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topzsun · 2 days ago

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MISS YOU MORE

── ♡ YUU NISHINOYA

"You heave yourself up a familiar hill that you were sure didn’t take this much energy to reach before. You sit yourself down under the singular tree situated. You keep your posture polite, as if invading the space meant for someone’s ghost. When the popsicle first hits your tongue, you cry."

(i)

Most days, you can shrug off the pain that comes with missing Nishinoya Yuu.

However, when it’s especially sunny out, or you see soda-flavoured popsicles being sold in convenience stores, you are reminded. When you think of your sleepy hometown, you are reminded. When you pass by children aimlessly tossing around a volleyball, you are reminded.

His grin had been infectious. His eyes would crease at the corners and his smile lines prominent. The sun would catch the brown hues of his eyes in time for you to, in that split second, believe you were graced by the presence of a wild deity. However, Yuu is painfully human, as the next minute he bites into his popsicle too quickly and gives himself a painful pause. You can’t stifle your laughter even when he glares at you meaninglessly, because he’s still smiling even at the expense of his dignity. He used to do anything to make you laugh.

When asked, you would say you were still in contact with members of Karasuno’s Volleyball Club. It’s a gross overestimation of the ‘contact’ you still have. They are accounts sitting on your phone, still following with stories unwatched and posts unliked. You were up-to-speed with the fact that Ryuunosuke Tanaka and Kiyoko Shimizu were married. You knew Hitoka Yachi works for her mother’s design company, and that she still meets with Kei Tsukushima and Tadashi Yamaguchi based on pictures together. Asahi Azumane is a rising designer in Tokyo. Hinata Shoyo and Kageyama Tobio made themselves impossible to miss, their names and photos circling the internet and live television on every sports network. The point is that you knew where everyone was, and that was a good enough connection as you can manage. You didn’t need to read the messages Yachi last sent you in 2015. You didn’t need to pay attention to the fact that there was an impromptu group meetup with a handful of alumni just a few months ago. You didn’t need to scroll through Yuu’s untouched Instagram account from a decade ago, his last photo had been a grainy and over-filtered selfie with Tanaka and Ennoshita.

Yuu had, for the most part, completely disappeared from your reach. There was the option to message someone who would know where he was, Azumane and Tanaka being the first to pop into your mind. Yet, terror fills you at the notion, an anxiety that leaves you trembling as you blearily thumbed through the interface of the social media app. You always shut your phone before your impulsive thought reached fruition, and you considered deleting the app entirely if it weren’t for the fact you found comfort in knowing where everyone is, as they simultaneously knew nothing about where you were. Most days, however, it was a rude reminder of the bottom of the rung from which you squander, and the heights they have reached since graduation.

Despite your ever-growing list of regrets, not holding onto Nishinoya Yuu had been your biggest one.

“Let’s get married,” He had said under the glow of the setting sun. The apples of his cheeks were a lovely shade of red and your heart danced in tandem with the leaves blowing past gently. The grass underneath you feels more like a cloud, and you’re lightheaded under the weight of Yuu’s declaration. Not now, you tease him, you haven’t even graduated yet. He sits up immediately, eyes wide and shining as a grin graces his lips.

“So you’re saying we can get married after I graduate?” He wiggles his eyebrows comically at you, and you bat his arm where you lay. Maybe, you had said and he followed your response with a series of kisses pressed against your heated, flustered skin while you squirm and laugh.

If you could go back to that summer evening, you wouldn’t have thought twice before following him straight to the municipal office. Anything to have him in reach, kept him where you could still love him.

(ii)

When your morning begins with the ring of your phone, you do not suspect anything out of the ordinary. Your new manager had become audaciously comfortable in abusing your number at every minor inconvenience—“The numbers just aren’t adding up” or “I have a lot on my plate, go teach the new interns”. So you wait until the fifth ring, a small act of rebellion and spite before you inevitably have to answer to a problem above your pay grade. When it’s Kiyoko Shimizu’s name that pops onto your screen, you nearly drop the device. A blurry contact photo of her Tanaka together, her contact name that is unchanged from when you were in your third year, and the way she does not call a second time. It is her, and not a cruel trick of the imagination. You count to three hundred before you hesitantly press on the call-back function. She picks up on the second ring, and her voice doesn’t burst intrusively into your speaker. Dulcet, as you remember it, with a twinge of something more merry in her tone.

She says your name in fondness and it makes your stomach sink, and when she repeats it a second time you can only nervously laugh.

“I’m sorry, I can just hardly believe it,” And that had been the truth. “It’s so good to hear from you,” You weren’t sure if you meant it. She cheekily corrects you when you tactfully greet her as Shimizu-senpai, and you pretend to be awed by her marriage and congratulate her as if the news isn’t laughably old to you. Reminiscent of old behaviours, she jumps straight to the topic after some idle talk. A reunion, she said, to get as many members of the old team together as possible. An overdue meetup. You are submerged underwater and drowning, unable to claw for air as your throat threatens to collapse. Your mind swam with possibilities, of implications, of everything that can and will go wrong. Who will be there, and what will they want to know? Your carefully crafted isolation is gone, all because you never mustered the strength to cut the last cord tying you to Miyagi. Your silence awards you with another concerned call of your name, and you manage to stammer out an excuse in half-lucidity about your work, schedule, train tickets and anything that could placate your lack of answer now. She pacifies you with a passive, understanding response before promising to check in later and hangs up. It leaves you alone with running tap water, and a glass tipped over in the sink.

(iii)

Miyagi greets you as if it had been frozen in time. You view everything from the same hazy, saturated tint as you were a teenager. The breeze feels colder, there is more life breathed into nature than the city you dwelled in, and glimpses of your memory threaten to peek as you note spots that should be familiar to you.

When your eyes scan over a certain signage, your heart sinks. From an outsider’s perspective, the idea of a convenience store overwhelming you with nostalgia sounds pathetic. Yet it is on Sakanoshita Market’s property where everything happened.

He almost forces the popsicle into your hand despite your string of protests. I owe you one, he had said in relation to last week’s cram study. Your notes saved my life, he insisted though you didn’t exactly feel too great about the fact your notes merely helped him scrape by a passing mark. You don’t rain on his parade, so you gingerly pluck the cold treat from his hand and much to your horror, he bites his own. It was like watching a snake unhinge its jaw as he finished the popsicle within two chomps. When he meets your aghast stare, he smiles cheekily. Efficient, he said and so you take extra care in enjoying the treat and he laughs at your stubbornness.

The bell above the door rings as you enter. You are almost disappointed to find that instead of Coach Ukai’s blonde head of hair, you spy a gangly-looking teenager at the counter. He had been reading something under the table, that much was obvious, but upon the alert of your arrival, he fumbles to stand up straight and shove the source of his distraction away. Whatever he finds on your face, likely no recognition of being his boss, appeases him and he relaxes all the while greeting you politely. He doesn’t bother you as you make a beeline through the aisle, stopping at the refrigerator. You pick up one cola-flavoured popsicle. The cashier boy rings it up but eyes you for a split second for your single purchase. He’s likely not used to older people buying snacks popular with school kids.

When you leave, your feet take you through the grass that cuts the street. You heave yourself up a familiar hill that you were sure didn’t take this much energy to reach before. You sit yourself down under the singular tree situated. You keep your posture polite, as if invading the space meant for someone’s ghost. When the popsicle first hits your tongue, you cry.

(iv)

Your hand hovered over the handle far longer than you wanted to admit. It was the final crossroad in which you could back out, but upon silent admission that this would render your motel costs, your nice dressing, and your taxi ride here useless, you finally push down your wave of nausea.

It’s not Kiyoko who greets you, but Tadashi Yamaguchi who had been conveniently idling near the door in wait for Tsukishima. He greets you politely, a high pitch to his voice you recognise from when he would find you before morning practice followed by the term of respect senpai. Even as your vision began to blur under the intensity of the gold lights decorating the ceiling, your attention was drawn by the pair that came to greet you. You can barely breathe when Kiyoko reaches you because she’s as beautiful as in photos, and when her arms circle around you you feel the bile rise to your throat. Too much. All too much. Yet, you muster a greeting with a smile you hoped reached your eyes, and Yachi is next to follow. She doesn’t hug you, and you don’t think you could handle it right now either, but she beams and grasps your hands without a hint of resentment in her eyes despite the fact you had essentially ghosted her all those years ago. You are led to the living room of the Tanaka household, and you manage to blearily pick up the faces of Sugawara, Sawamura and the man of the house himself, Ryuunosuke Tanaka. The teacher and the officer greet you with warm handshakes and squeezes of the shoulder, and while Tanaka has gotten up from his seat he does not go to give you affectionate greetings like the others. You were not surprised, and yet it still made you want to turn to the door and run. Your name doesn’t leave his lips like a slur, and there is no scowl on his face, and yet you know he has not forgotten. Likely none of them did, they are just better at hiding any animosity. It is when your eyes leave Tanaka’s that you finally pay attention to the other man in the room. Tears threaten to spring to your eyes when you see Asahi Azumane, even more so when the man gives you a gentle smile, but you hold back in fear of causing a scene.

“Not now, just—” You turn away from Asahi’s concerned stare as you briskly attempt to out-walk him. “Not now.”

It doesn’t take him a lick of extra effort to reach your pace, and you feel a spike of annoyance akin to blistering fire. You didn’t like this defiant show of persistence, not from somebody who is usually so gutless in the face of confrontation. You continue to ignore him despite the fact the leather straps of your school bag weigh you down like an anchor.

“This isn’t right, you know this,” He keeps his tone even and placid, even in the face of your growing rage. “He cares about you. A lot. This isn’t fair to you or him.”

You finally spin on your heel, causing the man to stumble slightly at your sudden movement. Your tears are hot, burning even, in the ducts of your eyes but you don’t dare let a single one spill. Not in front of Asahi, who will only be further vindicated that you are making all the wrong decisions. Not even for yourself, who will begin to wonder if they are making the right choice.

“It’s because I care about him that I’m doing this,” You snap and he almost flinches under the force of your voice. “I know what type of person I am. I know what I’m going to become. I can’t reciprocate the intensity of Yuu’s feelings. He deserves to have someone who gives him a high like he gives me.”

You don’t realise your heated retorts have died down to near-desperate begging, not until you're digging your nails into your skin, enough to draw blood. Asahi tries to pry your grip away, but you move before he can reach and he lets his hands fall limply to his sides.

“Don’t you dare say he deserves to be stuck with me just because he happens to care. He’ll get over it, and he’ll find someone better. I’m not ruining his life by dragging him alongside the monotony of mine,” You finally meet the brown-haired man’s gaze from when you hung your head, and your glare burns and the fire spreads. “Do you get it now?”

You are seated down, sandwiched between an almost-doting Kiyoko and frantic Yachi as snacks and conversation are passed around. You are asked the expectant questions—How are you, what are you doing, what’s changed? You answer the questions to a degree that should tame any further curiosity, though take care in leaving out unsavoury details. This was only an impulsive trip. After this, you will go home, delete their contacts and finally free yourself from Karasuno, Miyagi, Yuu and all the memories left behind.

The door opens and you suspect Ennoshita or the like to arrive, as Hinata and Kageyama already confirmed their absence due to their busy schedule. Nothing could have prepared you for when Nishinoya Yuu walked in as if he owned the place. It’s the same spiked hair that your hands used to find purchase in. The same slanted brown eyes that would make your heart quake in your chest. Worst of all, the same grin that haunted your memory. When his eyes fall on you after his loud greeting, you can feel the earth cave in.

(v)

The universe, unfortunately, did not end upon Yuu’s arrival. His gaze had quickly shifted from you to the remaining attendees in the house and the lack of acknowledgement made you feel like a first-year again, standing with your back to the gymnasium wall as your sense of person is reduced to dust in the face of much fiercer personalities. You don’t know what you had expected. He wasn’t going to kick up a fuss in the middle of a reunion, and that’s assuming he even cares about you anymore at all.

Which answer would have been more satisfactory? The one where your teenage self got what they wanted—a Yuu who has moved on and no longer cares for them? Or the one present you guiltily wished for—that he cares, that he thinks of you as often you do him, that he hasn’t gotten over you?

With the last guest’s arrival, you all are moved to the dining room, where dinner is prepared. The delectable smell wafts in the air, and excitement grows. You momentarily perk up at the prospect of a homecooked meal that wasn’t your subpar cooking, but you are immediately tense when Yuu brushes past you with a brisk “whoops, sorry.” This is a casual interaction. There is no tremor in his voice, no avoidant glances. It’s akin to two strangers passing each other on the street.

You want to go home. You want his attention. You want to run. You wish he’d say your name again.

The conversation picks up as everyone eats, and you are still kept in between the two ex-managers while Yuu sits on the opposite side but from the furthest vantage point from you. Judging by the passing glances you had gotten when he arrived, you had a feeling this seating arrangement was purposeful. You don’t tact on to the discussions but try to smile and laugh when appropriate so it doesn’t seem like there is something totally wrong with you. At least you managed to gather that Yuu is currently travelling, and you have to bite back your smile when you recall the nights he used to call you and explain his dreams of seeing the world.

Within the hour, ceramic dishes and steel utensils clink together and everyone begins to disperse with the grand idea to watch a few films together over drinks before ending this event. Tsukushima quietly gestures towards his departure with a curt explanation of morning practice when Tanaka hounds him. You realise this is also your only chance at escaping without too much awkwardness. You arm yourself with a list of excuses—sorry, I have to check out early tomorrow. I have a morning work call. I’m still a bit light-headed from the train ride.

Nobody questions you further when you say your general, tentative goodbyes along with an extra minute of gratitude for the Tanaka household’s hospitality (Ryuunosuke’s gaze even seemed to soften when you turned to thank him). You are out the door before you can make selfish eye contact with Yuu, your coat tossed over your figure as you depart with nothing but a sheepish wave.

The night chill hits you in full force, and you shiver as you quickly attempt to find warmth in the rapid friction of your palms. You are not more than just a few steps out the front lawn when your name is shouted, the syllables rolling off a familiar tongue with so much nostalgia it feels sickening. Nishinoya Yuu is broad-shouldered with a sports jacket messily pulled over his figure and calling for you as if you both are seventeen and he’s letting you know one more time that he loves you before walking his half of the way home. You pause where you stand, you let him catch up, and you let him stand close enough that you can recite every minute detail of his face. A decade wasn’t enough, you realise somberly, to shake away your utter adoration for him.

He grins and asks if you want to get popsicles in the middle of the cold. Crazily enough, you agree.

(vi)

He regaled you with stories of his travels under that tree, from when he lost his hotel keycard in São Paulo and had to spend the night on the lounge chair because the staff couldn’t replace it in time, to when had gone fishing in Colorado River and fell of his boat when he got too excitable about his catch. You couldn’t stop your laughs, and he was only encouraged to continue with an eager beam. By the time you catch your breath, you find him leaning back on his hands with a smile so earnest that it makes you feel like you are seventeen and in love again. You grow nervous when he proclaims it's your turn to fill him in on the details of your life and the peace of the moment crumbles under his expectant stare. With the way you left him and the way he’s treating you as if you didn’t break his heart all those years ago, you felt obliged to be honest.

Shuichi Toyama began as your co-worker. He didn’t enter your life in a hurricane like Yuu did, but he did leave behind a disaster once he closed the door.

He asked you out and with you having been off the dating scene since high school, you agreed with some reluctance. The first date turned out fine, better than the awkwardness you first expected, so you let him take you out for a second. Then a third. He asked you to be his, and you agreed without paying note to the premonition behind his wording (Yuu always used to brag that he belonged to you).

It was comfortable. Stable. On good days Shuichi felt like a friend, and that was your first warning that you mistook security for love. He proposed a year later during a fancy dinner date, the restaurant overflowing with patrons. When the pastry chef brought out a slice of cake, moist and carefully decorated with your name, all you could think about was the eyes on you and how much money Shuichi must have spent on this proposal. You agree and something prideful crosses your now fiance’s expression.

A few months after you are wed in a fanciful ceremony with your attire to the decorations hand-picked by your mother-in-law, the cracks in your relationship begin to show. Late arrivals home, heading straight to bed after work, no ‘good morning’ or ‘I love you’ uttered. A year later you catch him in bed with his co-worker he swore to you not to worry about. It’s a sight to see when he struggles to pull up his pants, racing after you as you lock yourself in your car. He keeps a firm grip on the handle as he pleads for you to reconsider. He’s sorry. He didn’t mean for it to happen. It was a lapse of judgement. You listen to the excuses bemused, but you can’t help the tears that sting your eyes. Time with Shuichi had been wasted time, and you could have done so much and been so much without him. Yet, your mind tracks back to Yuu. This must be how he felt when you left, and it comes with a realisation of shame that you were no better than Shuichi. When your neighbour’s young children emerge from the front door to play, you unlock your car and follow your husband back home to spare them the sight of a half-naked man begging in the driveway. Maybe this is what you deserve.

He only kept his promise for two months, then while doing the laundry you find a lipstick stain on his collar that did not belong to you. A normal person would have packed their bags and tossed the stupid shirt at him without looking back. You toss it into the washing machine and go back to the rest of your chores. You don’t bring it up even when he comes back home almost four hours late, drunk and smelling unusually floral. You tell him his food is in the oven, and head to bed.

You let the cycle run its course for another few months until he breaks a plate during an argument about one of your neighbours catching him leaving a woman’s house in the early mornings. You had yelled at him to at least keep his infidelity under warps so that you aren’t embarrassed in the process, and he screams about why you aren’t angry that he’s cheating and more concerned for your reputation. When the ceramic dish hits the kitchen floor and shatters, you go quiet and stare. He’s the one who packs his bags this time, and you don’t implore him to stay. After that, you do not see Shuichi without a lawyer and you eventually lose rights to the house and most of your savings you mistakenly put into a shared account. You quit your job with no available living accommodation and no friends whose couch you could crash on while you try to pick up the remnants of your life. You find a job in another city after several nights at a cheap motel and begin to live in a small apartment in a place unfamiliar to you. Your new job pays less, is more demanding and your coworkers don’t take to you. However, it puts a roof over your head and food on your table. Within the silence, all you can contemplate are regrets.

By the time you are finished, there is a fire in Yuu’s eyes that blaze, fraught with rage. He curses your ex-husband without sparing a breath and you have to bite back a smile because it was just like him to get angry on your behalf.

“That sounds rough, I’m so sorry,” He says quietly and despite his awkward wording, he’s practically melting in sincerity and you only shake your head. You almost wished he felt vindicated by hearing this, but that’s simply an insult to the type of person Nishinoya Yuu is. He is never happy in the face of someone else’s misery, he is earnest and sincere, and he cares for others loudly and passionately. You are free-falling, a pit in your stomach that lurches to reach your throat, weightless and doomed. The words leave you before your mind can catch up.

“From all of this, it’s just a constant reminder I fucked up the moment I left you,” His eyes widen at the sudden confession, lips pressing into a straight line as you gaze at him with glassy eyes. “Yu—Nishinoya, I’m so sorry. I know my words can never make up for my actions.”

“Don’t,” His breath leaves him in a shaky exhale as he closes his eyes, “Don’t call me Nishinoya like that. I’m always Yuu to you.”

Tears now freely roll your cheeks and you know you don’t deserve it when he reaches out to briskly wipe them away with calloused hands. They warm your face and he lets his touch linger longer than appropriate even when your sobbing has died down to quiet sniffles.

“You and I were dumb kids. Sure, back then I wanted to scream and chase you down until you changed your mind,” He moves his hand to grasp yours, intertwining your fingers together as he gives you a reassuring and tight squeeze. “But I didn’t hate you for it. I don’t think I’m able to even if I tried.”

His grin takes on a little more sheepish twinge, a contrast to a teenage Yuu who would have urged you to stop taking things so seriously and to get over it. With maturity, he has the patience to sit down and actually talk with you. However, curtness is integral to his personality so he adds on.

“Even though you’re in the habit of catastrophising everything,” His sly remark earns a look of offended bafflement from you, causing him to laugh loudly in return. He brings you to stand alongside him, tugging you from the hill and onto the street. He insists on walking you back to your motel, and promises to pick you up the following morning. Nishinoya Yuu is cementing himself into your life again. You make sure to take extra care of keeping him.

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katerinaaqu · 2 days ago

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Hello! Been a frequenter on your page and I am I’m love with your work. I have a few questions, and I’m hoping you can re-wire the truth of Greek Mythology for me. (Cause some people…..you know) 1. Have Diomedes and Odysseus met before the Trojan War? If they didn’t, did they have general knowledge of the other at least? 2. I’ve heard that Odysseus wasn’t as physically intimidating as the others, (Agamemnon, Diomedes, etc) Is that true? Because sites and docs make Odysseus seem like he is a tiny, little man who likes to ONLY think in his tent and has everyone else do his heavylifting. Does he at least have some military experience? If you had to assign a body type for him, what actor, influencer, or singer would you say, “yeah that’s him.” 3. I know that Odysseus is, at least, in the morally gray side of the universe. Does he have his moments of “honor”, or certain people’s versions of “morally correct?” Does he have moments of selflessness, bravery, or integrity?

And some silly little questions. Since Odysseus is your favorite character, If he walked into a therapists office/physical examination/got analyzed by a classification system, when he walked out, what mental evaluation would have been made. Ex. PTSD, BPD, etc. (I searched on doctor google, and they said maybe he would be on the spectrum of ASPD.) If Odysseus was alive today, would he still be a schemer, liar, etc. Would it be tamed down? Not looking for the mental gymnastics as much?

I adore your stuff, keep on doing you. I hope to see more.

You are a frequenter to my page and you are asking me on how I feel on people drawing Odysseus as a tiny figure or whether I believe Odysseus is brave?! THE HORROR! Just kidding I am a yapper and I love analyzing that! So here we go every point at the time.

As always viewer's discretion is advised because my yapping will be non-stop!!!! XD

I remember answering that question in the past to someone else who was wondering of it. If we follow sources like Apollodorous for example, Diomedes was one of the suitors of Helen's and he was also bound under the Oath of Tyndareus. I suspect that was why Apollodorous wanted to explain as to why Diomedes was in the war to begin with. So under this version, Odysseus and Diomedes met for the first time in Sparta while both courted Helen. However I do side up more with other sources that do not include him because arguably Diomedes is the youngest or one of the youngest kings around and he would be very young to be courting Helen at that time (Even archaic paintings more often whatnot have him beard-less so that means he was in his 20s, maximum early 30s in the war when Iliad takes place, aka the final years so that means he joined when he was somewhere between 18-20 years of age). That also fits since some readings of the War of the Epigonoi in which Diomedes took part in, happened around 5 years before Troy when Diomedes was 14). As per readings Helen's courting happened 10 to 20 (as per Apollodorous extended narrative which again do not find me agreeable for! Hehe) years before Troy. Diomedes would literally be a child at that time. So I think it is more logical assumption to believe they met for the first time in Aulis at the gathering of the fleet. As for whether they knew each other by narrations, possibly. Judging on how the kings spoke to Diomedes about his father Tydeus, means that they had knowledge of him and his war with the other Seven against Thebes so yes I believe they have heard of each other but I do not think they actually met before Aulis. They are a generation apart after all!

