp fangs glinting, and motioned at the other one among them, raising his hand. “Kyle, would you please?”

However, before Kyle could raise their designated number, Graves raised a hand, bringing silence to the room, and he began, “Most of you might think that she is just a human, but let me show you something that would assure that she was the most valuable one we have ever had in a hundred years.”

You snapped your neck at Phillip, frowning at his face until his fingernails became dark and sharp like the claws of a wild beast. With a swift movement, his nails dragged on your arm, making you wince in pain, and blood began to run down. Each plop of blood on the floor made monsters gulp and each centimeter of the wound closed made monsters rise from their feet.

Even Phillip Graves had a hard time resisting the sight of blood and forcing himself on you for the sake of money.

Who wouldn’t want a woman who can take this much damage? Who wouldn’t want a woman who would ensure their offspring would come out stronger?

Then, a booming laughter echoed across the sea of yells, surfacing among others. Just as you turned to see where it came from, a flash of yellow came into your sight, and you leaned back, your heart leaping to your throat when a man towered over you.

Not a man. A monster.

Devil's incarnate.

Sharp horns sprouted from his forehead. On his back, a pair of leathery wings unrolled and a thick, scaly tail slapped Graves away from you before he could complain. And with a single sniff, a huff which brought the smell of smoke up your nostrils, Price’s eyes flashed gold.

“We’re bringing you home.” He pushed his lips onto yours, scaly hands wrapping around your waist, sharp claws scraping your skin. You tried to push him off, but one of his hands grabbed your hand so tight you thought your bones would break.

You whimpered against his mouth, making him chuckle and bite down on your lower lip, his fang piercing through the fragile skin. You tasted blood on your tongue and so did he as you were heaved up, forced to wrap your legs around his waist. Your cunt brushed onto the harsh fabric of his pants and the growing tent between them.

You bit back a moan and pulled away. “Stop—” But his hand pulled you back into his fervent, disgusting kiss. He left his marks on the expanse of your collarbone, then down to the valley of your breasts, leaving open-mouthed kisses as he reached on your head, pulling on your tresses.

It made you turn your head and you watched three other men get on the platform as well—one who appeared to be the most normal-looking among them, giving two cases of money to Graves, who didn’t seem much pleased after he was shoved off stage.

And before this very crowd, you were brought back the curtains and to God knows where.

May we all have seats reserved in hell already.

Next Chapter / Archive of Our Own

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goldenroutledge · 2 months ago

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champagne problems

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: you catch lando’s eye at an art auction in monaco, so he challenges you to a friendly competition for one of the paintings. little does he know, you’d stop at nothing to get it. inspired by this request.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, illegal things vaguely mentioned, gossip girl au

a/n: thank you to @monzaaasharl for letting me use the request! based on events from gossip girl s6 ep6 but can be read without seeing the show! it is mentioned the reader is chuck’s stepsister, à la serena van der woodsen 🥂

lando norris masterlist

The reception was glamorous. Everything you would expect at an event like this, in a place of this caliber. Monaco was one of a kind that way; tuxedos were tailored to perfection and designer gowns flooded the room. The people adorning them certainly had the bank accounts to match.

For you, these scenes and crowds weren’t out of the ordinary. You’d been a part of them for many years at home in New York City. Sometimes alongside your mother at parties where her husband, and one of the city’s richest businessmen, commanded everyone’s attention.

The name Bart Bass spoke for itself, for better and for worse. You could only be so lucky that you were a teenager when your mother married him years ago.

Your step brother Chuck was not as lucky, being the one and only son of Bart’s. Under the weight of the Bass name, he could only hope to change the legacy that had been left for him. One that wasn’t tainted by duplicity and deceit.

If you could help him change that even a little bit, you would. It wasn’t a lonely effort either. Your entire friend group seemed to stick together in defining moments like these. When Chuck discovered a trail that would lead to the exposure of his father’s illegal business practices, there was no hesitation in your offer to help.

Bart often got away with any and everything, always facing little to no consequences for his wrongdoings. Paying off associates or officials using tens of millions in hush money was hardly a dent in the bank to someone like him.

Tonight, all of that could change. The justice you were looking for was right here in Monaco; a thin piece of microfilm enclosed in the back of a 1998 Richard Phillips painting being auctioned off tonight. Titled— The Spectrum.

On the film were numbers, nearly too small to see with the naked eye, that directly incriminate Bart in an illegal business deal. With a favorable social status and a hefty trust fund in your name, your logic tells you that it’s crazy to get wrapped up in all this knowing that if Bart finds out, he would likely turn your mother against you.