Gosh...yeah I see it all the time and honestly I am soooo tired of it (I mean sure art is art and everyone is free to draw what they want but honestly I don't think I have ever seen something more inaccurate than people draw Odysseus like a tiny skinny guy and man ONLY STAYS IN HIS TENT?! Lol the dude was lifting the entire Trojan War if not the Epic Cycle on his back! XD I even made this post a while back:

Odysseus? Really? The guy that stood his ground against behemoth Ajax in their wrestling in the funeral games of Patroclus? (Sure when Ajax managed to take the upper hand for one second, Odysseus cheated and kicked him behind the knee but then they were wrestling again and literally neither of the two could come on top). Or Odysseus that basically made Irus, the beggar and all the suitors back off in wonder when he showed his body during his match against Irus (of whose jaw he broke with just ONE punch)? The guy whose back and thighs were so thoroughly described in the Odyssey that it became ridiculous!? Hahaha right!

Arguably his first description happens in the Iliad, which I am citing in this analysis of mine in the past:

Odysseus is described usually short or average to short of structure and then Homer proceeds to explain to us how he is wider in the shoulder and the chest than Agamemnon who was a head taller than him. He is described that he looks like a ram, as I mentioned to my analysis; an animal sturdy, proud and strong. Odysseus has arguably one of the best physiques out heroes despite his age (which makes one wonder how he was in his peak at the age of 30 or something)

As for whether he sat in his tent all day I think that if there is even one person who said that he hasn't read a single thing on Homer. Odysseus was always in the center of all action of the war. Yes, he does refrain from rushing in battle (In the Iliad for example he kept his troops away from action till it was their right moment to arrive or that he placed himself as almost for last to fight with Hector because yeah he wasn't in the mood on dying that day!) but he was always fighting to the front lines, he was always inserting himself in the events that were happening. He was taking part in secret missions such as the one we see in the Iliad (Diomedes and himself going to counter-spy the enemy field or in the Odyssey how he literally sneaks in Troy, which is linked to the Palladium of Athena heist story).

As I mention to that humorous post of mine; Odysseus literally does almost everything in the war; he was ambassador, he was settling things between kings when they had conflicts, he was fighting first line when he had to (but knew when to refrain from it to assure his safety and the safety of his men, thus suffering the bare minimum losses at war), he kept everyone together when he had to, he captured Helenus and extracted the prophecy from him, he went to get the Palladium himself, he came up with the Horse idea and he was one of the first inside the horse etc. Even in the Odyssey; he conquered Ismarus, he killed the suitors himself, he was ready to fight gods and monsters for his men etc. I think the sources speak on themselves.

Yes he does have military experience. For starters the slaves in his palace are called δμωαί which means "slave acquired at war" so most likely he did some of it himself. Two he has the bow that was given to him as a gift for offering assistance to Messina (although the exact length or nature of it is not mentioned in the Odyssey) and Penelope informs us that Odysseus faced the Taphian pirates before (when she mentions the incident of Antinous's father arriving to the palace chased after and begged Odysseus to save his life). Odysseus definitely has military experience (possibly his military successes made him also king while his father was alive, potentially Laertes recognized his son's talent and retired) but it seems that his military experience was not of a large or extended scale (for example like Diomedes) or of conquering nature (like Agamemnon or Diomedes, the first expanded the influence of his kingdom and the latter conquered Thebes, took control of Argos and regained control of his grandfather's lands for him) but they seem rather of domestic nature, such as the mutiny of the Taphians, an area close to his kingdom or offering assistance to a fellow king without getting too much into detail.

Hmm hard to say that I can find some straight out similarity to Odysseus that is a very good question.

I think though so far the greatest resemblance I could find was Christos Tsagas who played Odysseus in Iphigenia movie in 1977 whom I am mentioning here:

And here:

That was literally my moment of

3. Actually I have referred to the matter in another answer of mine:

As I mentioned to that ask of mine, I think the characterization of "morally gray" for Odysseus at least as far as Homer is concerned is not doing him full justice. Odysseus has no problem recognize right from wrong nor does he make bad decisions without thinking even if he knows is not morally correct. Yes, he oftentimes is ready to cheat (see for example the match of Ajax) and he is capable of twisting his words on certain things but he doesn't seem to be the type of person that consistently breaks the law for the loves of it (now his version on certain post-homeric sources such as the plays of Euripides who was consistently writing Odysseus negatively, or Conon, who is the oldest known version to my knowledge of the story in which he tries to backstab Diomedes) I do not see much to characterize him as such. Perhaps the alleged murder of Palamedes would be one (even if we do not know what the contribution of Odysseus was in the Epic Cycle for sure given how we only know Epic Cyle moments from scholiasts and later sources, but as I said I find it way too complicated matter to characterize him straight out as "morally gray" in general much less for Homer

However I absolutely understand what you mean.

Once again I get disappointed when people always assume that Odysseus is like the dude that would step on you to save his ass and laugh in the night about it when we have literally the lengths to which he went in the ENTIRE Odyssey which I analyze here:

Or how he went to save Diomedes in Rhapsody 11 in Iliad! He literally rushed to his assistance and gave him his chariot and stayed behind to cover his retreat. Odysseus also is named the most pious to the gods and the best when it comes to sacrifices by Zeus himself. He protects his men by literally sacrificing his own body when he was forced to accept Circe's bed and mind you he was ready to face her WITHOUT knowing how to beat her spell. Hermes just happened to be on his way. Odysseus didn't know that he would have help. He literally went towards the unknown, with just his sword at hand, to face an immortal witch without knowing what to do because he cared for his men and he was planning his way through. He was ready to fight Skylla. He also tried to test the suitors so all of them wouldn't need to die. He also scolds his wetnurse for wishing to cry out of joy upon seeing the results of the slaughter.

Even in post-homeric sources we know from Pausanias that Odysseus gave Penelope a choice whether she wanted to marry him or return to her father. So he respected her decision. In Sophocles's "Ajax" he feels sympathy for Ajax's condition and he insists upon giving him a proper burial when all other kings turned their backs on him. He also protects the body of Achilles alongside Ajax before that etc.

I think people saying Odysseus has no honor or integrity or that he is totally immoral or that he is not brave or has no selflessness simply haven't read enough of Odysseus. The entirety of the Odyssey was him trying to save what he can from his crew and placing himself in harm's way for them and protecting them with all he had.

~~~~~~~~

Hmm that is an interesting question. Quite frankly I do not think it is fair to always find disorders or syndromes to the Greek heroes and such because just because someone has certain behavioral patterns doesn't necessarily mean they need to be diagnosed just like with everyday people after all. What is more certain behavioral patterns in Greek mythology can be partially "ignored" in one way given how the ancient Greek sources also speak of pre-determined events and such so the agency of the heroes is rather blurry subject but that being said here we go.

I absolutely wouldn't say that Odysseus belongs to the Antisocial Personality Disorder spectrum. Especially when Homer is concerned. I mean as per DSM-5 ASPD in order to be diagnosed we have:

A pervasive pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others, occurring since age 15 years, as indicated by three (or more) of the following:

Failure to conform to social norms with respect to lawful behaviors, as indicated by repeatedly performing acts that are grounds for arrest. (Odysseus doesn't conform to social norms? Who is the one in charge for sacrifices? Who respects the gods to the level of not wishing to offer assistance to people at war because they break the rules Odysseus who desires to honor the customs of Xenia to the extreme? The only "social norm" he doesn't seem to be dealing with is the direct "heroic" battle and he prefers to use wits to do his bidding. Is that outside the ideal social role? Yes. Was he though encouraged or helped by Athena? The goddess that literally dictates some basic social norms? Also yes. Him not being conformed in one specific pattern is not necessarily sign of disorder otherwise everyone's uniqueness is considered a symptom XD As for the things he steals or takes I remind you the actions were encouraged by Athena or placed up by the circumstances or dictated by prophecies and ironically most of the actions happen in harsh warfare. I doubt anyone would be judged if they stole information from an enemy base to help your side. In fact Odysseus resents the idea of stealing from the cave of Polyphemus and run even if his men want to)

Deceitfulness, as indicated by repeated lying, use of aliases, or conning others for personal profit or pleasure. ("for personal profit or pleasure" is the key here. When does Odysseus lie and use aliases? When he needs to protect himself or when he needs to protect others for example with the suitors or Polyphemus. I mean who would go in a room full of men who wanna murder you, over 100 of them, and you would say "hey what's up! It is I!" or in Polyphemus? Who wouldn't lie or hide? In other cases when Odysseus hides his identity or lies about it is when he is not certain he is safe. He doesn't lie just to deceive others and get himself gain something that belongs to others -unless we count some versions created in future sources-. His aliases are usually created for some reason and let's be honest in the situations he was in, most of us would have done the same. Even in Philoctetes where he basically says that he would be a chameleon and slither himself in every situation when the situation calls for it, is also an interesting thing to imagine that we often do so as well don't we? We try to form ourselves up to a situation if we need to.)

Impulsivity or failure to plan ahead. (Impulsivity in certain cases is done by everyone. You do take impulsive decisions or do something out of impulse. In order for this to be pathologic one needs to be doing it consistently. Odysseus arguably always plans ahead. He literally planned the whole "I am nobody" trick so that just in case Polyphemus had allies with him the fake name would confuse them, which actually happpened. He also arguably created allies to both Tyndareus and himself with the Oath of Tyndareus. The fact that he didn't calculate Menelaus would use the oath to get Helen back 10 years later I am not sure if it actually counts as "inability to plan ahead". Also miscalculations to a plan can still happen for example not calculate the true magnitude of of the taking of Troy but again I doubt if that counts again as "failiure to plan ahead". Quite frankly his scheme to take Troy was a perfect success. The fact that several of his schemes turn boomerang against him might as well be seen through the spectrum of fate as well. As for certain impulsive things that he does aka reveling his name to Polyphemus one can say who wouldn't have done so if you think the extreme anxious situation that he was under; days and days of psychological torment and extreme anxiety with barely any sleep or proper food and such? Who wouldn't lose control?)

Irritability and aggressiveness, as indicated by repeated physical fights or assaults. (Aggressiveness is definitely part of his persona in more ways than one. But of course that is part of multiple psychological conditions including Anxiety and Depression and of course Odysseus even in Iliad was already a 10 year war veteran which again is behavior often seen in those who have been through warfare)

Reckless disregard for safety of self or others. (Regardless of safety? Odysseus? Who is always keeping his men out of harm's way or advises them to do so? At war he gets in battle when it is the best moment for him and his men, in the Odyssey he repeatedly warns them against certain decisions etc. The fact that more often whatnot Odysseus thinks of death or has some reckless or impulsive decision is again not done consistently and we see that we have moments like that in our everyday life as well)

Consistent irresponsibility, as indicated by repeated failure to sustain consistent work behavior or honor financial obligations. (Consistent irresponsibility for the man that was basically looked upon every time something bad happened to fix it? The man that always advised others to make good decisions? The man that seems the very definition of "one pays his depts" guy? I would say not. He often speaks on his emotions and mind you the fact that he managed to sustain provisions on Helios's islands and feed 40 men for an elongated amount of time while famish lasted I would say he knows how to manage his economics and such! Hahaha!)

Lack of remorse, as indicated by being indifferent to or rationalizing having hurt, mistreated, or stolen from another (He bawls his eyes out of remorse in the island of Phaeakes not once but TWICE when he hears a man singing about Troy. Odysseus is not void of emotion or of the essence of right or wrong and he definitely shows remorse for his actions or he knows when he has to admit it for example he knows the act of murder of the suitors was arguably wrong and yet necessary as per Athena's advise as well but again as far as Homer is concerned)

Of course bear in mind that I am no psychologist or psychiatrist so these are my interpretation as someone who is enthusiastic on psychology.

As I said above I think people making Odysseus's lies as something that consists his whole persona as if he has nothing else to offer is wrong in the first place because if one thinks the conditions he lived in he was always on his guard and worried. So even if one speaks on the lies being too many, they are not necessarily a product of ASPD. Lying is also part of others like PTSD or Depression given how many people lie out of fear or worry over something.

That being said if in modern age Odysseus was a survivor of a terrible tragedy and a war veteran on top of that then absolutely he would act on a similar basis as well as others

So instead of that I think one thing I would "diagnose" Odysseus with, again based on the homeric poems mainly would be

PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)

For PTSD as per DSM-5:

A. Exposure to actual or threatened death, serious injury, or sexual violence in one (or more) of the following ways:

Directly experiencing the traumatic event(s). (Ι mean...no need to elaborate here now do we?)

Witnessing, in person, the event(s) as it occurred to others. (This speaks on its own. He has experienced both trauma at war by being hurt or chased after or under stress or he was raped and used lost and almost died multiple times or witnessed people die around him such as his fellow kings -Ajax- or his comrades)

Learning that the traumatic event(s) occurred to a close family member or close friend. In cases of actual or threatened death of a family member or friend, the event(s) must have been violent or accidental. (He literally met his mother in the underworld who told him she died of sorrow while waiting of him, he saw his comrade Elpenor and he found out he died, he heard that his wife was struggling and that his father lost his mind among others)

Experiencing repeated or extreme exposure to aversive details of the traumatic event(s) (e.g., first responders collecting human remains: police officers repeatedly exposed to details of child abuse). (This part is tricky because as far as the Odyssey is concerned we do not know how often Odysseus was experiencing dreams or flashbacks of what happened although arguably he was always remembering it, for example when he was mistreated by the suitors he was reminding himself to endure because he had endured worse before and he remembers Polyphemus so we can assume he definitely had some close calls with his past and dreams before or at least that he constantly thinks of them)

So as per the B section of DSM we do have the factor of reoccurring memories or dreams. As I said as far as Odyssey is concerned we do not have much on the stimuli through dreams however if I may draw the attention to one of the factors:

Recurrent Involuntary and intrusive distressing memories of the traumatic event(s) (Odysseus cries his eyes out once a heroic song about Troy begins to play. His memory of the war sneaks in to the point that he blows his anonymity and not only that his memory is stimulated enough to say his story and explain himself to the presented members)

As per the C part of it:

C. Persistent avoidance of stimuli associated with the traumatic event(s), beginning after the traumatic event(s) occurred, as evidenced by one or both of the following:

Avoidance of or efforts to avoid distressing memories, thoughts, or feelings about or closely associated with the traumatic event(s). (Odysseus doesn't want to reveal his identity again. When he is taken in by Nausicaa he hides who he is. He doesn't speak on himself. He avoids the subject altogether. He knows he has little to no possibility to get the help he needs without honoring the part of Xenia law that involves himself to reveal who he is and yet he is not ready to speak up)

Avoidance of or efforts to avoid external reminders (people, places, conversations, activities, objects, situations) that arouse distressing memories, thoughts, or feelings about or closely associated with the traumatic event(s). (Odysseus refuses to take part to athletic activities in Scheria. He doesn't want to blow his cover but also potentially he knows that this brings him memories from the funerary games of the army. He also knows he will always go in full force at what he does so participating would blow his cover and potentially make him reveal who he is, something he avoids)

D. Negative alterations in cognitions and mood associated with the traumatic event(s), beginning or worsening after the traumatic event(s) occurred, as evidenced by two (or more) of the following:

Inability to remember an important aspect of the traumatic event(s) (typically due to dissociative amnesia and not to other factors such as head injury, alcohol, or drugs). (This one doesn't apply here because Odysseus has a very sharp memory. He explains everything in detail. We also do not see him in Homer abusing alcohol or anything else -and I mean it IS an ancient text after all Homer was no psychologist)

Persistent and exaggerated negative beliefs or expectations about oneself, others, or the world (e.g., “I am bad,” “No one can be trusted,” ‘The world is completely dangerous,” “My whole nervous system is permanently ruined”). (Odysseus often talks with regret about his decisions during his narration but he also expresses rage many times over on the events that took place. He also calls his comrades "mindless" many times over especially on events that marked his trip's outcome such as the sack of Aeolus or the cows of Helios. Of course that is only natural in one essence so it doesn't necessarily need to be a symptom but I am throwing that to the table)

Persistent, distorted cognitions about the cause or consequences of the traumatic event(s) that lead the individual to blame himself/herself or others. (Once more even though Odysseus doesn't specifically speak on cause and effect apart from the mentions we get in the Odyssey but he does seem to try and figure the root of the problem. He is also speaking negatively on himself or speaking on shameful moments of his trip also certain things like Imsarus he just mentions them. He doesn't even get to elaborate those but moments such as Charybdis or Skylla etc were thoroughly described! Or the shipwreck)

Persistent negative emotional state (e.g., fear, horror, anger, guilt, or shame). (Once again explanation not needed; ashamed to be washed by maidens, fear that he might be trapped again, angry and irritated, feeling guilt. All the emotions in the Odyssey are here)

Markedly diminished interest or participation in significant activities. (He is not interested in showing his potential to the Phaeakes or speak of his name or heritage even when he heard the song for the first time so he might have clues that they are positively thinking towards him)

Feelings of detachment or estrangement from others. (He is a stranger, a beggar. He sits in the corner. Most of the time he is silent. He is the oddity in the room. He doesn't become the center of attention till his emotions betray him and he has to speak to the Phaeakes on who he is)

Persistent inability to experience positive emotions (e.g., inability to experience happiness, satisfaction, or loving feelings). (He is crying for seven years at the beach longing for his home. He is rarely ever pictured laughing. His feelings of distrust and anger continue and expand even to his wetnurse whom he feels he has to threaten in order to be on the safe side. He feels betrayed by the gods even as he calls out to Athena and reminds her that she didn't help him when he needed her the most)

E. Marked alterations in arousal and reactivity associated with the traumatic event(s), be ginning or worsening after the traumatic event(s) occurred, as evidenced by two (or more) of the following:

Irritable behavior and angry outbursts (with little or no provocation) typically expressed as verbal or physical aggression toward people or objects. (Odysseus definitely shows irritable behavior through and through to the Iliad when he beats up Thersites to make an example out of him or when he loses control when Eurylochus hurts his ego by calling out to him for being enchanted by Circe and he basically brings up a painful memory; the Cyclops incident. Odysseus cannot take this and he is ready to literally slay his brother-in-law on the spot and he is stopped by the others)

Reckless or self-destructive behavior. (HERE is where I would put some of that recklessness we see in the Odyssey; Odysseus wishing to rescue his men no matter what; he is ready to fight a goddess with little to no plan to save the little he has left of men after his loss by the Laestrigonians, he is ready to fight Skylla for them, he provokes the suitors to see who is rotten and who is not.)

Hypervigilance. (No explanation needed here! Odysseus constantly sees enemies and reasons to distrust people. He doesn't allow his men near the sack of winds, he remains awake even to do it all by himself. He saw danger to the bay of Laestrygonians and tied his ship outside the bay -and he was proven right-, despite the fact he was in friendly company, he hides himself from the Phaeakes and he constantly tests or measures people, even his wetnurse needs to be threatened in his mind, even the loyal slave Eumeus needs to wait a bit before fully trusted to be placed within the scheme he was planning. Even when the Phaeakes were proven true to him and brought him home, when he woke up and he didn't recognize his own country, his first thought was that the Phaeakes tricked him.)

Exaggerated startle response. (He literally grabs his wetnurse by the throat when she is ready to shout. He is even threatening on top of that to make sure that she will not speak up despite his orders)

Problems with concentration. (This doesn't seem to apply here since Odysseus is hyper focused most of the time either when he tells his story or when he is planning the murder of the suitors)

Sleep disturbance (e.g., difficulty falling or staying asleep or restless sleep). (This one again is tricky since we have no clue but at the moments we see Odysseus sleeping for example during his return, we see him sleep peacefully. We do not see much on nightmares he might or might not have. Perhaps he has some but the thought of his homeland puts him at peace)

Suicidal thoughts are also common and Odysseus thought about ending his own life many times over in the Odyssey; from the moment the sack of winds was opened and he saw his home away once more till the moment he was at Calypso's isle and he was thinking of death daily.

The dude even had a syndrome named after him known as "Ulysses Syndrome" or migrant syndrome of chronic and multiple stress Basically it involves chronic stress especially for people who spent years in anxiety while moving from one place to another (to put it very roughly)

Okay please psychologists and psychiatrists do not come and have my head for this I am only doing this for fictional characters and not for real people, I am just enthusiast of psychology and not an actual psychologist so yeah...guys be gentle with me! XD

But yeah I think this whole thing on "Odysseus is a liar" as if that is his reason of existence or that he is like a pathological liar or that he doesn't have any sort of moral code I feel like it misses the whole point of the homeric hero (although some examples of post-homeric and roman sources might fit that better)

Hope this answers some of your questions dear Anon and sorry this was sooooooo long! Yeah I am normal about that guy! XD

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ihopesocomic · 2 days ago

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Speaking about the too many characters issue you pointed out early; isn't that an overall issue on most internet based works? The ones that promote the characters first and the story second?

There are a lot of projects that end up giving more time to Toyhouse profiles, AMVs and stuff on every single background character than in the full work. Is there any advice to deal with that?

Not saying that IHS is the case, considering that it's not finished in the slightest, obv.

You would know better than me if it was a common problem on internet based works. I wouldn't be surprised if it is. I just don't read that many things online. But I do see a lot more voice acting calls than actual results lol so you're probably right.

Some people's stories are only relegated to toyhouse profiles and I think that's an interesting way to do it. It's when people rely on the profiles to get across important information about characters that should be in the comic/cartoon/what have you when it becomes an issue. This isn't counting people who just need a reference to remember who people are. I can admit when it's a me problem versus a problem with the narrative haha

But we've said this a few times before, characters should have a point. And if characters can be consolidated, they should. Like in MP you could have the same plot if you combined Quickmane and Proudmane. Because the exact same outcome happens anyway.

I worried about us having too many characters, especially since we ended up adding more as we went. But it helped that the protagonists were on a journey so the irrelevant characters would be moved on from. I believe that helps with the readers being able to keep track of everyone, because while they're dealing with Edge and his family, they don't have to think about the leopards. Stuff like that. And with all these characters it's just as well we kept their names as one-word names. So while there may be multiple Storm's in this universe, there will be only one Storm in the comic, otherwise it'd really be confusing haha

I can't remember exactly what it was, but I've seen cartoons and live action shows where a character doesn't even have a name until they become relevant to the plot. In books I've read, they'd probably have a name just to make the world feel more natural, as we address people we know by name, but we don't need their life's story to understand why they exist. That should be reserved for your main cast. And in Clouded Moon, we don't even know who Spottedshadow's parents are until like the middle of the story, and then that sort of reveals that Hazelstar and Forestleaf are her grandparents. I feel like that would be important. Or it should be.

This'll be the last time we bring up Clouded Moon. We won't be responding to any more anons about it because we'd just be repeating ourselves. So any comments can be directed to replies on the initial post discussing it. - Cat

#ask #ask us stuff #cat answers #my pride mention

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jav-uni · 2 days ago

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It's already hard for the GP to know who she is, but interesting article though. Thanks, nonnie! //

No problem! Here’s another fascinating read I found — which confirms all that team real has stated during this stunt:

https://www.cosmopolitan.com/uk/love-sex/relationships/a60871843/anatomy-of-a-celebrity-break-up/

Wow, that's a fascinating article! Thanks!

And, you meant to say "team PR", right? 😉, because as you said it confirms what team PR has said since day one.

Edit: Nonnie clarified and meant to say "Team PR" instead of "Team Real"

In case you can't open the link I posted the text of the article below.

The anatomy of a celebrity break-up

Celebrity divorce lawyers have been busy... it feels like there’s new break-up hitting our newsfeeds every week. But as we all become more savvy to the inner workings of the A-list PR machine, how do the insiders keep reputations firmly intact?By Annabelle LeeUpdated: 21 August 2024

Within seconds, the comments begin to pile up. It’s a Friday afternoon and the latest celebrity split has just hit our Instagram feeds. The announcement sets off a ripple effect: celebrity journalists cancel their dinner plans and begin furiously typing their stories. The stars’ publicists are carefully watching the reaction – there are certain details they really don’t want out there (and some they definitely do). As for the celebrities everyone’s talking about? She’s on tour. He’s cuddling up to his new girlfriend. The split happened months ago. It’s only now, after multiple meetings and rewrites of the statement that we get to know about it. Welcome to the wild world of celebrity break-ups...

I’ve been working as a celebrity journalist for more than a decade and even I can’t keep up with how many showbiz break-ups there were last year. Taylor Swift and Joe Alwyn. Sophie Turner and Joe Jonas. Jodie Turner-Smith and Joshua Jackson. Ricky Martin and Jwan Yosef. Britney Spears and Sam Asghari. Even Jada Pinkett Smith recently revealed that, while not legally divorced, she and Will Smith have been separated since 2016. In recent months we've been shaken by the splits of Maya Jama and Stormzy, and Tommy Fury and Molly-Mae. And now, Bennifer have called time on their romance, with Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez filing divorce on their second wedding anniversary.

Something is going on in the world of showbiz – and it’s not just the divorce lawyers working overtime. There’s a whole host of publicists and dedicated crisis management teams who hustle behind the scenes to try to make a split appear as rosy as possible.

And while, from my experience in the real world, relationship breakdowns are usually messy, complicated, and painful, in the world of showbiz they maintain a veneer of mutual and loving, with both parties vowing to stay mates. There’s the now legendary “consciously uncoupling” statement from Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin, Reese Witherspoon and Jim Toth said they “move forward with deep love, kindness, and mutual respect”, and Sofía Vergara and Joe Manganiello “love and care for each other very much”. But those statements are hiding a multitude of secrets. Secrets that are carefully controlled by a team of people. So, what really goes on behind the scenes of a split? I dug deep into my contacts book to find out...

It is with great sadness...

Think about your most recent split. You bitched about them to your friends, right? Celebs are the same. Except when they’re bitching, it’s to their publicist rather than their BFF. “As a publicist, you know every detail of your client’s life so you’re one of the first people they call if they go through a relationship breakdown,” says Dermot McNamara, founding director of Candid, a PR and talent management agency. “Then comes the media strategy.”

In other words, it’s not as simple as: break up, make your announcement, move on. Instead, it’s break up, pull together a carefully constructed (and discreet) team to find a way to get the news out that not only makes the celebrity look good but also, if done right, benefits them by promoting whatever work project they have going on. And it all begins with that key statement.

Whether it’s released via a seemingly hurried Notes screenshot or in a polished press release, “they’re usually written in tandem with the celebrity’s publicist”, explains Melissa Morris, a celebrity publicist at Can We Schmooze Consulting in the US, who has advised on some high-profile celebrity break-ups but won’t indulge my nosiness and reveal which. “The content of the statement is carefully crafted to strike a balance between respecting the privacy of those involved and addressing the public’s curiosity.”

“The statement has to strike a balance between respecting privacy and addressing public curiosity”

Publicist Sally Windsor, who has worked at some of the UK’s biggest PR agencies, adds: “Most publicists have a background in media; we know how to phrase statements and word them diplomatically. Sometimes, you’ll have your client in the background saying, ‘He’s awful, tell them he did this to me’, but as a publicist your priority has to be keeping the language neutral.” Yep, as much as the celeb might want to tell the world what their ex did, the statement is not the place to start mud-slinging – that comes later. Particularly as the statement is part of a wider strategy from a celebrity’s team, which is why it can often take weeks, or even months, to plan.

“You look at what is coming up for them. If they have a big project coming up, you don’t want to necessarily announce it straight away so that they’re not constantly asked about the relationship during promotion,” explains McNamara. “But equally some people will want to get publicity and for the news to come out at the same time, so there is more interest in them.” The column inches the break-up provides become the perfect promotion.

Take Taylor Swift: her break-up with Joe Alwyn hit the news just as The Eras Tour was kicking off. What followed was multiple fan TikTok videos of her slaying it on stage, accompanied by captions such as, ‘ways to boss the break-up’ and ‘I can’t even get out of bed after a break-up and Taylor’s on an arena tour’, adding a personal element of intrigue to an already hugely talked-about tour (set to make a record $1bn in ticket sales). It was speculated that this was no coincidence and that the pair had broken up months earlier... This, of course, was never confirmed or denied by Taylor’s team (neither Joe or Taylor have ever spoken publicly on the split).

It’s not just projects that are factored into the timing of the split statement – consideration of the working hours (and press deadlines) of the media is also factored in. I remember when Jennifer Aniston and Justin Theroux announced their divorce, late one Thursday evening. For those working in weekly magazines at the time, their cover story for the following week had already been written and decided so journalists had to work late, quickly pulling what they had planned to replace it with the news. Some managed, some didn’t – hugely impacting sales on the news stand the following week. This could all have been a deliberate move on the pair’s part.

While the fast pace of the online news cycle disrupts this slightly, traditional print schedules will still be considered. If a celebrity posts their break-up statement on a Friday – they’re trying to avoid coverage. “Journalists aren’t usually looking for stories on a Friday afternoon – they’ll be doing admin and thinking about clocking off for the weekend,” Windsor explains. “And similarly, if I was looking after a celebrity who wants publicity, I’d be putting that statement out early in the week.” Of course, all of this is great if the pair’s teams are working in harmony, and both are willing to ensure that each party comes across well – but that isn’t always the case...

A source close to the couple...

You know the ‘close friend’ or ‘insider’ often quoted on celebrity news articles? They’re usually the celebrity themselves (via their PR) trying to take a swipe or get their side of the story out there, before their ex does. It gives them a chance to potentially sling some mud, have their say, and, crucially, control the narrative after a split to maintain their client’s reputation.

While the statement often appears to show a harmonious, loving split, that’s rarely the case and it’s more than likely each party wants their story out there. “About 70% of what I do is letting stuff out through source quotes,” explains Windsor. “You’d generally always announce a break-up through social media and then the next day get source quotes out there.” McNamara agrees, adding: “It’s a great way to control the messaging. If journalists don’t get their sources from their publicist, they’ll just go elsewhere.”

“Some want the news to come out at the same time [as a big project] so there’s more interest”

This is where things get messy. The world of celebrity has changed drastically over recent years and it’s a lot harder to keep the dirty details secret any more. The social media rumour mill means that bombshell splits that we never saw coming (think Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt) are almost a relic of the past. Publicists are keeping an eye on whisper accounts such as DeuxMoi and, in the UK, Popbitch, if they’re waiting to reveal a split. If the news hits these or people begin to notice that the pair haven’t featured each other on social media in a while, they may rethink their strategy and announce earlier than planned.