But your conscience reminds you just how many lies and just how much loss your family has endured at the hands of Bart Bass.

The soft touch of Nate’s hand on your shoulder interrupts your daydreamy stare into a flute of champagne. He’s out of breath and looks slightly panicked.

“Bart knows we’re here for the painting.”

“What?!”

“But Chuck’s following Bart’s guys, he won’t let them get near it.”

“The bidding starts in 10 minutes!”

“He won’t get here in time, it’s up to us. Think you can handle it?”

You give your best friend a knowing smirk, one that he returns.

“I know I can. These people may be rich as hell but Chuck would give his right arm for that microfilm. I won’t back down to anyone who bids on it.”

Your eyes flicker over to the painting, before they lock with a pair of blue ones across the gallery. He offers a subtle smile before turning his attention back to the painting. Whoever he was, he seemed to be a little too interested in the piece for your liking.

In a room full of deep pockets you knew you wouldn’t win a bidding war without a fight, but the challenge made it all the more entertaining. You turned to Nate, whose phone started ringing with a call from Chuck.

His eyes searched yours for reassurance and promise that you’d execute the plan.

You smiled at him, embracing your inner confidence mixed with a little liquid courage. “Answer him, I’ll take care of this.”

He nods, chuckling slightly as he follows your line of sight to the man admiring the painting. “Good luck.”

Lando fixated on the beautiful hues of The Spectrum. Though he can admit that the art doesn’t hold a candle to the woman that caught his eye across the room. He couldn’t tell if he was blinded by her smile or the sparkle of her dress, catching subtle glimpses of her throughout the evening.

His trance was broken by the soft clicks of stilettos inching closer and closer towards him, though the sounds were muffled over chattering guests and classical music.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? No wonder you’ve had your eyes on it all night.”

Lando’s head turned towards the woman’s voice, cheeks warming as he recognized you instantly. He wondered if you had been noticing him too, or at least knew who he was. Lando smirks and takes a subtle step closer to you.

If you weren’t about to psych him out of bidding on the painting, you’d be enamored by the scent of his cologne.

“Can’t help it, I’m naturally drawn to beautiful things.”

“Well, I guess you’re in the right place because this room is full of them.”

“That it is.” He teases, holding your eye contact while taking a sip of his drink.

“It’s almost impossible to find something I like best, but I think this one will blend in perfectly with the rest of my collection. Do you collect?”

“Art? No, I don’t collect art.”

“Then what is it you collect…?” Your sentence fizzles, realizing you hadn’t exchanged names.

“Lando.”

“Okay Lando, what is it you collect?”

He raises his eyebrows, almost surprised at the question, but chooses to be coy.

“Cars.”

“So then what brings you to an art auction?”

He shrugs in response. “Is it my turn to ask questions…?”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n, what brings you to this auction?”

“I already said, my collection.” You smile, matching his coyness. If he wanted to be short and sweet, two could play at that game.

“Which is…?”

“In my apartment. In New York.”

“Wow, long way from home. You wouldn’t happen to be in need of someone to show you around, would you?”

“Not really, I’m just here for the painting.”

“Maybe you came for the painting, but I could give you a reason to stay.”

You roll your eyes at his flirty attempts, ultimately brushing him off. “And what reason would that be? A private tour of your car collection?”

“You’d be surprised. What happens if I decide to take home the Richard Phillips myself?”

“You mean if you’re able to outbid me for it?”

“Trust me, I’ll be fine.” Lando assures. “I promise I’ll let you come over and see it.”

“No need. The painting is what brought me here, remember? There’s no way I’m leaving without it.”

Maybe it was the competitor in him, (it probably was), but seeing you get more and more eager about the work of art fueled something inside of him. Sure, the gentlemanly thing to do would be to step aside and let you have it. But where was the fun in that?

“You mean the painting that you only noticed about 5 minutes ago? If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were using it as a cover to come over and talk to me.”

“Forgive me for sounding rude but… who are you?”

“I don’t just collect cars, Y/n. I‘m a Formula One driver.”

Your unimpressed stare makes him feel like an idiot, once he quickly realizes that maybe you really don’t have an ulterior motive.

“In any case, The Spectrum will look much better decorating the halls of my apartment than it will look collecting dust in your bachelor pad. It’s not like you’ll even be at home to enjoy it.”

“We’ll see about that-” Lando continues, before the bid caller starts introducing the pieces of art, the Richard Phillips being the crown jewel of them all.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if we’re ready to begin, I’d like to start the bidding for the Richard Phillips at $500,000.”