“A-listers have a whole team looking after publicity and these sites would definitely be on their radar,” confirms McNamara. “If a rumour ramps up, they want to know about it.” Some of the publicists I spoke to also agree that a celebrity’s team might leak break-up news through sites such as DeuxMoi to help control the narrative in a more natural way.

Social media is also changing the game, giving us normal folk (and celebrities behind the backs of their publicists) the chance to spill some tea. Kiss and tells are no longer tabloid fodder but instead ‘story time’ TikToks, with those spilling secrets on the platform in the name of ‘sharing their truth’ (and racking up their follower counts in the process). Many keep their alleged lovers anonymous, choosing to hint by ‘liking’ the guesses in the comments. Model Sumner Stroh made worldwide news when she alleged that she had an affair with Maroon 5 star Adam Levine on TikTok, with a backdrop of messages thought to be between the two of them – claims Levine denied.

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Then there’s the odd occasion when celebrities will, much to their publicists’ horror, take to social media (seemingly) without having thought their decision through. In a moment where he admits he “just snapped”, Calvin Harris took to Twitter in 2016 to drag Taylor Swift after their split. And lately, we’ve seen Sophie Turner demand “the immediate return of [their] children”, who she claimed had been “wrongfully removed” by Joe Jonas – which he denied. The pair later released a joint statement saying mediation had been successful and they “look forward to being great co-parents”.

It’s never been easier to get your side of the story out there, but, as we’re seeing, when two parties try to control the narrative, it gets complicated very quickly (and publicly). Real Housewives Of Atlanta stars Kim Zolciak and Kroy Biermann filed for divorce earlier this year and the messy details of their split reached the press almost instantly. Kroy requested full custody of their four children, before Kim alleged Kroy smoked weed around them and asked the court for him to be drugs tested. Then he alleged she had a gambling problem and asked for her to undergo a psychological evaluation.

And last year wasn’t much smoother for Ariana Grande, who ended her marriage to Dalton Gomez before (that same week) allegedly falling into the arms of her Wicked co-star Ethan Slater. Rumours then circulated that their relationship began while they were both still married, with Ariana being branded a ‘homewrecker’ and Ethan’s ex-wife, Lilly Jay (mum to their one-year-old son) calling her family the “collateral damage” in the whole saga, adding that Ariana is not a “girl’s girl”. ‘Consciously uncoupling’ suddenly seems a lot more appealing.

“I’ve dealt with my fair share of messy break-ups,” explains a well-known UK-based publicist (who we’ve kept anonymous) who has represented many celebrities over the years. “One of my previous clients was dating one of the biggest reality stars in the country. When they split, he put the break-up out on social media before we’d even had the chance to come up with our approach,” the publicist reveals. “At the time there was a lot of reporting that he had secretly got back together with his ex, and before we knew it both girls were being played off against each other. My client was heartbroken over the relationship breakdown, so I worked with her to give anonymous stories to the press to share her side of the story and build a positive narrative. Then a few months later, I booked her onto a different reality show to share her side once emotions had died down. When it comes to celebrities, I often find the more gushing the statement is, the more insincere it is. ‘We move on with the greatest respect for each other’ and the like is the most disingenuous thing I’ve heard in my life.” But if we start to see a more ‘real’ side to showbiz splits, how will that affect how we view our own relationships?

Love is dead?

If you happened to walk down New York’s Cornelia Street in April this year, you’d have been confronted with bouquets spread across the street and crowds belting out Taylor Swift’s most heartbreaking hits. For a brief period, the street (where she wrote the song “Cornelia Street”, believed to be about Joe Alwyn) became a shrine to the couple’s dead relationship. Teenagers were taking photos of themselves holding roses and crying. One even told a journalist: “I cried for a couple of hours and the next day I stayed in my room all day. It made me believe that love wasn’t real anymore. And I puked.”

This is extreme, but we do get invested in our favourite celebs – and their relationships, too. During my research for this piece, I spoke to lots of people about how celebrity break-ups have affected them and most could see themselves in the celebrity couple they had once so adored. When Jen and Brad announced their divorce in 2005, there was an outpouring of sadness from fans around the world. But that was 18 years ago, and we are still obsessed over their split. One fan told me: “I just loved them together. I felt like I knew Jennifer because I’d watched her so much on TV playing Rachel [in Friends]. When they split, I thought, ‘If they can’t make it, who can?

It works both ways. When Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck reunited in 2021 after their 2004 split, the internet was overjoyed. And, when they revealed they’d got married, every one of their wedding posts was flooded with fans saying, ‘I love your love story because it’s so similar to my own’ and ‘I think her prior marriages never worked out because her true love has always been Ben.’ Cut to now, with the couple having now filed for divorce after giving their relationship another go, these comments are revealed as intense parasocial pressure reveals itself.

This is common, us pinning our hopes and dreams on to celebrities. As well as proclamations of true love being ‘dead’ when celebrities split, there’s also the idea that if infidelity is involved, it means that anyone can get cheated on (the whole, ‘If they can get cheated on there’s no hope for the rest of us’.) But while it’s natural, what we’re actually doing is trying to project ourselves on to a soap opera – something that isn’t real. “Following a celebrity’s love life is like living through them – it’s escapism from your day-to-day. You might think, ‘I wish I had a husband who looks like Brad Pitt’, or, ‘I wish I lived in Beverley Hills’, but a lot of the time, their lives are fabricated stories created by their PR people,” explains psychologist Jason O’Callaghan, who is a former showbiz reporter based in Ireland and now a therapist to many celebrities.

As for their relationships reflecting our own? “It’s actually the opposite. Hollywood stars have higher break-up and divorce rates than the rest of us because of the pressure of being in the public eye,” O’Callaghan explains. A study by the MarriageFoundation found that 40% of celebrities divorced within a 10-year period, yet the UK national average for divorce in the first decade is 20%. Throw in long-distance travel, conflicting schedules, and differing career priorities, and it’s far from a fairy tale.

“I worked with my client to give anonymous stories to the press to share her side of the story”

“There is nothing to suggest that the more attractive you are, the happier your relationships will be,” says O’Callaghan. “Even if you look like a Hollywood star, it doesn’t mean you are immune. Relationships don’t tend to last just because you’re attractive. Infidelity is caused by a number of things, and while attraction is important in a relationship, infidelity and marriage breakdowns are not prevented by being as conventionally attractive as possible to your partner.”

The truth is that looks, money, fame... they just don’t guarantee a happier life. And you don’t need to be a celebrity to know it is hard. out. there – whether you’re dating or making a relationship work. With longer life spans, a growing interest in different relationship models and the fact we’re no longer pushing the idea that you have to be in a relationship to be happy, it’s not surprising divorce rates in the UK rose by around 10% in 2021, with 42% of marriages ending in divorce.

But if celebrity break-ups can teach us anything, it’s that, in the words of Taylor herself, “There’ll be happiness after you, there was happiness because of you, both of these things can be true”. Just because a split happens, it doesn’t mean love wasn’t there. While celebrity break-ups can feel brutal, they also remind us we’ve all been there and we’re never as alone in heartbreak as we feel. Break-ups are messy and complicated, perfectly worded split announcement or not, but life goes on. Even if life isn’t a sold-out world tour for everyone...

This article originally appeared in the Dec 23/Jan 24 issue of Cosmopolitan UK.

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tvckerwash · 1 day ago

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tbh not to avoid responsibility for posting bad takes on main but my original post doesn’t really convey the sentiment i wanted it to—what i really wanted to talk about was the fact that jayce talis is just insanely earnest ALL the time because i was annoyed with people saying he’s this golden retriever himbo. he’s a way more interesting character than that!

oh that’s completely fair, as a Certified Fanon HaterTM I despise how his characterization has been reduced to stupid dog coded man. he IS so much more interesting than that and it honestly feels a bit insulting to his character. he isn’t dumb, he isn’t lacking in balls, he’s just a scientist who was forced to become a politician and is so far out of his comfort zone he's flailing around trying to get his bearing. he is The Struggler of arcane.

(again continued utc but it's not nearly as long this time lmao)

the main one i was trying to talk about but didn’t really bc i got caught up in yapping is that talis doesn’t seem to have the concrete foundation of beliefs that giopara does. yes he does what he thinks is right and he really cares about those around him, but he’s VERY easy to manipulate

honestly I wouldn't say that talis doesn't have a solid belief foundation, it's just that as I previously mentioned he does not have the luxury of ignorance due to the role he was put in. jayce (plural) has a very black and white view of the world, and he is firm and assertive in his convictions and his beliefs when he can separate things into a binary of good and bad.

as a councilor talis is at his most confident in act two because things are still pretty cut and dry in his mind. for example, upon discovering the corruption present among the upper echelon of piltover via smuggling through the hexgates, he takes immediate action to address it because corruption and smuggling are bad. any attempts by marcus to dismiss him or sway his actions are immediately shut down, and he doesn't even tolerate marcus referring to him as mr. talis over councilor talis.

another example would be when heimerdinger wanted to have the hexcore destroyed, as jayce did not see what heimerdinger saw, all he saw was a device that could possibly save his dying best friends life and that his mentor was trying to stop that from happening. letting viktor die when they have the technology to possibly prevent that was bad, so bye bye heimerdinger—but he felt incredibly guilty for betraying his mentor afterwards even though he believed it was the right thing to do.

every single time we see talis be swayed by the opinions of others or waiver in his decisions is when there is no clear right or wrong answer for him to choose. all he wants to do is what’s best to keep people safe, but he’s getting conflicting opinions from everyone around him, and the guy just….doesn’t know what to do, which makes it very easy for people to get into his head and take advantage of his uncertainty.

do i think talis would have had the same reaction in the same circumstance? yes. but do i think he would have stood his ground against Viktor? eh….

would talis be able to stand up to viktor like giopara? we did sort of see him doing so on the bridge with the blockade, though he does come off more like he’s scolding him than anything else, and he did back off in the end, but I attribute that more to him not wanting to make a scene in public and viktor not having actually done anything wrong rather than him being incapable of telling the other off. if he truly believed viktor was doing something wrong, I definitely think he’d do whatever he needed to do to stop him—though it would weigh heavily on his heart as it did with heimerdinger.

thanks for the essay haha although i did briefly want to die while reading it 🙏💀

omg no 💀 I hope I didn’t come off as mean or something because I swear I didn’t mean to!!

here comes a long post i’m fucking sorry lmao

a really interesting point was raised the other day about who the better person is (morally): jayce talis or jayce giopara? [insert obligatory admission about the fact that giopara has an annoying personality].

Like, talis is of course nice and kind and wonderful, perhaps a bit naive, but i don’t think we talk about how far he’s willing to go for what he believes. he weaponizes hextech because mel asks him to, and he doesn’t think further. he blatantly ignores viktor’s wishes about destroying the hexcore, even using it on his corpse to reanimate him. he ignores the council and does what he wants, enacting vigilante justice at the cost of innocent lives (including an actual child). he set up the fucking hexgates in such a way that they pollute the water supply of the undercity. and then, when he’s back from his sabbatical in hell, he goes to viktor. he looks him in the eyes, with the weapon he never wanted him to make, and he shoots him. what the actual fuck this guy is unhinged. he doesn’t THINK. he has no sense of consequences—of course if you keep unsecured, highly unstable and explosive materials in your residential apartment, things might blow up in your face (literally!). of course your patron won’t support you—she is beholden to social opinion. of course weapons can never be unmade and are always used. of course using the scary magical dodecahedron your partner begged you to destroy to bring said partner back from the dead will bring him back Different ™️. come on Jayce.

and then giopara. he has no true family, instead is left to the bloodthirsty clans who want him for what he can give them. he’s antisocial. he’s fucking annoying. he’s a diva 💜. he’s impossible to work with but impossible to get rid of because he’s just that smart. he hates politics and only gets into them to appease his investors so he can do what he actually wants. he doesn’t give a fuck about the common people who look up to him so much. he’s alone, alone, alone. and then he’s not. he meets this other brilliant mind, the only one who can keep up with him. i mean how insane would that be? he must have been at least a little obsessed with viktor because of that. then picture jayce, in all his egotistical glory, drunk on life and the belief that he and viktor are the brightest minds alive, when viktor shows him the diver suits. why does he resist? why does he care? no one in his life is telling him to care. he just does. he sees the devices for what they are, or at least what they could be twisted to be, and calls viktor out on it. he doesn’t speak up for viktor when the stanwick thing happens, it’s true, but doubtless he simply expected viktor to wow and amaze with a different project and be happy with the credit from that. and then viktor leaves. and jayce is a one man act again. like always. like forever and always. jayce acts wrongly, it’s true, when it comes to viktor and destroying his lab and accidentally killing those people, but he saw what he thought was evil and he went for it. no thought of what he could lose. no thought of who he could lose.

idk man there’s something about these two. by no means do i think talis is a bad person, in fact i think he’s a fundamentally good one. but he’s just so fucking naive, and towards the end he’s willing to do ANYTHING for what he believes, no matter the grisly consequences. he’s fucking scary. he’s unhinged. giopara on the other hand has a terrible personality, but is completely unwavering in his beliefs no matter the cost to himself or his relationships. viktor asked him to work together again, and he said “get a psyche eval” and slammed the door.

#how many times can I type heimerdinger in a single post challenge #also if u saw me rb this the first time no u didn't. I was still writing and accidentally posted it when I meant to save it as a draft lmao #eli tvckerwash takes an L live on tumblr dot com #text #not t/oaru #not r/vb #arcane #still not making a lol tag < is my lol tag #q

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p5x-theories · 1 year ago

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Hey this guy is a native speaker and you can hear him say the names of the new thieves. Yui, Hina Nishimori, Toshiya Sugai, and Miyu Sahara. Idk if he’s speaking 8n Chinese or Japanese but the names sound clear. https://www.youtube.com/live/6fQz402kUg4?si=RId-nY6Gk7ju9RL2 at 40:43

Oh, haha, I was just about to post a link to his stream of the preview livestream, for anyone else who was curious to see it!

He's speaking Japanese, which means his readings of the names (which are written in Japanese) are probably a more accurate guess than what I'm doing with my dictionary, yeah. The kanji characters that Japanese names are usually written with often have multiple ways they can be read, though, and my understanding is that even if you're a native speaker, the first reading of the name that comes to mind may not always be the correct one, in the same way you could misread a name in English because you've heard it pronounced one way, but the person whose name it is pronounces it another way.

Which isn't to say I think he's wrong necessarily! Just that (at least as I understand it as someone learning Japanese) it's still not 100% confirmation those are their canon names, so I'll hold off on calling anything "confirmed" until I hear the names in-game, just to be safe.

(Though, to be clear, I do consider Yui confirmed, since they write that name in English in some cases as well, haha. The above explanation applies to the three names written in Japanese.)

But thanks for sending this in, all the same!

#anonymous #third beta #genuinely always appreciate when you guys find stuff and send it in even if I've already seen it. to be clear #because I *am* going to miss stuff sometimes and it's always nice to know other people are looking around for things too!#as for my obsession with confirming names in-game it's largely that I'm trying to limit how much name confusion goes on on this blog #getting used to calling someone one thing then having to switch (ex the suwa arai -> motoha arai confusion of the first beta) can be troubl #and I know not everyone reads every post I make and keeps up with the game info as much as I do. so basically I just want to keep it simple #and in this case the best way to do that is to avoid using a name until I am absolutely positive it's the canon one!#ruferu is sort of an exception in that that IS his japanese name but it might be something like ruffle or lufer in an english dub #but at least ruferu is *a* correct name for him as opposed to luffy which is speculation/possible mistranslation. you know?#not to write an essay on my reporting philosophy with this blog though haha sorry #bui #riddle #sepia #puppet

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violetganache42 · 2 years ago

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Yep. Mario movie still looking mid as fuck.

#my post #movie trailer #mario movie #super mario bros. movie #the super mario bros. movie #why did they think it was a good idea to give that luma a mouth? it makes them look more weird than cute #and don't get me started on the overusage of fanservice to all the other mario media #if you're adding references to past media of a franchise at least space them out instead of shoving it in everyone's faces every 5 seconds #and the plot is SO predictable and uninteresting #mario and luigi are two plumbers from brooklyn who get sent to another world one day #the two get separated upon being teleported and luigi gets kidnapped by bowser #mario ends up in the mushroom kingdom teams up with peach and toad and they all go on a mission to save luigi #all while making new friends allies and foes along the way in the smb worlds they come across #soon they board on their go-karts to face bowser defeat him and mario reunites with luigi #watch the 'big twist' be they were born in the mushroom kingdom and got sent to brooklyn as babies #after reading charlie day's interview what's the point of keeping the plot of this a secret if literally everyone knows what it'll be about #ESPECIALLY if it's about mario? i swear to fucking god with spoiler culture #if your movie hinges solely on avoiding any and all spoilers from everyone especially when it's twist-driven then it's not a good movie #and that's exactly what this movie has going on: excessive broad appeal to compensate:#1. the fact that there's nothing interesting about it at all and 2. its obsession to avoid spoilers and twists from the cast and audience #sounds really on brand for nintendo illumination and the teen titans go! creators #(i mention the ttg creators because they are involved with making this movie which explains a whole lot)

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inmirova · 4 months ago

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"it's easier to leave an abusive situation than it is to stop an abuser" :^( but it's not easy :^(

#repeating patterns repeating patterns repeating patterns repeating patterns #im not unsafe btw just. :^) scared :^)#tired.#starting to stop walking on eggshells kind of. in a cowardly way. like responding some of my real thoughts but at 4am #i want to scream. im not like that but i want to yell and tell her to leave me alone forever and i just want to be able to rest !#and to not be afraid. i want to move. i want to drop off the face of the earth. i want to go to bed. i want to stay awake and on guard.#idk. im tired. im so tired and i want it to stop. it's not even a big deal.#the thinly veiled insults bother me more than anything else. insult sandwich on compliment bread.#im so pretty im so stupid im so funny. im smart im too insecure im beautiful. im the most interesting person she knows im evil im talented #it's not even the worst thing it just pisses me off so much. do you think this is helpful to say? do you think this is normal?#do you think you'll get what you want insulting and belittling me as long as you tell me you think im attractive?#it's always how pretty i am. like some superficial bullshit is going to make up for an insult or make the insult disappear #and everyone else gets to leave but if i leave she'll die and it'll be all my fault and this is just like x y or z #and didnt i know she almost experienced trauma as a child but didnt? and how that effects her?#fuck. i hope she sees this tbh. how fucking insulting to see something someone's experienced and say that couldve maybe happened to me #but the person who couldve done it lives in another country and never came here.#what the fuck. what the fuck.#so it didnt happen to you? you cant lay claim to it at all? yet you think you understand me or that even if it did happen it's all the same #im going to lose my mind. im so. fucking. over it. but im a coward and i dont want her to die so ill grin and bear it.#and she'll tear out all my skin and ask if it's a little too much and ill say it's fine and she'll say im so gorgeous but i'm disgusting #but at least im kind. and ill say okay. because if i say anything else it's a threat on her fucking life.#tbh im only posting this now bc i know no one will likely read it. perpetual coward when it comes to this shit #because if i tell someone the full extent they'll ask why i didn't leave sooner. but i did!#i left and i got bombarded and overwhelmed and i was so tired of being scared of running into her everywhere #and i just. eased back in. and said it would be less this time. and it is so much more. it is so much worse.#ive lived in that fear before and i was so tired of it. it was a big reason i moved so far for college. and i cant just run away #so this seemed better. but it's so much worse. id rather hide every day of my life. keep an eye out everywhere and run away.#it wasnt so bad really. it was tedious and nauseating and i only ever explained it to one person. but it wasnt impossible.#this is much closer to impossible. this is soul crushing every day. and the things she does arent even as bad i dont think #it just doesnt stop. at least in high school i eventually got it to stop. i just had to be avoidant. this. wont stop.

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transmasc-tabris · 7 months ago

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More screenshots (bonus, managed to find Bull a shirt and don't know how to feel about that)

#anyway i continue to Lavellan post because i did some stuff and I'm tired now anyway. thinking about the beginning of the game and #how he's mostly leaning into the herald bullshit because he thinks it'll help him belong here and make people like him and how #devastatingly it's going to hit him after in your heart shall burn (I'm basically leaning into it as much as #possible without establishing him as faithful since it's more difficult to make Leliana pope that way but in my head #he took every 'yeah I'm herald I'm heralding so much andraste right now' option besides one with cass and one with Leliana)#like. he doesn't even really believe it but most people either like hearing it or if they react negatively it's in a way that still #acknowledges him as in charge so he'll roll with that. but then. everything in YHTB happens and it's just like. Oh. Oh Shit. like #it was this mix of bullshitting for fun and saying what people wanted to hear and kind of believing that maybe he was chosen by #Something at least. and like. it's not like he didn't do anything on his own or at least without any special abilities but then #The classic seeing all that be swept aside. realizing how this is going to be remembered because it's already happening. maybe #he should have known that the second he was asked if there was room for more among his gods.#but then. what do you expect. his first memory is being discarded (that's not entirely what it was but that's how his child brain #precessed it) and practically going feral because of it and then. having So Much catching up to do when it came to. basically every #aspect of being a person #and like. he was accepted along with Rella but that still gets to you. especially since. sure he didn't fully understand what it means to #be pitied but he could still recognize that from others. could still want to prove he was Better Than That. could still want to shatter tha #sheet of glass between himself and seemingly everyone else (even Rella to be honest. if only because she almost left him behind too). how #would he not lean into being seen as something special. whether he fully believed the narrative others were spinning or not #i dunno i see a lot of people talking about their Lavellan pushing back against the narrative from the start but i kind of like the #idea of going along with it. thinking it won't get that far and surely he can correct it if it does. he's in charge after all. right? only #to get hit harder than an avalanche by the realization that he's not in control after all. he can direct as many forces as he wants #but he can't change how he'll be remembered. how he's already being remembered. and he contributed to it too? i dunno his specific #combination of pride and insecurity and need to just Belong. to just belong as himself. is. compelling #If anyone is reading this Ive seen posts about all Lavellans having the same personality but no one's elaborated? am i just doing that?#i actually want to know. you know. assuming anyone is reading this.#i dunno just thinking about his continuous need to prove himself for so many reasons (partially because of Rella too since #yeah Rella is a mage but not the first or anything. she's just there because people knew she had nowhere else to go). okay I'll shut up now #but yeah what is this Standard Lavellan Personality i keep hearing about?#original posts #but like. something something he's being discarded again but he understands it this time and he can't fight it and just

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street-smarts00 · 4 months ago

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in omnia paratus

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: Spencer's been on the fence with his feelings for you. Due to his past traumas he’s decided to keep his feelings hidden. Until you’re caught in a dangerous situation at work

WC: 3.5 k

A/N: I am SO SORRY this took so long. I’ve been sitting on this for two months because I was being a perfectionist and had writer's block. Thank you so much to the person who requested this idea and I hope ya’ll like it! beta read by @whats-yesterday00

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Protective!spencer, Friends to lovers, age gap (25 and idk 33 or 34), during season 9 (sadly no post prison Reid, I refuse to watch the show after Derek & Hotch leave), Maeve is implied

Warnings!: mentions of murder, stalking, gunshot wounds, hostage situation and incorrect info about hostage situation cause Idk I'm not in the FBI

Everyone knew Spencer Reid had a soft spot for you. Well, everyone except for you.

Since the moment you met you’ve been on his mind.

“Do you know how old she is?”

“No, how old is she?”

“25!” Penelope squeaked before being shushed by Rossi.

“Wow, she’s gotta be the youngest person to ever be in the BAU. Well, second to genius over here,” JJ commented while pointing to Reid.

“That’s if she gets the job,” Morgan added.

They were all crowded around the desks in front of Hotch’s office. The blinds were cracked and they could just barely make out the woman seated across from their boss for an interview.

Due to the increase in caseload after Alex joined, Hotch made the request to add an additional member of the team. After interviewing a few people that didn’t pan out, he heard quite a bit about you from your supervisor saying how well you’ve done with the FBI and you’d be an exceptional fit for the team.

Then of course Penelope looked up everyone who was interviewing with Hotch. You being her most recent victim.

“How long has she been with the FBI?” Alex questioned.

“Three years,” Penelope answered

“What? Did she join right after college?”

“Not right away. She graduated early and got experience with law enforcement first.”

Spencer sat at his desk quietly while everyone was peering into Hotch’s office. Not to say he wasn’t nosy as well. You were already behind the blinds when he arrived for work.

“Oh they’re shaking hands! That has to be a good sign,” Penelope cheered.

Morgan turned to the window, “It’s definitely not a bad one.”

Her eyes widened before loudly whispering, “Oh no they’re leaving. Disperse.”

She scurried off in her heels towards Derek’s desk while he followed behind with a grin. JJ, and Rossi averted their eyes from Hotch’s office and found Alex’s desk far more interesting.

All while Spencer’s attention was brought to the woman led down the stairs by his boss. It felt like his heart stopped beating when he saw how beautiful you were. He was brought back to earth as Hotch introduced you to the rest of the team.

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he gestured to the man sitting at his desk.

You offered him a small wave and a kind smile, “Nice to meet you.”

It became quite obvious you two would get along very well. From very early on conversation flowed incredibly well between the two of you. There were very few people that he felt were easy to talk to because of his niche interests and the way he would ramble spitting facts left and right.

But he never had to worry about saying the wrong thing or talking too much with you. You often were a content listener or you would even match his passion on certain subjects. Most were topics Spencer already knew about.

When you first met Spencer you didn’t know the Dr in his name meant he held 3 PhD’s or that he was quite literally a genius.

So you were often telling stories or facts you found interesting that he already knew. In fact, almost every “fun fact” you brought up, he knew about already.

But he never interrupted you. He always was listening intently to what you had to say. Like he was hearing about it for the first time.

At some point you learned of his eidetic memory and how vast his knowledge was. It was during a case where you found out and mentioned it to him.

“Reid, remember when we were at the harbor and I mentioned that thing about sharks?” You hesitated, “did you know that already?”

“Yes,” he guiltily admitted.

You partially deflated suddenly feeling that the whole tangent you went on was pointless. “Why did you let me go on and on if you already knew?”

His eyes softened, “because I wanted to hear you talk about it.”

That was when his feelings started to peek through. As the months went on it only grew and grew. And you were none the wiser.

To the average person, it might not seem like much. Perhaps you were just good friends. But to a team of profilers (and best friends) it was painfully obvious.

It was almost painful the way he looked at you with a longing in his eyes. Or when his gaze immediately turned to you to catch your reaction or smile.

It was obvious by the way he found any excuse to bring you up in conversation. Or how in conversation with you he would mirror your mannerisms and lean closer to you.

As well as the things he remembered about you or the little things he did for you. Like the countless coffee cups he bought for you from his favorite coffee shop before work. And when he saw you struggling to find something or open something he was always right there to help.

Spencer Reid had feelings for you. Feelings so deep that he couldn’t pull the roots out even if he tried.

He didn’t know what to do with his feelings exactly. He hadn’t felt this strongly for someone since … well for a while. He was terrified of history repeating itself.

He couldn't lose you. He’d seen first hand what this job did to him, what it did to Hotch. Their loved ones ripped away from them too soon.

So for now at least, he kept his feelings to himself.

Well, until your last case.

The BAU was called in on a case that just turned serial. They found the unsub to be a man named Mark, who started killing because his girlfriend cheated on him. The first two victims reminded him of the man she cheated with. When that didn’t satisfy him, he hunted down and killed the other man.

Now the team and SWAT was stationed outside a bus that Mark was holding hostage. He stalked his ex-girlfriend and tracked down the new city bus she took.

The officers couldn’t get a clear shot of him because of where he was standing and he kept using the passengers as shields. Rossi was currently on the phone with him trying to make negotiation terms and get some of the people off the bus. Mark however was incredibly stubborn and didn’t want to let his leverage go.

So Rossi asked about the children on the bus and if Mark would be willing to let them off. They were met with silence on the other end of the phone, contrary to his previous behavior where he loved to hear himself talk.

After a short pause the phone spoke. “I’ll only send out the kids if you send in an agent.”

Rossi shifted his weight and crossed his arms. “Are there any other circumstances you’re willing to send out the children for?” he asked.

“Nope,” he said with a pop at the end of the word.

A look of concern was quickly exchanged between Rossi and Hotch. While their faces didn’t reveal much, their eyes spoke volumes.

“How about this,” the unsub continued. “I’ll send out their moms too.”

Rossi’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at the eagerness to comply from the criminal. “You’ll send out the children and their mothers if we send in one of our agents?”

“I promise.”

Rossi returned his eyes to Hotch who stood rigid and tall with his arms folded. He was met with an approving nod before returning to the call.

“Alright, we can agree to those terms.”

“Oh and agent Rossi?” Mark perked.

“Yes?”

“Send in a girl.”

There was a tension that quietly branched out between the agents listening to the phone call.

“Why do you want a woman?” Rossi asked, clearly changing the dialogue used.

“I’m losing too many ladies sending out these moms. I want one back,” he replied with a cockiness to his voice.

Ross confirmed they could send in a female agent. Almost immediately after the unsub hung up, you volunteered to be the agent going on the bus.

“I’ll do it.”

Spencer’s head shot in your direction. “No you're not.” His voice was laced with concern and a hint of demand.

“Reid-”

“He specifically asked for a woman. We don’t know what he’s planning, he’s devolving.”

“And I’m willing to take that risk to make sure those kids are safe,” You defended yourself.

You turned to your boss waiting for his thoughts. Hotch knew you’d been exposed to enough high tension scenarios to know what you were doing. But just like any member of his team, he silently hesitated, worrying for your safety.

He took a breath before meeting your eyes again. “Send her in.”

Right before you were led to the bus, Hotch took off the holster on his ankle and handed it to you. “Some extra protection in case something happens.” You couldn’t hear the concern in his voice, but you saw it clear as day in his eyes.

You made your way to the bus and saw through the window Mark holding a gun to the driver and telling him to open the door. You stepped on and the doors closed quickly behind you. The unsub took a long look at you, panning up and down.

“Well how about that. Aren’t you a beauty? He said with a cheeky grin.

You tried your hardest not to look disgusted with him. Instead you kept your composure and spoke with courage and a confident demeanor.

“You this flirty with all your hostages?” you asked plainly.

As he gazed down at your legs his eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. He bent down and with the gun in his hand, pushed away the bottom of your pants leg. When he saw the gun in the holster, he tsked.

“You always carry this much dead weight on you?”

He stood back up and put his hand out, “hand it over, I told them no weapons.”

You reluctantly took off Hotch’s holster and placed it in the unsubs hand. Your one line of defense was gone.

The longer you were on the bus, the more anxious Spencer got. He knew you were an exceptional profiler, and you had enough experience and skill to handle yourself in situations like this.

But that couldn’t stop the ache in his stomach or the fact that his heart rate could power a car by now.

He stood closer to the bus now to get a clearer view of the windows. They managed to successfully get the children and moms off and to safety, but you weren’t safe. Spencer figured you were trying to negotiate with the unsub, but that was going nowhere. This was confirmed when Rossi tried calling him again but every call was ignored.

This unsub was stubborn as hell. He knows he trapped himself, but didn’t want to back down. At least he didn’t want to go quietly.

Spencer was talking with the rest of the team trying to devise a plan when the gunshots were fired. The team immediately ran back to the cacophony on the bus.

More shots were fired, he didn’t know where from. He didn’t care.

He just needed to get to you.

When he got a decent view through one of the windows that hadn’t shattered he saw you. Your hand over arm in pain but still standing in front of the civilians to protect them. The unsub stalking over to you, gun in hand and smacking you over the head with it. You slammed against the chairs and fell to the floor.

Spencer's face paled. He swore he was going to throw up.

Through the fog of his mind Spencer saw Morgan escorting Mark off the bus, his hands now behind his back in cuffs.

He rushed past them, clambering through the door and up the stairs to get to you, calling your name.

“Reid?” he heard your small tired voice through the crowd.

He followed it to you, laying on the ground struggling to open your eyes and clutching your left arm.

He crouched down to your level with a gentle hand on your uninjured arm.

“Hey, I’m here. I’m right here,” he comforted.

“My head hurts,” you mumbled.

His eyes softened, “I know. I think you might have a concussion, you need to go to the hospital.”

You slowly started to fade out of consciousness. Spencer’s heart dropped and his hand moved from your arm to your face.

“No no no no stay with me okay?” he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“Stay with me sweetheart,” he consoled.

Your eyes stopped struggling to stay open and finally made their close. His other hand rushed to your pulse point as he called for a medic.

Time seemed to stand still while Spencer sat next to your hospital bed waiting for you to wake up. He couldn’t leave your side. He didn’t want to.

You were okay. You were laying in the bed in front of him. But of course in his mind he ran through all the possible scenarios of how things could’ve gone worse, how things could’ve gone better. What would’ve happened if you didn’t have your gun taken away, or if the unsub got angry that you tried to bring a gun in. What if he didn’t lose his cool and start firing. What if you never went inside in the first place.

And with all of those possible scenarios, the same thought plagued him.

He was wrong.

Before he was too scarred from past traumas to reveal just how much you meant to him. Not wanting to repeat the past and lose yet another person he loved cared for.

But now, after seeing you in danger right in front of him, now he was terrified at the thought of you never knowing. He was now more scared you would never know how much he loved the way your nose crinkled when you smiled. How he thought the sound of your voice could cure any ailment he had. How he admired your strength and desire to protect others. How you could light up anyone's mood by just being you. How he could listen to you for hours, even if you were lecturing him on things he’d known like the back of his hand.

To him it was a whole new experience hearing it from you.

Spencer was pulled from his thoughts as you stirred awake. He saw your eyes adjust to the bright fluorescent lights ahead. He quickly got up to dim the lights for you.

When he returned to his seat you smiled at him, “hi.”

“Hi,” he smiled back.

“How are you feeling?”

You sighed. “Like shit,” you complained with a hint of humor.

“The doctor said you have a minor head injury, bruised ribs, and the shot to your arm thankfully didn’t break any bones.”

“Fun,” you said sarcastically.

A moment of silence passes between you two. He doesn’t exactly know what to say. How do you casually tell your friend and coworker you have a crush on them?

There is no casual way.

“You called me sweetheart,” you broke the silence.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What?”

You fidget with the blanket, “earlier, when I passed out on the bus. You called me sweetheart.”

He searches his mind for the memories of the day. When he finds the memory he realizes in the heat of the moment the term of endearment slipped out.

He wasn’t aware you heard it.

“I did,” he confirmed as his ears flushed.

“Why?” you asked curiously.

He didn’t know how to tell you that he’s wanted to call you that for weeks now. So instead he settled with-

“It just … felt right.”

“Oh,” you replied quietly.

Spencer tensed up at your response.

“If I crossed the line-“

“No. Of course not,” you interrupted with a comforting voice.

The corners of your mouth lifted and cheeks dusted pink. “I thought it was sweet. You don’t normally say stuff like that.”

His heart warmed at your confession and a smile spread on his face.

“You thought me calling you sweetheart was sweet?” he lightly teased.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Your laughter was cut short by a sharp pain in your abdomen. You bit down on your lip and gripped the side of the bed in pain.

The reality that you were injured on the job was rushing back to him.

He licked his lips, his nervous unconscious habit.

“I was really worried about you.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” he interjected.

“The entire time you were on that bus I was sick to my stomach. Terrified that something bad was gonna happen and it did,” he started to ramble.

You leaned closer to him. ”But I’m okay Reid.”

“You still got hurt. He shot you for christ sake!” his voice raising in pitch and volume.

“Reid-”

“He lashed out at you! You could’ve died!”

“Spencer,” you said firmly, pulling his attention towards you.

He never heard you say his name before. No matter how many times he said you could call him Spencer, you still called him Reid. Hearing his name fall from your lips was like the consistency of honey.

You placed your hands on his face caressing his cheek. His golden eyes meet yours.

“I’m alright. I’m still here,” you consoled.

“But if-“

“Spencer.”

“Please,” he pleaded. “It’s important.”

You nodded your head, signaling for him to continue. He gently grabbed your wrists and brought your hands in his. He took a deep breath before he decided to spill the thing that had been eating away at his heart.

“I have feelings for you. I have for a long time. Almost as long as you’ve been at the BAU,” he started.

With your hands in his he started tracing his thumb over your knuckles.

“If we don’t have work I count down the days until I can see you again. When I do see you I desperately want to see you smile, see you happy. And if I’m the one that causes that smile, it makes my whole day. That’s why I never interrupted when you talked about something I already knew. The way your face lit up when you talked with such passion was the highlight of my day.”

“For months I was scared of my feelings and I kept them to myself. I was too scared to admit how much I liked you because I-” his hold on your hands tightened.

“I know what it feels like to lose someone. This job takes so much from us; I never wanted it to take you.”

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

“Today I realized it would be more painful if I went the rest of my life not telling you, than having even a fraction of a moment with you.”

A moment of silence danced between you two. Your head reeling from his confession, heart beating so hard you could feel it in your bones. Your palms sweaty from holding onto Spencers, but still neither of you let go.

The silence was deafening, plaguing him.

“Please … say something,” he begged.

Your lash line was collecting tears that you simultaneously tried blinking away. Your eyes found his tie less intimidating than his gaze.

“I never thought you would like me back,” you said with a soft tone.

Spencer's cheeks turned red as his heart started melting. “I do.”

You brought your eyes back to his. That precious smile on his face was infectious.

“Listen,” you squeezed his hands. “I’m not going anywhere. So you have as much time with me as you want.”

Spencer's eyes softened at your words. He raised your hands and placed a loving kiss on your knuckles.

The two of you were too lost in eachother to notice the footsteps towards the room.

“Hey, I found some Jello for her if she-” Alex abruptly stopped once she noticed what she walked into.

You both awkwardly pulled your hands away from each other; you fiddling with the hospital blanket, him rubbing his palms on his slacks.

“So, feeling better?” she asked hesitantly.

“Much,” you answered, still a bit flustered.

“Good, good to hear,” She tried not to sound too smug, but the small smile on her face said otherwise.

She raised and shook the jello container in her hand.

“I’m gonna leave this here,” she placed it on the table. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Thanks Blake,” you thanked as she left.

Once she was gone you quietly giggled and mumbled “oh my god,” under your breath.

“You know, she kept teasing me asking when I was going to ask you out. And don’t even get me started on Morgan,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

Your jaw dropped and eyes furrowed. “Did everyone else know but me?”

He pressed his lips in a thin line, “pretty much.”

“I must be a shitty profiler,” you half joked.

“Absolutely not,” he said in the most comforting voice. He brushed the hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear.

“You’re an amazing profiler.”

You smiled that smile he loved so much. The one where you couldn’t hide your joy and your nose crinkled.

“So, how do you think you’ll spend all those moments with me?” you inquired with a bit of a teasing tone.

“Doing anything sweetheart,” he answered seriously. He looked at you with awe written all over your face. “I'm ready for anything with you.”

“in omnia paratus” - ready for anything

Tag asks: @adrienneleclerc @ladybirdbeetle7

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst

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ferociouslycreativemystery · 2 months ago

Text

En såndär bockjävel eller vad fan det heter

↳ sytråd och virknål 0,6 mm + bonus: biblically accurate julbock

Note: I moved this under a read more since donations can no longer be made here. Feel free to make some to a charity of your choice though!

Did you know it used to be the Christmas goat that brought you your presents in Sweden?

To keep the spirit alive, you can officially make a donation in the name of this little crochet goat to support everyone's right to survive their pregnancy! Just go to this link and follow these steps:

Please note that this collection only remains active until 15 Dec 2024! More information about the organisers can be found at the bottom of this post.

On the right hand side/top of the linked page, you can see the current sum of donations. Below that are some options we need to fill out to make a donation of our own.

First we need to disclose whether the donation is being made by a private individual (Privatperson) or a business (Företag). I'm assuming you're a private individual, so leave the first option selected (on the left).

Next we choose the method of payment. "Swish" is a Swedish payment service that won't work for foreigners, and if you're Swedish I'm assuming you already know how it works. Foreigners, please choose the second option to pay by card (Kort).

Now for the fun bit! How much do you want to donate? The standard options are presented in Swedish krona (kr). I have put the rough exchange rates to US dollars for each option below:

50 kr ≈ $4.56 | 100 kr ≈ $9.13 | 300 kr ≈ $27.38

You can convert from your currency to Swedish krona using this tool. Just choose your own currency in the first drop-down menu ("from").

In the final field you have the option to instead enter your own amount, if you want to give less or more or in between any of the previous options. Note that the amount you enter is in Swedish krona, so look up the exchange rates so that you know how much you are giving if you choose this option!!

The final two check boxes are options that relate to the public display of your donation (see the bottom of the page). If you don't check either option, your donation amount will be visible but your name will not be.

Check the first box if you want your name to show up in the public list of donations, leave it unchecked to remain anonymous. Check the second box if you want to hide the amount you've donated, leave it unchecked to show the world your donation amount.

Finally, hit the red button to be taken to the payment page. Fulfil the payment, and be sure to double check the amount you're donating. Note that we use commas instead of dots to separate decimals in Swedish, so 50,00 kr means simply 50 kr.

And that's it! Thank you so much for your donation!! 🥳🐐

Please reblog this post so that more people will hopefully donate, or at least get to enjoy a tiny Gävlebock!

What is this charity thing?

Musikhjälpen is an annual charity event organised by the Swedish public broadcasters. Every year in December, 3 hosts are locked in a glass cage for a week and they broadcast in shifts, nonstop for 144 hours (6 days, 24 hours per day) to create an occasion for charity donations. They are visited by various music artist, celebrities, and talk to people who have special knowledge about the donation theme of the year or who organise initiatives for donations. You can watch clips of previous performances on their youtube channel here.

The event's official donations website also allows the public to set up their own "initiatives", to which donations can be made. This is what I have done! The money goes directly to the event organisers (the public broadcasters' aid agency, Radiohjälpen), who then pool all the money that is collected during the week. After the week is done they will begin portioning it out to trusted charities that are relevant to this year's theme. This year's theme is Alla har rätt att överleva sin graviditet, or in English: Everyone Has a Right to Survive Their Pregnancy.

Learn more about musikhjälpen on English Wikipedia or on Sveriges radio's website (in Swedish).

If you prefer, the goat will be just as happy if you make a donation to a charity of your choice. You'll have to find links to other causes on your own though! 😊

I should probably also mention that I am in no way officially affiliated with Gävlebocken, I just crocheted a little guy and thought it would be nice to spread some constructive spirit among all the calls for arson. 😇

#got a bunch of old crochet hooks from my grandmother in gästrikland (where gävle is)#so of course this had to be the first project I made with them #that said. fuck those horns #stitching it all together was fun though #tiny crafting is my favourite #maddie's yarn tag #gävlebocken #gävle goat #gavlebocken #gavle goat #sweblr #all makt åt tengil vår befriare #sa du sten #crochet #crochetblr #fiber art #fiber crafts #musikhjälpen

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paddockletters · 15 days ago

Text

secretly yours | oscar piastri

summary: oscar and his childhood best friend secretly dated for years, but an accidental reveal Lando sends fans into a frenzy. request: yes! sorry took me too long :((

oscarpiastri

liked by lando norris and 182,763 others

oscarpiastri: it's just me and my best friend

view all the comments

user1: STOP PLAYING WITH US, OSCAR. WE SEE THE CHEMISTRY 😭

user2: i see you’re trying to pretend nothing’s going on, but we’re not fooled!!!

user3: just? J U S T? Please. we all know there’s more going on here than 'just' best friends 👀

user4: yeah, it’s just you two. And the ENTIRE WORLD watching you two 👀

user5: just? are we watching the same race? bc i see a love story unfolding and I’m LIVING for it 😭😭

user6: do you mean 'just' best friends? because that’s DEFINITELY not how we see it 👀

user7: she’s literally the only person on earth who gets to be with you like this, and we’re all just over here screaming

user8: just 'best friends’... okay, Oscar. keep telling yourself that while we all make wedding plans 🫠

user9: osc, you don’t have to pretend. We’re all just waiting for the 'I’m in love with my best friend' post 😭😭

user10: he´s trying to pretend it's just him and his best friend while we all know they're this close to being the hottest couple in F1 💀

yourusername posted stories

oscarpiastri

liked by lewishamilton and 967,863 others

oscarpiastri: What a year. Memories I’ll never forget. Here’s to 2024. 🖤

view all comments

user1: NOT YOU SNEAKING HER INTO THE DUMP. We see you, Oscar 👀❤️

user2: Photos 4 and 7??? Sir, care to explain why you’re casually dropping your soulmate into the mix like it’s no big deal? 😭

user3: everyone’s talking about the podiums, but I’m here for y/n and Oscar are clearly in love' subplot. 🫠

user4: We all know who made this year unforgettable for you, and it’s not the trophy, Oscar. Just admit it 😏

user5: photo 7 is giving: 'the love of my life, but I’m still too cool to say it'

user6: Oscar out here winning races AND soft-launching his girlfriend again

user7: the subtlety is killing me. Like, we get it, you’re in love

user8: this isn’t even a photo dump; it’s a declaration of love disguised as one

user9: Y/N making two appearances? Yeah..

user10: the way he’s just casually smiling in those photos with her... Yeah, I’m unwell. 🫠😭

landonorris: Two pics of Y/N? Are we sure this is a 'year' dump, or are you just casually announcing something, Oscar? 🤔

↪user11: LANDO WE SEE YOU! 😂 The REAL tea is in the comments section, right here

↪user12: bro, Lando is practically the third wheel in Oscar’s relationship at this point. Why is he always dropping hints? 😭😭

↪user13: lol Lando’s comment is the funniest thing I’ve seen all year. Just admit it, we all know what’s going on. 🫠

↪user14: tt this point, I’m just waiting for Lando to show up at the wedding like ‘I told you so’ 💀

yourusername

liked by landonorris and 273,973 others

yourusername: Dinner my favourite person 🖤 (and no, Lando, that doesn’t include you)

view all comments

user1: Not Lando catching strays in the caption 💀

user2: You and Oscar are literally the blueprint for 'childhood best friends to soulmates. I’m sobbing 😭❤️

user3: Okay but… can we talk about how you guys look SO perfect together?

user4: Lando reading this post like 👁️👄👁️

user5: Imagine being this photogenic AND dating Oscar Piastri

user6: Just me and my single, lonely heart, staring at these pictures like 🥲

user7: If this isn’t the softest thing I’ve ever seen. You guys are the real-life definition of couple goals 🥹💞

user8: Oscar when he’s with you >>> everything else in this world

user9: y’all just admitted you’re dating without saying it, and honestly, I’m here for this soft launch 👀

user10: do you guys just wake up every day and decide to be the cutest people alive, or does it happen naturally?

landonorris: Excuse me, I’m right here, and I thought I was your favourite person 🤔💔

↪user11: Lando out here acting like he didn’t just make the biggest hint about them being a thing in the last interview 😂

landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri and 1,929,651 others

lando norris: Just some wholesome moments from the weekend. ❤️🤪

1️⃣ Me getting my 5th victory.

2️⃣ Pastry getting a ice bath.

3️⃣ Oh, and this accidental gem… whoops

view all the comments

user1: HELLO?? LANDO?? WHAT IS THIS? 😳👀

user2: Couple goals??? EXCUSE ME??? EXPLAIN RIGHT NOW

user3: Lando casually dropping the biggest bombshell of 2025 like it’s no big deal 💀

user4: So… you’re telling me Oscar’s in love and didn’t even TELL US?!? 😭❤️

user5: This isn’t even subtle. LANDO, YOU HAD ONE JOB

user6: i don’t know if I want to scream at Lando or thank him

user7: not me zooming in like a detective ans yep, they’re definitely together

user8: lando, you better start running because Oscar is coming for you

user9: the way Oscar’s entire personality SCREAMED 'taken,' and now we finally know why

user10: accidental??? sure lando. this was 100% intentional and we love you for it

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername and 3,981,519 others

oscarpiastri: Well, I guess the secret’s out… 😅. No more pretending we’re just ‘best friends’—we’re way past that. ❤️

view all the comments

user1: OH MY GOD. THE REVEAL!!! I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS SINCE FOREVER 😭

user2: HE DID IT. HE OFFICIALLY ADMITTED IT

user3: I KNEW IT. I was starting to think I was imagining all the tension between them. THEY’RE SO CUTE!!!

user4: THANK YOU OSCAR, FOR FINALLY ENDING MY SUFFERING

user5: Oscar confirmed it and suddenly my heart is doing 200 mph. This is EVERYTHING 🤧🤧

user6: this is the confirmation we didn’t know we needed, but now that we have it, everything makes sense

user7: from 'best friends' to ‘officially us’? I’m dead. They’re too perfect

yourusername

liked by landonorris and 1,428, 823 others

yourusername: Okay, okay… So maybe the ‘best friends’ thing wasn’t fooling anyone. We’re officially more than that (and yes, we’ve been laughing about this whole ‘secret relationship’ thing for a long time)

view all the comments

user1: I KNEW IT. ‘best friends’ my foot. this was the 'softest' launch ever 😂

user2: okay, but are we gonna talk about how Oscar looks SO much more relaxed now? The man’s freeeeee!!!!

user3: guess it was obvious? babes, it’s been obvious since DAY ONE. We just needed you to admit it

user4: so, are we gonna pretend like we didn’t see the way you two look at each other like no one else exists??

user5: Oscar and you basically saying ‘yeah, I’ve been OBVIOUS about it, but I needed to make it official’

user6: i am literally sobbing at how cute this is and i'm HERE for it

user 7: i knew it! THE SMILES. THE ENERGY. y’all were never fooling anyone. 💀

landonorris: guess i’ve been replaced as your partner in crime, huh? 🤔

↪ oscarpiastri: so much for keeping secrets, mate. Appreciate the unintentional PR move though 🙄

↪yourusername: landonorris Haha, it’s okay, you can still be my partner in crime. Just… don’t share too many ‘accidental’ pics, okay?

danielricciardo: wow, Lando’s getting everyone in trouble these days. what’s next, is he revealing mine and max ‘bromance’?? 😂"

↪landonorris: only if you and max finally admit were the real power couple of the paddock 🫣💁‍♂️

maxverstappen1: About time, guys 👏🏻

↪yourusername: haha, well, Lando’s definitely claiming the credit for all of this. Can’t say we didn’t try to keep it lowkey

2K notes · View notes

nevvdrinksteaa · 9 months ago

Note

PLEASE Spencer answering a work call in the middle of sex??? Super smutty

just wanna say that this is my first request and it makes me feel special so thank you !!! hopefully you like this <3

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: 18+ nsfw smut, porn with small plot, afab reader, fingering, p in v sex, post prison spence, riding, doggy style, and missionary (yall were busy), spitting kink !!, spanking (once?), face slapping (i’m not sorry), slight oral (f receiving), lots of pet names (baby, angel, pretty girl), let me know if i missed anything !!

word count: 1.8k (got a little carried away)

also note to everyone- y’all absolutely devoured my spencer post the other day, a little less than 800 notes last i checked, and i just want to say i was very caught off guard and appreciate it so much !!

+ i apologize for the overuse of commas & very limited vocabulary,, i feel like i used the same 10 words smh

+ NOT PROOF READ !!