Lando raises his bidding paddle immediately, quick reflexes and all. “500.”

“I hear $500,000, going once..”

“520!” You respond, before lowering your voice so only Lando can hear your next statement. “You may be an athlete but I promise this is a race you won’t be winning.”

“Lucky for you, I’m up for the challenge.” He teases, raising his bidding paddle once more. “540!”

“560!” You announce with confidence, eyes shooting daggers at the man beside you.

Another guest made a bid for 570, prompting Lando to bid 580.

“580!” The announcer calls. “Do I have 600?”

“$750,000!” You shout, turning heads.

Oddly enough, your bid inspires others to chime in also. There had to be something about what they wanted to prove to everyone else in the room— there was always someone richer in Monaco.

Lando certainly looks at you in disbelief, wondering how far you’ll take this. “Oh, now you’re just showing off. You only want the damn thing because I do anyway!”

“Oh please, don’t flatter yourself. This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Then why do you want it so bad?”

“It would be a nice treat for my family and I, that’s all.” Your eyes flicker around the room to the other bidding paddles, the number climbing quickly. “What’s it to you? Why do you want it so bad?”

Lando shrugs, raising his paddle to bid $920,000. “It’s for a good cause.”

“920… Going once, going twice…”

“1 million dollars!” You shout, looking around the room, daring anyone to exceed your bid.

Lando’s mouth hangs open and for a second he almost wants to challenge it.

But then he imagines the heart attack it would likely give his business manager to see a surprise million-dollar charge to his account.

“What?” You question him insincerely. “It’s for a good cause.”

“1 million dollars! Going once, going twice…. Sold to the lady in silver!”

You smile graciously at the applause from the crowd. After all, this was a victory for the charity of the evening. Little did they know you just secured a victory of your own.

Lando sighs. “Well, congratulations. I’m sure your husband will be thrilled.”

“Husband? What are you talking about?”

“That man you’ve been whispering with all night. You said the painting was for your family?”

“Who, Nate?” Your face scrunches up in perplexity, following Lando’s line of sight towards the back of the room where Nate is standing with Chuck, clapping and beaming with pride that everything went according to plan, the painting is yours now.

“Yeah, whatever his name is.”

“We’ve been friends since we were kids. And if you must know, I’m not married.”

Lando chuckles, part amused and part embarrassed that he jumped to conclusions. He reminds himself that he needs to stop doing that.

“And he didn’t send you over here to flirt with me in hopes that I wouldn’t outbid you?”

“He didn’t put me up to anything, I am way above those childish antics! And I’d hardly call any of that flirting.”

“Whatever it was, I guess it worked, didn’t it?”

You smile at him, contemplating your answer. “I suppose. If it makes you feel any better, I promise I have only good intentions.”

“Well either way, I still have to find my mum a new birthday present.” He grumbles, taking a swig of his drink.

Your smile falters and you give his arm a nudge, taken aback by his confession. “The painting was for your mother? Why didn’t you say that?!”

“I’m not sure if anyone’s ever told you this, Y/n, but you’re not that easy to negotiate with.”

“I’ve been told. But for the record, neither are you.”

“If it were me, I wouldn’t have given up the painting. So I don’t hold it against you.” Lando concedes, but starts eyeing you suspiciously. “Although… I still don’t know your motive. I mean all of that drama simply for your art collection which is 4,000 miles across the Atlantic? I don’t believe it. So tell me, Y/n, what’s your motive?”

Lando chuckles at the stone cold stare you give him in return. “It’s only fair, Y/n, I told you mine.”

“Are we in first grade or something?”

By the look he’s giving you, it’s obvious that he’s actually dead serious.

At which you sigh, surrendering to the man’s relentless attempts to get a real answer out of you. Moments prior you did the same to him, except it’s not as fun when the tables are turned.

“The Richard Phillips painting, it belongs to my mother.”

Lando’s eyes widen in disbelief, like a deer in headlights. “You bid a million dollars on a painting you might as well already own?! Fucking hell, why on Earth woul-”

Abruptly, you take him by the arm and escort him away from the main crowd, an action that shocks you both.

But the last thing you needed was for him to blabber out all of your secrets, draw attention to you both and blow your cover in this crowded room.

“Long story short, my stepfather has been involved in some…not exactly legal business practices. And I’m not talking about some common white collar crimes, he makes Madoff look like a fucking Saint. He’s been hiding his proof in the back of that Richard Phillips painting, sort of in plain sight to throw the scent off. My mom’s had that painting in the apartment as long as I’ve been alive. By the time I found out the evidence was in there she had already sold it. My stepbrother tracked it down, and here I am.”