~~~

“i was able to talk to the brass about getting the week off. the past few weeks have been tough and i think we all need a well deserved break.”

you were all gathered in the round table room for a meeting emily called. in the past two weeks, the team had been assigned three back to back cases; which meant three different unsubs, three different cities, and three different hotel rooms. you hadn’t slept in your own bed in fifteen days, already feeling giddy at the thought of snuggling up in your bed, binge watching mindless reality tv, and fueling yourself with nothing but sweet treats.

matt was the first to speak, already standing up gathering his things from the table, “as much as i love you all i’m going to rush home to the wife and kids, i miss their little faces”

you all followed suit, collecting all of your belongings and saying your goodbyes, all of you raving about your week off plans. you walked to your desk, grabbing your bag and keys. you walked towards the elevator, pressing the down button, watching it slowly fall from floor 10 to floor 9, before tapping your foot, slightly agitated about how long it seemed to be taking.

you heard footsteps heading your way, small taps on sneakers on the slick marble floor, before felt a slight nudge at your side “you know, being mad at it won’t make it work any faster”

you chuckle looking up, making eye contact with spencer before giving him a small grin. “i’m just really ready to get home.”

the elevator doors open, spencer waved his hand up, allowing you to go first, before following you in and pressing the main lobby button. “you in such a rush because you have a hot date to get to?”

you looked up at him and grinned, you felt spencer’s hand move to your back, rubbing the center in small circles with your thumb. you felt your face get hot and you allowed yourself to slightly lean into his touch. the elevator stopped at the lobby, a small chime signaling the doors opening, and you felt spencer’s hand fall back to his side before you both stepped out of the box.

you both made your way to the parking garage, spencer walking you to your car before he headed towards the station to take the subway. you got to your car, unlocking it and throwing your purse inside before looking up at him with a slight smirk “text me when you’re on your way”

he shook his head and laughed as he gave you a small wave goodbye and headed towards the subway.

~~~

it had only been three days since you were given the week off, enjoying the company of spencer in your bed two thirds of those nights. he texted you the same night as the encounter in the parking garage, eager to see you in a private setting.

“look how pretty you look sitting on my cock”

you were straddling him, your head thrown back with both hands on his shoulders as you tried to keep a quick pace. he had his hands pressed deep into your hips, helping you move in a fluid motion. you felt him hit your sweet spot every time you made your way down, letting out tiny whimpers at the feeling.

“i love when you use me like this, getting yourself off like a good girl”

you couldn’t hold in the loud moan you had been holding, feeling your stomach flutter at his words. you felt a slight burning in your thighs and you knew spencer’s shoulders held tiny crescent shapes from how tight your grip had become. you felt one of spencer’s hands move to your clit, rubbing small circles on the bundle of nerves.

he grabbed your chin, making you look him in the eyes. you looked at him and grinned, fucked out and eager before you felt a sudden surge against your cheek before he let his hand rest there, rubbing his thumb to ease the pain.

“you gonna cum for me angel?”

“fuck- yes spence, i’m so- so close” you couldn’t even hear the words coming out of your mouth, your heartbeat beating so loud your hearing going out.

you moved your head down pushing your forehead to spencer’s with your eyes tight.

“cum for me baby, wanna feel you tighten around my cock.”

you felt that tight feeling in your stomach, the mix of his skilled fingers and his thick cock rubbing against your walls caused your breath to stop in your throat, your release making you see stars. you stopped your movement, breathing heavily as you leaned down into spencer. you felt soft kisses on your head and face, peppering you all over.

“did so good for me baby, love watching you use me”

you smiled against his neck, starting to do your own kissing. you felt his breath hitch when you found the sweet spot behind his ear, the small mole behind it always guiding you to the exact spot. you took your time, sucking and biting at the spot, grinding your hips, ready to keep going.

spencer gave your thigh a quick tap, before telling you to bend over. you were quick to roll over, propping yourself up on your hands and knees before slowly wiggling yourself back and forth to him.

you felt a sharp pain on your ass, a slight stinging feeling before you felt a tight grip run through your hair. you felt your body being pulled tightly to his, his chest flushed against your back. he moved one of his hands to your chest, a his fingers glazing your nipple, his other moving to your neck, pushing his thumb and middle finger to just the right spot to apply pressure.

“i let you use me, now it’s my turn to use you angel” spencer had leaned down to your ear, kissing your jaw before pushing you back down onto the bed.

spencer leaned down slightly, gripping your ass with both hands before spreading them. he let a trail of spit fall to your eager hole, before he rubbed it onto your pussy, giving your clit extra attention.

you moaned and pushed back into his touch before you felt him enter you quick and unforgiving, your ass jiggling with every move of his hips.

“fuck- so fucking deep” you arched your back, begging your body to somehow take him deeper. you felt his firm calloused hands rub against your back before settling into a position on your hips, his thumbs pressing small bruises into your skin.

“taking me so fuck-”

spencer’s voice was cut off by his phone ringing, vibrating on the nightstand beside you, and you felt his hips slow down, letting out a soft sigh as he was considering stopping completely.

you felt him hesitate but needed him to keep going, pushing your hips back into his trying to keep both of your focus.

“spence, please don’t stop” your voice still unsteady, “just ignore it”

spencer pulled out of you, and you let out a whine as the loss of contact. you rolled yourself over, making yourself comfortable on the pillows expecting him to walk away to return the call.

instead he leaned back over you and pulled you into a deep kiss, holding your face in both hands. your lips parting slightly when you felt his tongue lick your bottom lip, allowing your tongues to meet.

spencer grabbed his dick, rubbing over your clit before he lined himself up with you, gasping when he pushed himself in.

“you’re so fucking perfect angel”

he pulled away, lifting your legs up to your shoulders and latching his hands to your thighs. he found himself moving slow and deep, like he was trying to memorize the way you felt around him.

you moved your hands to play with your nipples, rolling the hard buds between your finger tips. he bent down, pushing his weight into you, almost like he was folding you. he pooled spit into his mouth before he let it go to your clit, moving his hand to the bundle of nerves.

“want you to cum again for me pretty girl, want one more before i fill you up”

you let out a moan, sighing before you went to speak “gonna fill me-”

you were cut off by the phone ringing again, the buzzing sound making you forget your thoughts. spencer dropped your thighs and leaned over before giving you a quick kiss before he reached over to grab phone.

“spencer do not answer that”

he moved his finger to his lips, making a shushing motion “it’s emily”

you rolled your eyes, ready to kick him out and finish yourself off before heading to bed when you felt him move again. he moved his hand to cover your mouth before answering the phone.

“doctor reid”

you felt yourself get wetter, the sound of your slick filling the room, your moan mumbled behind his hand. spencer’s motion was relentless, his pace quick and brutal, jabbing your sweet spot with every push.

“i thought we were getting the week off”

your leg was lifted up, making the angle even deeper and you felt your eyes roll back, out of pleasure or annoyance you couldn’t tell. there was no way you were getting called in.

“i can get a hold of her for you, i remember her mentioning something about having a date this week”

you grinned, giggling behind his hand before spencer moved the phone to hold it on his shoulder, letting his now free hand to move back down. he never took his eyes off you, holding a shit eating grin as he felt you squeezing him tighter, squirming at how close you were. you furrowed your brows and pinched your eyes shut.

“i’ll be there in an hour”

you heard the phone beep, signaling the call was disconnected. spencer moved his hand away from your mouth down to your neck, cursing as he heard you gasp.

“did so good for me pretty girl”

his hips stopped deep inside you as you felt his cock twitch, filling you up. he groaned as he felt you cumming again, keeping his thumb in place to help your orgasm finish and you let a loud moan out in response. spencer gave you a long kiss, nipping at your bottom lip before he trailed his lips down your neck. he pulled himself out of you, grinning at the soft sigh you let out. he kept his lips on your body, trailing them down your stomach before reaching your thighs and nipping at the sensitive skin.

he moved his tongue and licked a long strip up your pussy, sucking on your clit before pulling up to look at you, shit eating grin on his face. “we’ve got roughly 30 minutes, that’s enough time for me to help you clean up, right angel?”

#nev writes #prison spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds

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fairene · 7 months ago

Text

beneath the moonlight / ln4

vacay lando norris x maxf!littlesister

no use of y/n, as always.

prompt ⋯ ohhh hey ! wanted to stop by to say i love ur fic and wanted to request insatiable lando with max f’s sister like a forbidden summer fling with all their friends and no one’s supposed to know about their secret relationship ( especially max ) — @444mercss

a/n ⋯ this was much longer than i intended, but the words just kept flowing out of me. thank you to all those who beta read my post and helped with grammar!!! ( @jamminvroomvroom , @theonottsbxtch ) you all helped so much. and thank you to mercs for requesting this. i didn't know i'd enjoy it as much as i did, but it definitely was for 20k words. i'll probably take a week ( or maybe not ) off from writing just to give myself a cool down period, but still here to answer any asks. feel free to pop in. hope you all enjoy this, and remember, readers looks are up for interpretation, along with the outfits. colors of coloring are mention only briefly!

warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, drinking, choking, p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, oral(m+f)!receiving, mutual masturbation, overstimulation, feral lando. best friends little sister, brothers best friend dynamic, mutual pining, 'games', horny thoughts. much, much more. but even, possession, jealousy. if i forgot any warnings, feel free to let me know.

wc ⋯ 20.1k (WHEWWW WEEE... edited by @jamminvroomvroom, @theonottsbxtch)

the summertime was one of your favorites. you and all of the rest of your girlfriend’s would spend each and every day together without question. but as time went on, they got their own lives. partners, engagements, jobs. not to say that you weren’t an accomplished young lady, but it was starting to show that you were hung up on a life that was starting to fade.

your brother on the other hand, was keen on keeping you in this life. in tip top shape on your toes, he’d always challenge you in a multitude of ways. or annoy you to no end. typically it was the latter.

but he had invited you this summer on vacation with his friends. you knew them all relatively well, texted here and there, but you never imagined to be trailing along on a villa getaway sponsored by the quadrant house, mainly the famous lando norris himself.

you would be shy to admit it, but you had a bit of a soft spot for lando. him and his cheeky smile. the moles that donned his face. his starlit eyes that radiated an emerald hue beneath the sunlight. it was intangible the way that you could pick apart the details about his nuanced beauty, but it was a secret for you to keep. a secret that no one, especially your brother, could ever find out about.

but that’s all that it was, wasn’t it?

a dream. a pathetic fantasy. you wouldn’t ever gain the courage to talk to him, make a move, despite how often him and max talk about going on dates with girls. talking about his love life, or the rather drab there of. he fucked around a lot, max knew that, and would consistently warn you to never get wrapped up in the same lifestyle as the british driver. you’d hold up your hands in defense, shrieking a ‘don’t worry about me,’ though you wish you gave him a reason to.

why did you feel undeserving of lando– because he was a formula one driver? attractive? charming? were you afraid that you were going to be friendzoned–? oh god, that would be the fucking worst, wouldn’t it? you could never imagine the hangouts being the same. so you’d bite your tongue until it bled, even when your body yearned for the heat of his own.

the villa that you would be staying at was on lake como in italy. it was a beautiful venue, a place that you’d been dreaming of visiting. max knew this, hence why he’d probably sniped you an invite. but it wasn’t like no one wanted you there. everyone did. that was the problem. you were so incredibly loved by all of max’s friends, that he kept them at arm’s length. no one would ever hurt his little sister. not while he was still breathing.

“wow,” you breathed, stepping out of the uber from the airport. the house before you was a stunning makeup of eccentric architecture that dated decades before your own birth. it was a grand building with tall, marble columns. thoroughly decorated landscaping, and even had running fountains in the front. you were so lost in your awe that you didn’t see the huge pair of mahogany doors swing open.

“max,” you turned your head towards your brother who was grabbing your bags from the trunk. you shifted to the source of the voice, finding the british driver standing barefoot with a beach flannel and short-inseam khaki shorts low around his waist. you gulped before looking anywhere else but him.

“lando!” max approached him, arm outstretched for a shake. lando met him half way down the marbled steps, taking his sunglasses off from the top of his head.

“how was the flight, mate? good?” max nodded for the both of you whilst you fiddled with the accessories around your hands. you didn’t ever know what to say to lando. you found yourself unbelievably speechless in his presence.

“not too bad, ‘specially if this is what you’ve got.” lando chuckled at your brother’s words, and then his eyes finally landed on you. you and your comfortable outfit from the plane ride over. you and your pulled back hair, respectfully messy, and the jewelry that adorned your fingers. his eyes caught over the bling, and how you anxiously picked away at the skin.

“never thought she’d grace our presence,” lando said jokingly, which had your head snapping upright. you flushed, sucking your bottom lip with your teeth.

max rolled his eyes, avoidant of the topic of you in general. “whatever, mate, she’s here now, in’she?” what? what was that supposed to mean? was your presence requested? you suddenly felt wanted above all things.

“she certainly is.” lando approached you with his tongue tucked behind his bottom lip, hasty in his steps. you stood up straighter with a light smile on your face, eyes twinkling away from his own. you couldn’t keep eye contact with him. “c’mon, love, i’ll take your bags.”

“are you sure? i can take–”

the bags were grabbed from your hands. you felt the palm of his own for just a moment— the warm flesh, humming low against his own. you felt like he spoke to you through your blood, but you let it go. lando norris wasn’t giving you special attention, that’s for sure.

you promised yourself that much. this whimsical, airy crush of yours needed to be vetted on the spot. he was your brother’s best friend, older than you, and certainly didn’t have time for a girl who wasn’t a celebrity.

right?

he took your bags through the exquisite villa. the interior was even more luxurious than you could ever imagine– floor to ceiling windows, candlelit ceiling lights, flora decorating each wall that you turned to. it smelled delectable, too, wafting germanium and coconut oil. the smile on your face couldn’t be ignored, as you shimmered brighter than the summer sun.

“you like it, then?” came lando’s voice. your head dropped, glancing at him from where he stood, waiting for you to join him on the steps. had he been watching your face?

“you’re joking.” you assured, hands clasped together. “it’s beautiful.”

lando smiled then, too, letting his lower lip snatch between his top teeth. he tried hard to conceal his happiness, but you felt like you could feel it amongst the air. you felt warm all of a sudden and cleared your throat, urging him forward up the spiraling staircase.

you walked in silence with him down the long corridors. you would pause before each door briefly, wondering if he was going to open it, but he didn’t. it wasn’t until you were reaching the ends of the hallway when he stopped, twisting the knob of the white wooden door. he stood aside, letting you in first.

the room you’d be staying in for the next few weeks was more than you could ever dream of. with its spacious interior, personal bathroom, and private balcony, you felt like the luckiest girl alive to be able to experience this. to live in this moment. to be here. in italy, of all places.

lando interrupted your dreaming haze by sliding the bags in. you turned to face him in your unruly, exhausted glory, and he stared at you. a hand of his found the back of his neck.

“so…dinner tonight at seven, pool day tomorrow, um…” he looked around, acting as if he could suddenly have the words appear into his head. “oh and, if you need anything, my room’s just next door.”

he said it with haste, as if he were shy about the fact, and was already stepping out the door.

“wait,” you said, stepping forward. lando hung back, gripping onto the door frame, swinging his head back into the room. “thank you.”

the words seemed to hit him harder than you thought that it would. he blushed a light red, dimming his tanned face, and cleared his throat before nodding. “of course.” he said with out hesitance, making it clear that he would do this for anyone. “‘m glad you’re here.”

and then he was gone.

you stared at the shut door in stunned silence. did you really hear him correctly?

you didn’t let your thoughts linger too long, but you couldn’t help but let it. the curly-haired brunette stayed in your mind whilst you settled in and unpacked. all ounce of his shy, gaunt nature.

by the evening you were more than settled and relaxed. you’d taken a small nap to rejuvenate your energy, and just in the nick of time for dinner. you got ready amply, sliding a comfortable dress over the surface of your body. the straps were thin and fell loose upon your collarbones. you’d pair an elegant pair of low rise heels on your feet, pointy-toed, that matched the color of your dress.

you stared at your reflection in the mirror, the dim yellow lighting illuminating the corners of your face that you so frequently forgot to appreciate. it was in the hours of the night that you could appreciate yourself, unopposed to the gawking looks of strangers.

there was a soft knock on your door at 6:57. you turned, dress swaying from your movements, and cracked it open.

lando stood there on the other side. him and his dark shirt and khaki pants. he wore a pair of leather black loafers that matched his shirt. he smelled good, too, a masculine tint of sauvage.

no words were spoken between the two of you. you simply stared at one another, lost in each other’s features. you resisted the urge to trace the moles on his face with a finger, whilst he fought himself to not reach out and run his hands along the fabric of your dress.

his eyes softened when you met his, cheeks filled with a simple kind of joy. the two of you were done ogling at one another, still foreign in each other’s presence.

“ready?” he asked. you nodded, grabbing a matching handbag from the countertop and slung it over your arm. you shut the door to your room behind you and walked a few paces behind lando. you weren’t close with him like that to walk side by side.

or so you thought.

he dragged his feet to slow his pace, coming parallel to your side. he held his breath for a moment, turning to look at the exposed skin from your dress. you caught his wandering eyes and looked up at him, wandering beneath his emerald depths.

“what?” you asked tenderly, voice hitching in your throat.

“nothing.” he turned his head to face back forward. “just haven’t seen you in a while, that’s all.”

that was an understatement. you haven’t seen lando in almost three years. max had done a stellar job of wanting to keep you separated from his friends, though you weren’t upset about it. you had your own life, and that was perfectly enough for you.

but you were a girl with a heart full of wanderlust, and often dreamed of what you could’ve had. there was a marksmith of delusion prodding the hidden parts of your brain, working tirelessly to pick apart the small interactions you’ve had with lando over the years.

when you turned 18, he brought you to an exclusive club and showered you with gifts, alcohol, and even more. it was a night you wouldn’t forget, feeling lucky enough to manage a dance with him on the dance floor. his hands hovered above your body, the warmth seeping through your skin, rattling your bones. he even got so close to your face that you could feel his breath. smell the alcohol that reeked from him.

you thought you were going to kiss.

and so did he.

but your brother separated the two of you, calling lando over for a group shot. you were left there, stranded on the dance floor, with the phantom touch of a man that you knew you could never have. it pained you to admit such a truth to yourself, but it didn’t loiter. you had a life to get back to, not indulge some silly, fanatical dream that kept you up late at night as a teenager. lando norris was the fantasy, never to become a reality.

though, every time in presence, you’d manage to falter. set those delusions free the second he’d act kindly to you; gentle, tender tenacity that you believed would be special to you. max’s little sister. that’s all you were, though, weren’t you?

“you’ve been well, haven’t you?” you asked him with a hum, holding your bag with both hands in front of you. the leather piece bucked against your abdomen. lando watched, peering to see if he could hold it for you.

“‘course. living my dream, aren’t i?” you’d made it to the end of the hallway. the top of the staircase.

“it’s not a dream.” you said with a softer intonation. he looked back towards you with a raised brow. “it’s reality now, i’d reckon.”

he smiled.

the two of you made it down the steps. you lingered in the grand foyer, beneath the candlelit chandelier. it was still light outside, but the sun was beginning to set. it had created a pink and blue hue over the water’s edge.

but you weren’t looking at the water’s edge.

you were looking at lando. your brother’s best friend. he had his hands in his pockets, facing the open living room, rocking back and forth on his heels. you cut your way to his line of sight staring upward at him. he looked down at you, wondering what you were searching for.

you had considered not doing what you were about to do. you really did!

but your hand was already outstretched, the tips of your fingers grazing over the grown facial hair on his chin. he didn’t jolt from the action and merely stared into your eyes, pupils blown wide from the warmth of your touch.

“i like it,” you commented before taking your hand away, finding yourself into much deep trouble if max had seen the two of you.

“yeah?” lando asked, suddenly much closer to you.

“makes you look older and manly.” you rolled your eyes.

“what? i wasn’t manly before?”

your hand rolled over your mouth to withhold a laugh. “i’ve seen you weep at the sight of fish.”

lando’s face lit up and his tongue prodded the inside of his cheek. “doesn’t make me any less of a man.” he crossed his arms.

“really?”

“just enthusiastic. don’t see a problem with having a bit of character.” you didn’t argue with him further when you saw your brother and other group friends join one another in the living room. they made their way closer to the two of you.

you took a step back from lando. he couldn’t take his eyes off the action, his face falling instinctively. it’s nothing. his expressions mean nothing. they’re not for you.

“c’mon, i’m starvin’.” max called, slapping lando on the back. sure enough, you were walking out the door behind your brother, everyone trailing in an orderly manner.

you heard lando call your name from in front of max. you hummed in response. “you’ll ride with me, yeah?” you blushed. how could you not? max turned his head over his shoulder, his voice saying nothing, but his eyes telling all. he knows how you felt about lando when you were younger.

he knows, he knows, he knows. but surely, surely you’ve gotten over that little crush of yours. and lando, too, hadn’t harbored any feelings towards you either? surely, surely he couldn’t. you were his little sister. and max knew how lando treated girls as of late.

it left a sour taste in his mouth, but he said nothing when you nodded, brushing past him.

lando opened the door for you. his mclaren was a two seater, comfortable, and roared to life when lando turned over the engine. you couldn’t help but laugh feeling the seat vibrate beneath your thighs. it was a feeling of exhilaration that you hadn’t felt in a long time, but a feeling that came perpetually with lando’s presence. being with him made you feel alive, more alive than the years you’d walked this earth.

your excitement had done things to him as well. his eyes were glued to how you reacted, enthralled by your visceral enthusiasm to being in such a tangible sports car. your fingertips grazed across the leather interior of the door handle.

“gonna jump out on me?”

you shifted in the leather seat, crossing your legs over one another. there was a heat building inside of you, deep in your core.

“not if you don’t give me a reason to.”

he chuckled at that. “i’ll try.”

you smiled to yourself, looking down at your fiddling hands. lando stepped on the gas and pulled out of the villa’s extraneously long driveway, leading the pack of friends behind him.

“you look fit.” came his voice, nervous, beneath his breath. your eyes caught his side profile, all rough edges of it. “beautiful, but your brother’d have me by the balls if he heard me say that.”

your breaths were heavy in your chest. “then don’t let him.”

lando’s head whipped to meet your eyes, hand white-knuckling the steering wheel. you weren’t even sure what you were implying with your words, but he hoped that he wasn’t misinterpreting them. god forbid he didn’t understand. you didn’t brush him off like you did as a child, didn’t stumble away bashfully. now, in your grown state, you faced him head on. you challenged him, just as he suspected you would.

“between us, then?”

you nodded, tongue coming to wet your bottom lip. you made a motion of a lock and key against them, throwing the key out the window. he watched, but was drawn back to the road. that was one of the fastest car rides you’ve ever been in with that roaring engine, feeling like you had stepped into the biggest unknown of your very existence.

the restaurant that lando had made reservations for was absolutely beautiful. you couldn’t count the amount of times you’ve been awed by the sites you’ve seen, but you couldn’t help yourself. you were simply one of the luckiest girls with even richer friends.

lando opened the car door for you, sprinting to the other side. you found yourself laughing at the action, finding his urgency cute.

you stepped out of the car and you immediately found your brother, his stance idle before he marched over to you.

“he say anything to you?”

you flushed. between us, then?

“no. what would he say?”

max didn’t elaborate and simply settled for a huff from his nose. lando had been handing off his car to the valet man when he met up with the two of you. your other friends were in tow, eight of you in total, and made it inside the restaurant with ease.

you didn’t even think about what the seating arrangement would be. not until lando pulled out a chair for you, beside him, and you had no other choice but to settle in. not like you were complaining though.

but max was going to. you could see the look on his face when he sat opposite to you, flashing you a pair of warning eyes. but you didn’t know what warranted them– you didn’t even say anything to lando, more or less.

you furrowed your brows at him, feeling far too old for these insolent glances, and picked up the menu. lando sat next to you, mirroring your actions. you placed the napkin on your lap, a polite etiquette you’ve always precluded dinners with.

“ah– look,” you leaned into lando’s space, the heat from his body, the cologne from his shirt, sifting through your nose. it was tempting. “for you.”

your finger pointed to the blackened cod that they had on the menu. lando met you half way, looming over your shoulder at what you were pointing at. as soon as he read it, he scoffed. “fuck off.” you couldn’t help but giggle, attempting to stifle the sound the best you could.

“don’t do that,” lando’s voice came firm, but soft against your ears. he was talking just loud enough for the two of you to be able to hear. you glanced quickly at max, who was lost in conversation with his buddies.

“what?”

“hide your laugh.” you guessed you didn’t realize how often you muffled yourself. your hand lowered to your lap. “you used to do it when you were a teenager, too.” he pointed. you thought for a moment, realizing that he was right. “never understood why. especially since it’s so pretty.”

you froze, staring up at him with weary eyes. he looked confused at your expression. your hand came to slap his bicep. “stop it.” but you were teasing him. he saw right through your tone.

“don’t let him, ‘s what you said, right?”

you swallowed. nodded your head.

his mouth dipped to your ear. his breath hot, just like your cheeks. “he won’t hear a thing then, will he?” lando’s nose brushed against your scalp, and you thought for a moment, dreamed, that he would plant a kiss upon your head. but his lips simply hovered, breaths warming your strands of hair.

but you turned your head to meet his eyes, shaking his contact off. he noticed. tensed. “but he can see, you imbecile.”

that had lando laughing. your face broke with a smile, unable to resist his intoxicating gestures. he simply shrugged, letting you win this one, and his arm came to sling over the back of your chair. his fingertips grazed the strands of your dress, dipping down to your bare shoulders. your posture straightened against the chair, legs crossing over one another beneath the table. he watched you shift, his teeth catching his bottom lip to retain his smile.

the waiter came to take your orders. you ordered your preferred choice and drink, lando following suit. when the table received their drinks, you lifted your glasses for a collective ‘cheers’.

when the main course was finished, you were handed the dessert menus. short a couple, you had to share with the man next to you. you nudged lando’s shoulder with your own and like a dog to a whistle, he was over your shoulder once more, his stubble barely pinching your skin. the thought burst through your head: what would it feel like on your neck? on your thighs, your cunt? you blushed again for what felt like an infinitesimal number, but turned your attention back to the menu.

you pointed at the option that you thought was best. lando hummed, his eyes tracing over the features of your face. you glanced at him. “what?” you asked.

he simply huffed a short laugh and nodded his head at your choice.

it arrived sooner than later and the two of you split the sweet dessert. your brother was still lost in his own conversations, leaving you to your ministrations with lando. whatever they may be, you’d want them all.

when you had your fill and so did he, you couldn’t help but look at him. he turned, and you laughed quietly between the two of you. he raised a brow.

“you’ve got–” you pointed to his lip, but you figured your words were fruitless. you licked at your thumb and raised it to his mouth, cleaning him. his eyes darkened, becoming hooded with the shadows of lust. you even dared to bring your thumb back to your mouth, popping the remnants across your lips with a ‘pop’. lando never thought his dick could be so hard.

“there,” you breathed. “all clean.”

there was a brief silence. one second. two. “you’ve always been trouble, haven’t you?”

your own eyes were hooded. “maybe.” you teased, cleaning your fingers with the napkin. “guess you have to find out?”

lando’s hand gripped tighter on the back of your chair.

“guess so.”

the drive back was tense. tense with your excitement. on the way out, lando and you lingered at the back of the pack. his hand was on your lower back, warm and electric, reminding you that you had stepped into the deep end with him.

you still couldn’t believe what had happened.

lando was speeding down the freeway, weaving his way in and out of cars, a dangerous task that you only felt comfortable with him performing. you’d lose your mind if anyone else was the driver, but he was the professional here, wasn’t he?

you were even so bold to roll the window down and stick your hand out, feeling the harsh slipstreams beneath your nailbeds. you relaxed in the seat, head lolling against the cushion, hair flying into the wind. lando turned his head to look at you, his elbow leaning on the interior beneath the windowsill, and almost swerved into oncoming traffic. you were a picturesque beauty, lounging freely in his passenger seat, legs crossed, free.

you were at peace for the time being, and it was the only way he’d wish to see you. but he could think of other things.

he pulled into the house with ease. it was well lit amongst the long, windy driveway, and he made sure to let you out first. you two were the last to arrive at the house this time, taking your sweet time. you were in no rush to race back to your room, and neither was he.

it was well past 10pm. when you reached the foyer, max was waiting for you.

“bright and early tomorrow?” he asked.

“bright and early.” you confirmed. he pulled you in for a swift hug, rustling the top of your head with that familial brother love that you adored him for.

he patted lando on the back briefly, before narrowing his eyes at him. you didn’t understand what was happening between the two of them, bro code, but lando seemed to understand well enough. max and his buddies traipsed up the steps, and you felt at ease when you heard their doors shut.

it was just you and lando, now, idling in the foyer.

you said nothing but began to walk, trailing forward through the grandeur villa. you were ample with your pace and heard him moving behind you. with a push of your hand, you opened the door to the grand balcony, leaving it ajar for lando to sneak out from.

he did.

there was a patio set there, waiting, and you let your handbag drop onto the coffee table. you sauntered over to the cobblestone walls, the balustrade meeting post to post for about thirty feet. you leaned against the stone. it was cold against your bare back.

lando seated himself in one of the chairs, his legs spreading wide. he watched you lean forward, then spin to face him. your back was illuminated by the halo of the moonlight, drenching you in a pale visage of beauty.

“you wanna know something?” you asked. lando perked up, humming with curiosity. he was too busy admiring your figure, having to pull himself back from such tumultuous thoughts. “i had a crush on you when i was a kid.”

that stifled a laugh from the british driver. “you did not.”

you shook your head. “sure did.” you didn’t know why you were telling him this all of a sudden, but it was weighing heavy on your mind. “max was pissed. knew i only came around when he told me you’d be there.”

the pieces began melding together in lando’s mind. he had been such an idiot boy that he couldn’t see what a prized beauty you were. there was a trace of second hand guilt. a pattern of ‘what-ifs’ trifling through his mind.

“‘was just a stupid girl. tried so hard for you to notice me.” your hands covered your face for a brief moment.

“you always wore skirts,” he recalled, looking at his hands in his lap. he looked up at you, smirk building. “that why?”

you were shameless when you nodded your head.

“so embarrassing, i know–”

“what about now?” he cut you off, clearly wanting to ask this question the moment it left your lips.

“what do you mean?” your mouth went dry, your hands clasping at the balustrade as if you were going to faint. your heart pounded in your chest.

“what do you feel for me now?”

you couldn’t meet his eye. you looked anywhere else but him, in fact, and opted to over your shoulder to admire the view of the ocean beneath the starlight. the ocean wouldn’t judge you. it would wash away your problems, in fact, and not stare you down.

there was a deep intake of breath that had your head settling from its dizzy state. you looked back to lando and he sat there, cocky, upright. but there was a genteel nature about him that didn’t have you as afraid as you thought you’d be.

he raised his arm, outstretching his hand for you.

you swallowed, pushing yourself off from the balustrade. you sauntered towards him, earnest in your steps, before letting your palm rest on his.

he pulled you close, fingers wrapping against your wrist. he was warm to the touch and he could feel your erratic heartbeat in your veins.

lando’s legs spread for you to settle between. you stood above him, looking down at his brunette curls, his stubble, his cheekbones. his own hands were experimental against the planes of your body, touching sweetly against your hips.

“you didn’t answer me.” he repeated.

you crossed your arms over your chest.

“some dreams just remain dreams.”

he waited a beat. you felt his chest rise and fall.

“do you want to dream forever?”

no. no. you didn’t. you wanted your fantasies to become reality. being with him. being loved by him has always been what you wanted.

you lowered yourself on his lap, straddling his waist. you felt his cock thrum beneath the guard of his pants. did he want you the same?

his forehead collided with yours. his nose brushing against your bridge. you shook your head, closing your eyes.

“wake me up,” you mewled quietly, voice deep within your throat. it was a desperate plea, one that you thought he may not understand until he caught the glint in your eye. the wanting. the years of pining from a distance. how he was so wrapped up in his boyhood that he couldn’t appreciate a woman at his side. “please.”

he didn’t wait any longer to meet your lips with his own.

you were cautious with your touches. your hands were on his chest, gripping at the fabric of his shirt. but your kiss was deep by his own volition, gripping your chin with his forefinger and thumb, earning a groveling sound in your throat.

his other hand was stroking your back, pushing you against him until your breasts were firmly against his chest. you gasped at the firm contact, him using it as an excuse to slip his tongue into your mouth. he explored every corner with an expertise you didn’t know was possible. no place went untouched by his saliva, marking a cavern of his own, and perhaps awakening a fantasy that had been dormant for years.

he lied when he said he didn’t notice you.

he lied.

lando would always await your appearance when he went over to max’s house. he’d hear you skip down the steps in whatever mary-jane heel you wore for that day. max would groan when your head popped through the archway, waving at his friends, but your lashes fluttered when you settled on lando.

‘course he fucking noticed.

he thought of you a sweet girl, caring for her brother, with an exquisite taste in fashion. he’d remember the skirts you wore– black ones, pleated ones, plaid ones– they were all committed to the vaults of his memory. he thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world.

and he still did. while you were perched atop of his lap, huffing in nervous breaths, your hands anxiously skirting across the plane of his dress shirt. you shook atop of him as your lips moved coincided with one another. two bodies, melding together beneath the moonlight.

your tongue swirled against his own, hips bucking against the bulge in his pants. your cunt tightened aimlessly, drenching his pants below. he could feel the patten of fabric become lathered in your slick, and it brought him back to earth.

“we can’t.” he breathed against your lips. his chest was beating up and down, unable to calm himself. though he attempted rejecting you, his hand tightened around the fabric of your dress.

your nose brushed against his as you chuckled. “a bit late, isn’t it?” your teeth bit at your swollen, bottom lip. you could see his eyes flash downward at your action, his own tongue wetting his own.

“your brother,” he began to shake his head, still clutching around the fabric of your dress.

“he doesn’t…” you began to say, kissing the sides of his stubble. you were even so bold to take his free hand, guide it to your inner thighs, and let his fingertips caress the wet fabric covering your cunt. it was swollen, desperate for his touch. you’d been desperate for his touch. desperate for as long as you could remember. “have to know.”

lando’s fingers curled upward to apply pressure right on your clit. he didn’t even have to search for it, and you shifted your hips, bucking them across his palm. “fuck, baby…” he groaned into your cheek, followed by a crass chuckle. “you always get this wet?”

your head buried itself into the junction between his neck and shoulder, whining with embarrassment. “jus’ for you…” the words came quietly, but they rang loud in lando’s ears. he could feel the vibrations from your throat, your aching cunt. you were laid atop of him, dripping down your thighs.

“yeah?” he breathed, finding his heart beating rapidly beneath the weight of your body. his fingers began a pattern of motions across your clothed clit—back and forth— and you mewled into his shirt. there was a patch of drool beneath your lips. “look at you, then, made a mess all over me…”

your lips sucked on the skin of his neck, biting at his chest. attempting to shift closer to him, if it was possible, had your cunt aligned over his clothed cock.

“‘n i’ve barely touched you.”

lando wasn’t even sure he could bring himself to. this was his best friend’s little sister. the amount of lines he’s crossed. the friendship he’s had for years suddenly feeling vulnerable, out the door. but he can’t say he hasn’t thought about a moment like this. fantasized about it once or twice.

“touch me,” you pleaded, tilting your head to look at him. your eyes were wide, glossy with your pleasure, whilst his darkened at your contact. “more, i need…” your hips grinded against his palm. “more.”

“fuck,” he cursed beneath his breath. fuck his self control. fuck whatever this was going to do to his friendship. you are real, pining for him in his lap, begging you for his touch. anything from him, really, you would take. this moment felt like it was going to flutter away any moment, and you’d be waking up from a sick, yearning dream.

the hand upon your back steadied you against his body, whilst the fingers of his other moved the fabric of your panties aside. here, with his sensitive fingers, he could feel the heat from your cunt. it washed over him like a wave, retracting, tightening when he flexed his middle finger. you were utterly drenched for him, the cool breeze of the night raising goosebumps along your skin.

you shivered above him, watching how his hand worked beneath your dress. his hand against your back curled around the base of your neck, angling your eyes back up to his own. “eyes on me.” you listened, melted at his soft, demanding tone, and nodded your head. you shimmied frantically across the plane of his hand, but he tsked. “be patient.”

you seemed to understand well enough. he would give you what you wanted, in time. you would be patient, holding back the whimpers deep within your throat. you were just about to implode on yourself when he finally inserted his middle finger into your folds, taunting you dangerously. you gasped, unable to keep yourself still as your back arched. your head fell back into his hand, lando’s thumb swirling around your bare neck.

the straps from your dress fell loose with the motion and you could feel the breeze harden your already taut nipples. his eyes clinged downward at the sight before him, head bending forward to kiss your exposed chest. one of your hands came to clench around his wrist, the other to his neck, holding him fiercely to your body.

your fingers were thrusted deep into the base of his neck, the fade of his hair. you tugged when his finger curled deliciously inside of you, his thumb– acting so expertly– applied gentile pressure to your clit, toiling with your impetuous lust. you felt exposed to him, putty in his hands, weightless against his body.

the british driver’s lips were relentless on your skin. your chest was claimed by his tongue, swirling around the top of your breasts, edging you further to a spectacular orgasm. he sucked tight against your skin, but your head raised to meet your lips to his ears.

“no marks,” you requested, but you heard him growl against your chest. his hands flexed– his wrist clutched with your palm, his hand on the back of your neck– the contact with your neck had you breathless, clenching around his singular finger, and he took blatant notice.

“a secret, yeah?” he confirmed, holding back his groveling tone. the words were bitter when they hit your ears. there was a layered amount of surplus emotions that guarded his heart, held him at arm's length, and he knew it would tear him apart. but now, he focused on you atop of him, and getting you to come.

“mhmm…” you had to clamp your mouth shut from bursting with a wanton moan. it was too much– the way that he swirled his thumb, how his finger was just the perfect length to bottom out inside of you. your hips moved relentlessly, despite his grip around your neck, and you pushed down on his wrist when it started to become too much for you.

but lando had other plans. he shook his head, let out a tsk between his lips, and let his ring finger slip into you with ease. you let out another moan, deeper than the rest, but he responded with a tug on your hair.

with his lips still against your breasts, his motions froze. “quiet.” you hummed a disapproving sound. “want me to stop?”

you shook your head. “no– no!”

you could feel his teeth against your breasts, a cocky smile no doubt with how flustered you became at the thought of him stopping.

“gotta be quiet, love–” and then his lips were back on you, sucking amply at your skin. his head lowered until he captured a nipple between his teeth, letting the ridges toy with your sensitive buds. your head lowered to the top of his as you breathed him in– his shampoo, his cologne– and it didn’t help with containing yourself.

his pace against your cunt quickened. dual fingers sliding in and out of you with ease, thumb riding aggressively on your clit. you could feel the coil inside of you wringing with heat.

lando’s lips found your other nipple, treating it with the same voraciousness that the other received. it was beginning to become too much for you. no man had ever had you this way– putty, liquid, melting– beneath his touch. you feared that you’d never be able to have an orgasm again.