Lando looks like he doesn’t know what to say, equal parts confused and concerned for what kind of danger you might be in or just how deep this all goes.

“There’s not enough time in the world to explain everything but just know that he’s hurt a lot of people, not only my family and I. He deserves what’s coming to him and it starts with what’s hidden behind that painting.”

His heart softens at the look of purpose and conviction in your eyes, understanding that whatever this is, it’s bigger than you and him.

“Well if he’s facing your wrath, I should probably be wishing him the best of luck. Whatever the consequences to his actions, the U.S. government is no match for you.”

At that you let out a laugh, one that’s genuine and full of heart. You can’t even remember the last time someone made you laugh like that, and it was refreshing.

“That’s very sweet, Lando, even if you didn’t intend it that way. I just hope I’m not going to all of this trouble for nothing. I don’t want it to be in vain.”

“It won’t be, you’ll see.”

“How could you be so sure?”

“Just a hunch.” He muses sarcastically, feigning uncertainty.

For the first time tonight you feel appreciative towards him, to the kindness and listening ear he’s giving you, a total stranger until about 20 minutes ago.

The irony wasn’t lost on you that while he was bidding on the art for a gift to his mother, you were bidding on it to repossess evidence that would send your stepfather to prison for the rest of his life, likely devastating your own mother in the process.

“Let me help with your mother’s birthday gift. Please?”

He raises his eyebrows at your sudden offer, wondering how or why you would be interested.

“You don’t need to do that. Aren’t you a little busy with your own family?”

“Somewhat. That doesn’t mean I can’t make it up to you.”

“You won the painting fair and square, Y/n.”

“Please?” You nearly begged, widening your eyes.

Lando sighs jokingly as a way of admitting defeat. “We really are in first grade.”

“See, I knew you’d come around! Art Basel will be in Miami soon, I’ll stay for the whole week if I have to. Surely I can find some amazing pieces for your mother there, I might even find another Richard Phillips painting!”

“I don’t dare underestimate you again.” He quips, raising his glass to you. “I have no doubt that we will find something.”

“We?”

“I’m a Formula One driver, remember? We’ve been racing in Miami for a couple years now, I hope you’re prepared to stay there for the weekend.”

You roll your eyes at his bargain, of course he already has plans laid out for you. “You’re as persuasive as you are slick, Lando.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s not a no.”

“You’re as sharp as you are stubborn, Y/n.”

“You haven’t seen the worst of me yet.”

He laughs, impressed at how you manage to stay one step ahead of his banter. “Just promise me one thing?”

You humor him with an unsure look, knowing you would accept his terms anyway. “What’s that?”

“Don’t get into anymore bidding wars with handsome strangers.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because it’s our thing.”

“Okay, Lando. I think I can agree to that.” You muse, holding out your pinky for him, the two of you subconsciously moving closer into each other’s space. “From here on out, bidding wars will be our thing.”

Lando accepts, but decides to challenge you further. “I’m no lawyer, but I don’t think pinky promises are binding, Y/n.”

You nod slowly in acknowledgement, realizing just how close the two of you are standing now, and how intensely he seems to be focusing on the beautiful features of yours he’s had yet to see up close.

Now that you think of it, you haven’t had a chance to take a good look at him either. His eyes are as captivating as his smart aleck wit that’s been keeping you on your toes from the moment you two spoke.

And in a split second, you forget all that was stopping you from noticing what drew you in to Lando to begin with. Your lips collide with his, the stress and tension you’ve been carrying melting away into the kiss, and he’s certainly eager enough to take it on for you.

Mesmerized by each other, you then forget how the hell you both ended up here, tucked away in a dark room from the art you were just competing for.

Until you do remember that you are still proving a point after all, breaking away from the kiss just a moment too soon and smirking in his face.

“How’s that for binding, Lando?”

He appears amazed, out of breath and slightly shocked that you went there. You, however, were carrying on with ease, your thumb brushing over his lips at the faint stain of your lipstick on him.

“Close enough.” Lando coaxes, this time bringing his thumb to brush against your cheek delicately.

His fingertips may as well have been on fire by the way his touch made you feel red hot, and yours to him. Instead of backing away from the burn, Lando leaned in, giving into temptation and meeting your lips once again.

💌: this is my first time writing for lando! likes, reblogs, comments & feedback is greatly appreciated! thanks for reading <3

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newyorkthegoldenage · 6 months ago

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When Germany surrendered, New Yorkers celebrated into the night. Times Square, May 8, 1945.

Photo: Arthur Leipzig via Phillips Auctions

#vintage New York #1940s #Arthur Leipzig #VE Day #May 8 #8 May #World War II #victory celebration #German surrender #joy

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linkyu · 10 months ago

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tell me about your defense contract pleage

Oh boy!

To be fair, it's nothing grandiose, like, it wasn't about "a new missile blueprint" or whatever, but, just thinking about what it could have become? yeesh.

So, let's go.

For context, this is taking place in the early 2010s, where I was working as a dev and manager for a company that mostly did space stuff, but they had some defence and security contracts too.

One day we got a new contract though, which was... a weird one. It was state-auctioned, meaning that this was basically a homeland contract, but the main sponsor was Philip Morris. Yeah. The American cigarette company.

Why? Because the contract was essentially a crackdown on "illegal cigarette sales", but it was sold as a more general "war on drugs" contract.

For those unaware (because chances are, like me, you are a non-smoker), cigarette contraband is very much a thing. At the time, ~15% of cigarettes were sold illegally here (read: they were smuggled in and sold on the street).

And Phillip Morris wanted to stop that. After all, they're only a small company worth uhhh... oh JFC. Just a paltry 150 billion dollars. They need those extra dollars, you understand?

Anyway. So they sponsored a contract to the state, promising that "the technology used for this can be used to stop drug deals too". Also that "the state would benefit from the cigarettes part as well because smaller black market means more official sales means a higher tax revenue" (that has actually been proven true during the 2020 quarantine).

Anyway, here was the plan:

Phase 1 was to train a neural network and plug it in directly to the city's video-surveillance system, in order to detect illegal transactions as soon as they occur. Big brother who?

Phase 2 was to then track the people involved in said transaction throughout the city, based on their appearance and gait. You ever seen the Plainsight sheep counting video? Imagine something like this but with people. That data would then be relayed to police officers in the area.

So yeah, an automated CCTV-based tracking system. Because that's not setting a scary precedent.

So what do you do when you're in that position? Let me tell you. If you're thrust unknowingly, or against your will, into a project like this,

Note. The following is not a legal advice. In fact it's not even good advice. Do not attempt any of this unless you know you can't get caught, or that even if you are caught, the consequences are acceptable. Above all else, always have a backup plan if and when it backfires. Also don't do anything that can get you sued. Be reasonable.

Let me introduce you to the world of Corporate Sabotage! It's a funny form of striking, very effective in office environments.

Here's what I did:

First of all was the training data. We had extensive footage, but it needed to be marked manually for the training. Basically, just cropping the clips around the "transaction" and drawing some boxes on top of the "criminals". I was in charge of several batches of those. It helped that I was fast at it since I had video editing experience already. Well, let's just say that a good deal of those markings were... not very accurate.

Also, did you know that some video encodings are very slow to process by OpenCV, to the point of sometimes crashing? I'm sure the software is better at it nowadays though. So I did that to another portion of the data.

Unfortunately the training model itself was handled by a different company, so I couldn't do more about this.

Or could I?

I was the main person communicating with them, after all.

Enter: Miscommunication Master

In short (because this is already way too long), I became the most rigid person in the project. Like insisting on sharing the training data only on our own secure shared drive, which they didn't have access to yet. Or tracking down every single bug in the program and making weekly reports on those, which bogged down progress. Or asking for things to be done but without pointing at anyone in particular, so that no one actually did the thing. You know, classic manager incompetence. Except I couldn't be faulted, because after all, I was just "really serious about the security aspect of this project. And you don't want the state to learn that we've mishandled the data security of the project, do you, Jeff?"

A thousand little jabs like this, to slow down and delay the project.

At the end of it, after a full year on this project, we had.... a neural network full of false positives and a semi-working visualizer.

They said the project needed to be wrapped up in the next three months.

I said "damn, good luck with that! By the way my contract is up next month and I'm not renewing."

Last I heard, that city still doesn't have anything installed on their CCTV.

tl;dr: I used corporate sabotage to prevent automated surveillance to be implemented in a city--

hey hold on

wait

what

HEY ACTUALLY I DID SOME EXTRA RESEARCH TO SEE IF PHILLIP MORRIS TRIED THIS SHIT WITH ANOTHER COMPANY SINCE THEN AND WHAT THE FUCK

HUH??????

well what the fuck was all that even about then if they already own most of the black market???

#i'm sorry this got sidetracked in the end #i'm speechless #anyway yeah!#sometimes activism is sitting in an office and wasting everyone's time in a very polite manner #i learned that one from the CIA actually

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