you became antsy in his hands. your grip on his wrist was shaking, your thighs desperately clenching around his waist. he took it as a sign that you were close, and the words fell easily from his lips.

“gonna cum for me?” his chin rested on your chest, angling to look up at your sweating, flushed expression. your eyes fluttered shut as you nodded. his grip around your throat tightened against the columns. you’d never trusted a man so much to not hurt you.

“come on, sweet girl, ‘ve got you.” he promised to you, “bet you’re so pretty when you cum.”

you felt the skin of your lip break into a light gash beneath the weight of your teeth. you’d been so focused on keeping quiet, that you went ahead at your own expense. lando saw the way your eyes opened, and lurched to meet your lips with his own.

the iron upon his tongue didn’t frighten him. perhaps it turned him on in some manner. the lengths that you were willing to go to keep your sweet lips tightened. but as his own tongue swirled around the stinging cut of your lip, you moaned into him. he absorbed the sound, locking it into the expanse of his memories. you had such a sweet voice. he’d never hear something like it again.

“come on, baby,” he urged you once more, speaking into your mouth. his breath was hot, spinning a knot of thread with your own. you felt him laugh at your oncoming orgasm, taking joy from eliciting such pleasure from you. “let me see how pretty you are.”

it didn’t take much longer for your orgasm to reach you. you went taut, shaking in his hands, eyes rolling into your head. you swore you saw stars, and that was just from his fingers alone. it had you wondering what his cock felt like.

your head fell limp against his shoulder, breathing heavily, clutching the fabric of his shirt. you didn’t want to let him go. his fingers laid idle inside of your tightened walls, not wanting to release the feeling either. not with his hand drenched, his pants soaked, and his forehead dripping with his own sweat. his cock had been painfully hard, a pool of his precum seeping through his pants, combining with your own. it was a beautiful, disastrous mess that he’d initiated between you two, but he felt no regret.

you sniffled against his shoulder, breezing with the cold air, and let your arms wrap around his neck. you hid your face against his body, attempting to bury your embarrassment within him. you had just come on the balcony atop lando’s lap. what fucking world were you living in? you’ve had feelings for him for what felt like a century, and now a dream that you didn’t even know was possible of coming true, came at the palm of his hand.

lando couldn’t believe it either. you were tucked against his body like a hand to a glove, a perfect fit, breathing heavily, shaking, against his palms. your cunt roared with a beating heat, swimming with the orgasm he had given you. proud wasn’t a word that could surmount to this feeling.

and he said nothing when he fixed the straps of your dress, gauging a more presentable you. he tucked your hair behind your ears, fingertips loitering on the expanse of your cheek. you smiled into him, coming to raise your head to meet his eyes.

his eyes fell to your blistering lip. the swollen buds that he sucked the blood out of. his forehead met yours, and neither of you said anything; just a soft breath and heartbeat between the two of you.

within seconds he took his hand from your cunt, washed his fingers against his tongue, and let it fall to your bare back. you were stunned at the motion, but drool pooled in your mouth. you gawked, openly, just how hot the action was alone.

lando stood with you in his arms. one hand on the back of your neck, the other cupping your thigh. your legs, whilst trembling, tightened around his waist for support as he took you through the quiet villa. the only lights were the candles that were still burning, but you didn’t see them, your head hiding in the crevice of his neck. he hummed quietly, a rhythm that had your eyes beginning to lull with sleep.

you heard him open a door quietly and shuffle around the mess on the floor. your room, no doubt. you’d left a pile of clothes as a welcome for yourself when you were picking out your attire for the evening. it didn’t help him, either, by being surrounded by your scent. your perfume, you, it swirled around him, taunting him. dared him to fuck his best friend’s little sister.

lando bent down to lay you into your bed. you fell against your will, hands still upright for him to fall in. but he just couldn’t let himself.

he did, however, let his fingers trail across your bare thighs, your knees, your calves, ankles, until he was met with your heels. his hand lingered on the back of your ankle, angling one of your feet upright to slip a shoe off. his fingers moved to the other, placing the expensive pair on the ground. you stretched your hands above your head, falling deep within the pillowy, feathery embrace.

you stared up at him. your hair messy, dress disheveled, eyes heavy with exhaustion. and he looked down at you, moving forward to let his fingers trail up your sternum, the perks of your breasts. the moment was so quiet. only your breaths and his own could be heard– and maybe the pounding of your heart.

he looked beautiful looming above you, hovering with a protective, apologetic look. apologetic? what did he have to apologize for? except for a mind-blowing orgasm, that is.

his hand froze against the place of your heart. palm flattening, he could feel just how fast your heart was racing. you grabbed his wrist, thumb sliding up and down against his veins. he swallowed.

“don’t know if we should do this again.” he spoke quietly.

your heart broke. you sat up straight in your bed, confusion written all across your features. you thought that this was something between the two of you. that he wanted you. and now what was happening? did you do something wrong?

“why?” you asked, feeling tears well in your eyes. you couldn’t help it. the girl inside of you had come to the forefront, her dreams of being with lando being squashed beneath the weight of his words.

he sighed deep, unable to meet your eyes. he was about to say something before you interrupted him.

“you don’t want me?”

his head snapped in your direction, almost breaking clean off his spine with just how fast he went. he shook his head, hand coming to cup your cheek, but you shook his affections away. your hand dropped from his wrist, wanting to feel nothing of his heart.

he spoke your name. twice. three times. you looked back toward him, tears hot in your eyes. “hey.” you focused on his voice. “you know that’s not true.”

your brows furrowed. “do i?”

his expression dropped.

he fell to his knees before the side of the bed. an action no man has ever done for you. you gaped visibly, watching as both his hands came to rest upon your knees. he leaned into you. stubble tickling your thighs.

your name was sweet on his tongue.

“what would your brother say–?”

“fuck what he thinks.” you leaned down.

lando’s head dropped between your thighs, taking a deep inhale of your skin. you shivered, letting your hand rest on the back of his neck.

“we need t’give it time.” he said upon raising his head. he looked at you with a glimmer in his eyes. the moonlight shimmered through your windows, casting a vague gracefulness of illumination across his tanned skin.

“how much?”

lando wasn’t sure. his silence was an answer enough. you sighed, letting your body fall against the bed once more. he lifted himself to sit beside you, placing both hands at your hips to cage you in.

“hey,” he said to gauge your attention back to him. “we’ll figure it out, won’t we?”

you wanted to believe him. but you weren’t sure that you could. lando leaned down to kiss your sternum against the fabric of your dress.

“you still want me?” you asked, voice cracking with your emotions.

“i’ve wanted you,” he said against your stomach, “since the day you came down in that white skirt.”

you gasped, head tilting to look at him. that was one of the first times you met him– third, maybe– you remembered which one he was talking about. it was a skirt with little white bows, embellished with threads of ribbon and lace.

“the one with the bows?”

“that fuckin’ skirt…” he scoffed with a laugh. you were still floored, but managed to smile. you couldn’t believe his confession, finding it unbelievable. unbelievable that maybe, maybe you had a chance with him. the girl inside of you was squealing, but the woman didn’t quiver beneath him.

there was a momentary silence between the two of you. but you shifted, moving to stand. lando watched you from his perch on your bed, hair ruffled and eyes red from his own wrought of emotions. you didn’t expect this from him. this sensibility.

you began to strip with your back turned to him. he watched. silently.

you stripped of your panties and threw them over your shoulder. lando caught them, still gawking at you. “keep them.” you spoke. “you ruined them.”

that had him laughing. but he kept them, staring down at the lace material. you threw on a large shirt from your suitcase that reached your mid thigh. you finally spun around to meet his eye, but he didn’t dare move.

“what?” you asked, his staring becoming more intense.

he swallowed. shook his head.

“you better go.” you spoke for him as you approached your bed, narrowly dodging him when you threw yourself down. his eyes raked over you, speechless. “lando.” you reaffirmed, bringing him out of his haze. he let out a sigh and stood, hand coming to brace the back of his neck.

he lingered before opening your door, glancing at the dress on the ground. and then he was gone, shutting your door behind him, before falling to his own bed. you were lucky to find sleep that night, and it came easy with your exhaustion. but anxiety thrummed through your mind, bustling with a pint of rejection. it was so sweet from his tongue, but it hurt all the same.

lando laid in his bed before he showered. changed. laid in his bed with the thought of you. how did this happen? how could he forfeit a lifelong friendship? it was simple, really. you were the most beautiful woman he’s ever met, and he couldn’t ever let you go. he’s always watched you from a distance. liking your posts, viewing your instagram stories. he was obsessed with you in more ways than one, but that was a secret for him and him alone.

yet, he couldn’t get max out of his mind. how he would react to him? to you? fuck, the thoughts were brewing a storm inside of his head. the damage had already been done, his heart already thrumming with the essence of you in its wake. you spread through the blood in his veins, latching onto his vitality like a parasite. though he welcomed the thought, the wonder of you overtaking his life.

that was a thought that he could fall asleep to. and he did, snoring with a good guzzle that had you tossing and turning.

the morning came and went. you were up early, as you promised max, but took time planning your wardrobe. you wore a bathing suit beneath your choice of clothing, but what was essential was the short, white, skirt that rode mid-rise on your waist.

the shirt you wore was thin, sheer, a light beige. it had straps that came down to tie a bow between your breasts, and cropped enough to leave heaven to the imagination. for one man in particular, that was your goal.

‘i don’t know if we should do this again.’

fuck that.

you skipped down the steps and were met with max awake bright and early. he had been cooking breakfast, a favorite of yours, and was just about finishing up before he glanced towards you.

“morning!” came his preppy voice. he was wearing a thin white shirt and swim trunks, ready to take on the day to swim.

“good morning.” you sat down at the lush kitchen island, max sliding a plate of food in front of you. you dug in immediately.

“woah,” max commented, sitting down beside you with a cup of tea. “relax. thought we were going swimming?”

you coughed. “we are.” you continued to finish your food with haste. “just hungry.”

you heard more steps come down the stairs. but you didn’t turn your head until max did, his eyes brightening as his close friend was approaching.

“mate,” max said, eyeing up lando. “you look like shit. did ‘ya sleep last night?”

lando hummed with his tired voice, already prepared to go swimming as well. he wore a black shirt with papaya swim trunks. you ogled at him before he looked at you, turning away quickly once he skirted his eyes towards your direction.

“slept great.”

you scoffed.

max and lando turned towards you. the fork in your hands dropped and your eyes widened. a blush creeped onto your cheeks.

“you snore,” you commented, still refusing to look at him. “you know that?”

max turned towards lando. “your rooms are next to each other?” the words were poignant, aimed as a remark to the british driver. he simply shrugged his shoulders in response, not finding any reason to engage.

you stood with your plate in hand, making headway for the sink. from behind, you could feel a pair of eyes heating the plane of your back. you weren’t stupid. and neither was he, knowing exactly what you had done this morning.

the skirt you wore was a reminiscence of his confession the previous night. it brought back the childlike memories of grade school. a time when life was simpler, and you were just a girl, and he was just a boy. but he knew you weren’t that girl anymore. a woman grown, you were elegant. he didn’t understand how you were related to max, a scruffy rascal, but he was happier for that.

when you turned on the water for the sink, lando approached you. max had been tending to his phone, scrolling through social media, so he hadn’t been paying attention. lando’s shoulder brushed against your own when you were scrubbing, desperate to say something.

“you–”

“max,” you interrupted lando, turning off the water and turning towards your brother. lando took a side step away from you, giving you space when max looked up from his phone. you received a side eye from the british driver, his lip curling with pettiness. he saw what you were doing now. was this your form of punishment?

max responded with a ‘hm?’ “you want me to cook tonight?” you offered, and max glanced at lando, who never stopped looking at you. you saw max’s expression tense.

“why not. could save us some money, won’t it?” he said, waiting for lando to add on. “right, lando?”

lando spun around, releasing his tight grip on the counter. he took a sharp breath in, nodding his head in agreement. you watched as a blush creeped onto his face. you bit on the inside of your cheek, but weren’t expecting lando to retaliate.

he spoke your name, which had your head lifting. “what happened to your lip?”

you froze. eyes widening. your own lip twitched with a remedy of a snarl, and he bit back, his nose curling with distaste.

max approached you two, observing your scabbed lip from the night before. “shit. he’s right. what happened?”

you reached back to clench the marble counter beneath your fingers. “uh–” lando held back his devious smile. “bit it in my sleep, ‘spose.”

max simply shrugged his shoulders, and headed for the backyard where the pool was. when the door shut, you let out a sigh. lando stepped in front of you, caging you in with his arms. his head dipped to your shoulder, his curls brushing against your cheek.

“get off me,” you commented with grit, biting your words. lando shook his head, not moving.

“don’t play this with me,” he said, lifting his head with a deep inhale. you raised a brow at him, having absolutely no idea what he meant.

“said we weren’t going to do this again, didn’t you?” you made him sit with his words. make him roll in the fucking mud. “we’re not. and if we were–” you shoved his chest with both your hands, which had him lurching backward. he didn’t go far. “i’d fucking win.”

he invaded your space again, leaning his lips towards yours. you felt his breath again, his scent creeping into your nose. it was like he never left.

“y’sure ‘bout that?” he said with a light tone, teasing you with the vibrato of his words. you swallowed a lump in your throat.

but you stood your ground. “positive.”

lando lingered for a second longer, leaning closer to your lips, and you thought he was going to kiss you out in the open kitchen. “whatever you say.” were the only words he said before he leapt away from you suddenly, leaving your exposed body cold.

he followed you out to the pool, never leaving enough space between you two. but you had other plans–sticking by max’s side would surely drive him insane.

so you sat beside your brother all day. in the pool chair next to him. tanning, reading a book, scrolling on your phone– it didn’t matter. it wasn’t long before the rest of your brother’s friends joined everyone by the pool.

most of them were in the pool by the afternoon. you had made your way to the kitchen, shedding of your skirt and top. left in your swimwear, you wanted a snack.

in the bowls of fruit you found, you pulled some mango, strawberries, and bananas. you cut them with a knife from the drawer, and put them in a bowl. there was more than enough fruit for everyone, but you took some of your favorites in the meantime.

the sun was hot that day, and you had forgotten your sunglasses. sunscreen on your head would cause greasy hair, and you didn’t want that. so you searched briefly in the kitchen for any sort of hat that someone left, and you found one.

it was a papaya hat. with mclaren’s logo, and a number 4 on it. you smirked, bringing the hat atop your head.

it fit nicely and you grabbed the bowl of fruit. you made your way back outside to the patio and your brother noticed you immediately. he called your name, and you sauntered over.

lando and his mates had been in the pool playing with a frisbee, but as soon as max had said your name, he was looking over his shoulder. he went speechless.

with his hat atop your head and your exposed body, he could help but drool at the sight of you. a droplet trailed down his chin, but he dunked the lower half of his mouth into the pool before anyone saw.

“for us?” max asked towards the bowl of fruit. you popped a slice of mango into your mouth, biting tenderly into the piece before nodding your head. lando swallowed tightly, practically shaking beneath the surface of the water.

you placed the bowl on the wooden table and stood back as you were met with the onslaught of a crowd of wet dudes. you backed up towards the stairs of the pool, ready to hop in yourself. you thought yourself a genius– having the entire pool to yourself while they ate. but before you stepped in, your elbow was caught in a warm palm.

lando faced you with his bare chest dripping with chlorine, hair ruffled and damp. droplets of water slithered down his cheeks, which you felt tempted to rub away with your thumb, but you retained from stretching out your hands.

he simply stared at you. and you stared at him.

then he flicked the end of the cap with his pointer finger and smirked, raising his brows with a teasing fashion. he had the nerve to glance at your chin, narrowing his eyes. you didn’t have time to react before his own thumb came to wipe away a droplet of mango juice from your chin.

the action was fast, unnoticed by anyone around you. you blushed instantly, freezing in place. lando popped his thumb into his mouth, tongue visibly swirling around the fingertip. he made a humming sound, approving of the taste.

“tastes sweet.” he muttered to you. he raised his eyes, hooded beneath the glare of the sunlight. “not my favorite, though.”

holy shit

you thought you were going to pass out.

with your eyes flared wide, you spun away from him, throwing the hat to the side, and dove straight into the pool.

you needed to cool off. desperately. and your time in the pool did. when you finally climbed out, max was lounging in the pool chair beneath an umbrella. you joined him in your seat, drying yourself off with your towel. lando was watching the entire time, sitting opposite to max.

when you finally laid down with the towel of your bare legs, max scoffed at his phone. clearly, he was trying to get your attention.

“what?” you said, the hat you had thrown off was now back in your lap.

“look,” max handed you his phone, and you immediately rolled your eyes. it was a picture on instagram of your ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend. his new girlfriend that he cheated on you with. he was a fucking asshole, and max knew that from the very beginning.

“ugh,” you groaned, handing his phone back to him. max took it and was about to keep scrolling.

“what?” lando asked, curious now to see what the two of you were grumbling about. max handed him his phone, but he was still confused who he was looking at.

“her ex,” max commented with a rumble. lando’s eyes shot up at you, watching your expression shift. lando was now investigating thoroughly, scrolling through this guys posts. he still had some of you up, and it only angered him. it angered him to an unfair degree, feeling the pinnacle of jealousy, although entirely unwarranted.

“i brought him to a race once,” you pointed out, unable to look at either of them. instead, you settled on the water in the pool. “barcelona, last year.” your arms crossed over your chest.

lando raised a brow. “he was that leach for leclerc, wasn’t he?” you were surprised that he remembered, but nodded your head. it wasn’t a good memory. he had abandoned you the minute you arrived at the race in search of the ferrari driver, and had to manage yourself alone in the crowds. it was miserable, but at least you got to see a good show.

“yeah,” you commented with a huff. “fucking asshole.”

“asshole.” max mirrored you.

“why did it end, then?” lando was pushing the boundaries, but max didn’t seem to notice or mind.

though you did.

you didn’t want to relive the thought. the embarrassment. the entire fucking heartbreak that you pathetically went through.

“because i was stupid.” is all you said before you stood with your towel, making your way inside without another word.

max turned to face lando and smacked him on the shoulder. “the fuck did you ask for?” came his harsh words. lando was stunned, not intending to chase you away.

“shit, sorry i–” lando was quick to rise to his feet, though, not even glancing back at max before he chased after you. “i’ll fix it,” he promised before disappearing inside, and max simply shrugged, wondering just how lando could work his wonders. though he doubted he truly could.

lando called your name from deep inside the villa but you were already half way up the steps. you froze when you heard his voice, stifling back any sounds from your chest. he caught up to you, standing a step beneath you.

“i’m sorry–” he said, “i was just—”

“just what, lando?” you grumbled, truly not wanting to hear his words. “you wanna know just how embarrassed i was? huh? when i found he was fucking one of my best friends?”

lando stood there, shocked, coming to hold out his arms for you to fall into. but you didn’t. “i was such a fucking idiot. it was right in front of me but i didn’t believe it. how smart of me, right?!” your voice raised when lando cornered you at the top of the stairs, your back against the wall.

you couldn’t help but spew emotional nonsense. “oh woe is me, truly, you’d probably end up doing the same–”

lando caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, his other hand leaning against the wall. “what did you say?”

you gulped, not meaning for the words to slip off your tongue. shit. he looked pissed. pissed that you would think so lowly of him.

“i–” you gulped. “i didn’t mean–”

his hand tightened around your chin. “really? that what you think of me?” no, no, no! you didn’t. you didn’t. you shook your head in his hold, your eyes largening with your emotions.

“if you were my girl,” lando whispered to you, not breaking eye contact with you once. “you’d know it.”

but you dared to disagree.

“what am i then?” you challenged, your voice raising in the echoing halls. “what was i yesterday, a whore?”

he bared his teeth at you, displeased with what you called yourself. his hand from your chin latched onto the side columns of your throat and your mouth parted with a delectable pleasure.

“you needed me, yeah?” he was sure to comment. but you didn’t budge.

“get your hands off me.” you bit out.

“you didn’t seem to mind yesterday.”

“clearly you didn’t do a good job for a second run,” the words pinched his ego, though the hand against the wall came to slide around your waist.

“weren’t you begging for me? or did i make that up?” you seethed at his cocky tone.

“think you had too much to drink. i’d never beg.” it was a straight lie that came from your lips. he knew it. you knew it. but you pretended to keep your strength.

“‘touch me, please,’” he mocked in your tone.

“must’ve dreamed it. thinking ‘bout me, lan?” the nickname was new for him on your tongue and he bristled, along with the blood soaring to his cock.

“‘more, need–” you slapped your hand over his mouth.

“fuck you.” you hissed. his mouth curved to a smile before he let his grip on you go.

“we’ll see if you’re lucky tonight.”

you brushed past him with a scoff and he stood there idly, watching your hips sway side to side. he chuckled at your retreat and you flipped him off before entering your room and slamming the door. you were done with these fucking games, his toying words. he had no right to approach you after finding out about your ex.

you immediately turned on the shower in your room and stripped of your bathing attire. it was when you were searching aimlessly through your drawer of panties, you remembered that you were missing a pair.

a smirk grew on your face, and you couldn’t help but feel that you held the power.

a few hours had passed after your interaction with lando, and he couldn’t help but feel anxious. you were missing from the entirety of the activities around the pool, and he even dared knock on your door, but he resisted. though it tore him apart, thinking about your writhing anger.

but you, you had other plans. you’d showered off from the pool, taken care of your skin, and taken a nap before you were to get up and make dinner.

you had come up with the idea for dinner.

fish. as everyone enjoyed.

you smirked to yourself as you made your way down the steps. it was quiet, and you heard no churning of others about the halls. it was nice to revere yourself in the solitude of the late afternoon, hoping that you would have the entirety of the downstairs floor yourself.

you got to work with your scheme and pulled out the fish from the fridge. whatever you were making, you were sure it would be delicious.

and when the meal was just about done, you heard a strangulated sound of ample footsteps down the staircase. you were just about done setting the dinner table when max soared through the kitchen, aiming right for the pans and pots of ingredients you sniffed.

“woo!” he cheered, clearly delighted with your cooking. the other boys at his side were quick to mimic him, agreeing with his statement. your hands clamped over your heart, showing how happy you were that they were thrilled.

“well,” you urged. “go sit! i’ll bring it over.”

they didn’t hesitate. beginning to take spoonfuls of rice, vegetables, and the fried fish you whipped up, they were eager to get a headstart. your thoughts wondered where the british driver was, but your thoughts were answered when you heard the last pair of footsteps through the grand foyer.

you just finished placing the bowls of food in front of the eager boys. they weren’t polite in waiting for everyone to sit down, but you didn’t mind.

it was an afterthought for what his meal would be. of course you knew he despised fish. you listened to everything he said when you were younger, years ago, and never forgot.

you leaned against the kitchen aisle, facing him, and he immediately recoiled at the smell. his nose turned upright, curling upward with his lip, and you saw the sparkle of his canines.

lando approached you, the stove, and took a glance at what the helpings were. he turned his head over his shoulder, giving you a knowing look, which you returned with a small shrug and a smirk.

“witch.” he uttered, hands clamping around the edges of the countertops, unsure what he was going to fish through the cabinets for.

“don’t worry.” you said, lando turning to raise his brows. you slid him a bowl filled with greens, vegetables, and a little bit of rice. “plenty for you, don’t you think?”

you cocked your head toward the empty seat, but he instead took the one right next to you. the bowl in your hands was pungent with sprouts, and even you recoiled. you placed it down in front of him, letting your hand linger on his back. “i’m no dietician,” you said quietly. “but i tried to substitute as much as i could.”

“thank you,” he said through clenched teeth, fucker.

you were quaint with your serving, taking enough for your fill, and sat down swiftly. conversation grew between all of the men, your brother included, and you ate in silence. you had done more thinking about your situation with your ex, and recoiled with a sickening feeling in your stomach. lando watched from the corner of his eye, noticing how little you touched your fork with your lips and spun your spoon amongst the rice.

he knew he said tribulating words. taunted you. teased you. but he did not mean for it to stretch as far as it had. you were twiddling with the accessories on your wrists, barely saying a word the entire meal, and he felt that it was his fault. you’d only gone as far enough to tease him with a full fish basking over an open flame on the stove.

it wasn’t shameful when he was devouring the meal you had cooked. despite the repugnant smell of fish lingering in the air, your food was…divine. he wasn’t all that surprised, but it was a nice treat to end one of the first full days.

but the most courageous ideas filled his head. he kept looking at you, staring, out of the corner of his eye. you were entirely blue with your melancholy, and he resented the soured expression upon your beautiful face. he took it as his own responsibility to relieve you of your worries. your anxieties. insecurities. as it was his fault that they emerged.

it didn’t take long before beneath the table, lando’s hand wandered. he began with a soft graze of your knee which had you sitting up straight, white skirt you dressed in before remaking its appearance around your hips.

you turned your head to face him, eyes flaring with wonder of just what the fuck he was doing. but his expression stayed nonchalant, undeterred from his conversation with your brother. you decided that you should play the same game, sliding into the roll of uncaring of his soft touches.

though it was much easier said than done.

his fingers were daunting. restless. he took a break to sip his water with his opposite hand, divulging into deeper conversation as his hand trailed higher. it was then that he spread his palm wide over the span of your thigh, bare, pinching at the skin. you leaned over the table, leaning your head into your palms that were supported by your elbows upon the table.

you sighed, your other leg jumping up and down. you attempted to listen to whatever they were talking about– football, instagram, the races– but you couldn’t tune in for long. not when he tugged the fabric of your skirt to the side, and let his pinky dance across your folds. fuck.

attempting to muffle your struggle, you brought your glass to your lips, sipping in promptitude. you leaned back, tucking your chair as far as you could against the table. it finally caught lando’s attention, briefly, when he gave you a once over with a cheeky smile. max caught the action, raising a brow at you, but you simply swallowed down your drink and crossed your hands over your lap.

your lap, that so happened to house lando’s hand between your thighs. your cunt was clothed by your panties, but you could still feel the pressure of his finger lodging against your slit.

you wrapped your hand around his wrist, gripping tight with the desire for him to stop, but he would do no such thing. he went as far as using his ring finger to stroke the cotton of your underwear, grazing over your clit as if it were nothing. he circled around your tender bundle of nerves, refusing to leave it alone.

your second hand came to wrap around his wrist, higher up on his forearm, pleading indefinitely to halt his movements. your thighs clenched impossibly tight around his hand, suffocating him, but it didn’t stop him. it only had him steadfast in his pursuit– to get you to come at this dinner table.

with your force against his forearm, you were sure to leave bruises of your fingertips in your wake. but you didn’t care. through your tension, he could feel your pleasure. he knew that you would writhe, squirm, but you couldn’t. not here.

you found yourself trembling. your grip around his wrist softened, lip caught between your top set of teeth. you were lucky that the tablecloth was acting as a barrier between any wandering eyes–though, shamefully, that was the last thing on your mind.

but right now, you felt yourself coming to a clearing. a light at the end of the tunnel in the name of your orgasm. shit.

it took only one quick glance around the room to see that everyone was done with their meals. with empty plates, they were awaiting more. and more you shall give, best to get up rather than submit to lando’s toilsome teasing. you couldn’t give him this pleasure. not when he toyed with you, refused to admit to any truths that might belittle his feelings.

you finally shoved his hand away. it took all the might you had, and it even had his head shifting in your direction. you stood, and he immediately tugged the hem of your skirt down beneath the table cloth. if anyone noticed, they didn’t say a word.

“dessert, anyone?”

there was a small rally of cheers, and you smiled. it was the only thing that could get your mind off of lando’s hand between your legs. the flushed expression you wore didn’t wane until you were alone in the kitchen.

it was ice cream that was for dessert, and that would be enough. you put out some toppings for them to choose from, and returned with the platter. you set it toward the center of the table, and the pickings were gone instantly. everyone had their own serving, side bowl, ready to go.

but lando waited for you to settle back in before he grabbed a pint of vanilla. he nudged the ice cream scooper towards your direction, a silent indication that had him asking if he could serve yours. you simply nodded, even though your cunt burned with the phantom touch of his fingers. he did that to you in no way another man could. leave you wanting more. sex with your ex boyfriend had been a joke. you never came. ever. you only did when it was at your own hand, your own touch. but with lando…

lando on that balcony, dressed in the pale moonlight. you, his angel, glowing halo of energy illuminating your face, unraveled before him. he doesn’t think he’s ever met such a woman receptive to his touch. he’s fucked girls before, too many for max’s taste–hence his displeasure– but they weren’t like you. they didn’t squirm, whimper, in his hold. they’d moan like they were being televised, recorded, ready to be on a screen play.

you were natural. beautiful. incapable of being anyone but yourself. he admired you for such bravery, commending you silently through the cosmic planes. though you could not hear the words from him, you felt a warmth coming from his direction despite the cold treat being scooped into the dish in front of you.

he gave you more than enough and smiled. a real one, you caught. it was a break from the humidity, a breeze that was most welcomed upon your skin. fuck. you were supposed to be mad at him, weren’t you? weren't you supposed to plot your volatile revenge for him touching you?

you were.

when he settled beside you with his own serving, you were quick to shuffle a bit closer to him. the chair scooted across the floor, a vibration felt beneath his own, and he bristled. what were you up to? you appeared to be happier, a bit less caught up in your own head, and that he could be grateful for. you even engaged in a few conversations with max’s friends.

they were lovely chaps, truly, but they were his friends. not yours.

lando was just about to respond to a question that max had asked him, but he coughed on his ice cream, the feeling of your fingertips darting across his crotch taking a huge galavanting surprise out of him. he didn’t know that you had such austerity within you, but it was a welcome discovery.

but your skillfulness was not.

the outline of his cock beneath his shorts was obvious. you felt the light curve, the tip, the base all beneath your palm. it was an empowering sensation, hidden beneath the table cloth, and lando had to outstretch both of his hands to steady himself.

“y’alright, mate?” max asked when lando coughed. the british driver nodded beside you, leaning forward.

“yeah. fine. carry on?” max repeated his question for lando. before he was about to answer for a second time, your hand curled around the base of his cock, feeling full in your palm. your thumb brushed against his tip, smiling to yourself when you felt a light wet patch against your finger.

he sucked in a tight breath, but answered max with a strained voice. he clenched his jaw tight and his tongue poked the inside of his cheek. you knew you were riling him, and it was paying off to see him flustered.

you continued your stroking motion discreetly beneath the table. the excitement of being caught was perhaps too thrilling, and the presence of your hand against his cock only excited you further. he was big. that was enough for you to be floored. your guesses as a edgy teenage girl were correct, and the woman inside of you purred at the idea of him inside of you.

little did you know, he thought the same. when his fingers were lodged inside your hot folds, your deathly tight grip clamping around him, he knew that he had to have you. he knew it years ago, too, but just how pretty you were atop of him…how receptive you were to his touch– it was a pillar of pleasure that continued to build and build, until it will ultimately fall.

until it will fall, and he is deep inside of you. with the outline of his cock embedded in your lower belly he would feel satisfied, with his cum dripping from your cunt, he could find a peace from this torturous lust that overtook every fucking part of his mind. he needed you. carnally. in whatever fashion labeled him as a barbarian, he would hunt you down if that is what you wanted.

and maybe you did.

you wanted him to chase you. to fight for you. to appease the teenage girl inside of you that yearned for his affections, his oblivious attentions. you felt that you deserved it for all the work you put in through your teendom. the boys you rejected. the time you gave up to attend his races.

was that such a bad thing to be wanted? to be wanted above all, by the man of your wonderlike dreams? but was he so dreamy, then, when he glanced at you with his needy, preening eyes when you held his cock so firm in your hand?

the answer was undoubtedly yes.

you felt the pulse of his cock against your hand. it was a delectable vibration that beat for you of all people. you felt more than divine prowess gripping his length, such a dirty, lewd, action beneath the table. and none of them knew what you had been doing. how you were affecting him. it was a secret wasn’t it?

the catalyst for your movements was about to be thwarted when he readjusted his hips in the chair, bucking fiercely against your touch, your hold on his dick.

conversations around you began to dull down to a minimum. the night was ending, and he felt himself rearing a release. but he couldn’t. not here. fuck. he gripped on your hand beneath the table, shivering, shaking, as he pleaded you with his eyes. they were wide drawn, glossed with a desperation that you needed permanently in your life. it was a face you wouldn’t forget. ever. how he yearned to cum in your hand, but it wasn’t the right time. when would be the right time?

“since you made dinner,” max began, letting out a grueling burp, “i say we lot ‘ought to tidy up, shall we?” the boys nodded and hummed amongst each other in agreement. they made quick pace clearing the table, and this was lando’s excuse to rip himself free of your devilish hand. though he wanted nothing more than to cum with your sleek fingertips, he had to be nonchalant about it all.

he cleared his throat when he stood, feigning a quietness that felt unusual, but no one said a word. you smiled to yourself, pulling your hand away back to your lap. it was damp from his precum, sordid with an urge to pop a finger or two into your mouth. and you did. pretending to clean yourself from any residue of icecream, you licked your fingers clean.

lando stared. unable to take his eyes off of you. he lingered with his hand around your bowl and plate, his breath hitching in his throat. devil woman, he thought.

when the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher and the fragile ones laid out to dry, you finally stood. you arched your back, stretching your limbs, but felt cold on your cunt. it was the air conditioning that cooled you, reminding you that he was the one to tease you first beneath the table.

your brother bid you goodnight with a kiss to your cheek, whilst the others thanked you sincerely for the meal. you were grateful to receive such gratitude, but it wasn’t from the man you wanted it the most.

tucking your chair into the table, you made your way into the grand kitchen. with its tiled walls, marbled kitchen island, lando stood at the epicenter. with a towel in his hand, drying the last few of the dishes, he watched you saunter in.

his tongue poked at the inner corner of his cheek with a clenched jaw. boy, did he have words for you. you and your actions. how you ruined him at the dinner table whilst talking to your brother of all people. it was like you wanted them to see–

when you joined him side by side, the pair of you said nothing for a moment. but the moment when lando scanned the room front to back, he dropped the towel and grabbed onto you.

he spun you around so your front pushed against the kitchen aisle, your back arching against the palm of his hand. his second went around the front of your throat, pulling your head up to his own.

“that what you wanted?” he growled into your ear, trembling with his edged orgasm teetering on the tailend of a massacre. “hmm? tell me, baby.”

you were at a loss of words, dizzied from the grip around your throat. you wished that he would leave bruises.

then he bent you over the counter, the cool surface eliciting a gasp from deep within you. his hand flexed over your back, scaling your spine.

“being a fucking tease…”

“you started it.” you retaliated with a childlike immaturity.

lando chuckled as his crotch came flush against your cunt. your wet, dampening cunt by the second. the hand that had been latched to your throat moved to your skirt, toying with the fabric. he scoffed, feeling the wetness of your panties. “bet you’re still wet anyways.”

you were.

your face flushed.

“dirty fucking girl.” he said quietly, a comment to himself, but loud enough for you to hear. you swayed your hips against his, desperate for a flickering sensation of friction.

“ah ah,” he tsked, landing a slap to your ass. the sound ricocheted through the echoing kitchen. “think you deserve it after tonight?”

you mewled in response, your cheek freezing against the countertop. the heat from your asscheek was enough to satisfy you for the moment, your thighs clenching together. he ogled, head twisting in a fashion that was revered with lust.

with a fist he made a makeshift ponytail of your hair, pulling your head back against his chest. “hmm?”

“no.”

“no?” he’d repeat. you nodded your head, submitting to him without question. he was peeved that you didn’t fight back, but would take your submission with earnestness. but you had other plans brewing inside your head. ones that you knew would drive him up the fucking wall.

but that would come later. for now, you let your head fall backward onto his shoulder, and looked up at him. “let me fix it…”

your whimpering had his eye twitching, lip curling, arms flexing. it was a gut reaction to how soft your voice had become, how eager he knew you were.

his hold on you loosened, and you took this as your opportunity to spin around and drop to your knees in front of him. you couldn’t help but gape at his thundering cock beneath his shorts, salivating at just the thought of him filling your mouth.

but he said nothing else, stunned in his place; how could he not be when you regarded him with ardor, quivering hands?

“please…” you said, your cheek coming to nuzzle against his thigh, one hand gripping the back of his calf. he couldn’t reject you like this. not when he wanted you so dearly.

a hand came to run through your hair atop your head. an nonverbal, encouraging pet. you hummed, making quick work of lowering his shorts, his briefs, and his cock sprung free with vitality. it was red hot, pulsating with blood, beating a bright scarlet for you. it glistened with his own slick for you.

“go on, love,” he was breathless. “you can take it, can’t you?”

you nodded furiously, a whine leaving your lips. with your determined fingers, you wrapped them around his base, pumping your hand back and forth. it didn’t take much before he was leaking over your palm, and you let your lips swirl around his tip.

his head fell back in pleasure, fingers tightening his grip in your hair. with his empty hand, he gripped the island to support his weight from toppling upon you.

he was both sweet and salty, a sensation you’ve never tasted before. you continued your relentless pursuit on his tip until he was wrought with desperation, and let his hips buck forward until he was half way down your throat.

you groaned in protest, your eyes watering with tears, but took him like the good girl you were. he wanted you, and you wanted him. you could ask for nothing more.

“just like that, baby–” he stuttered out, voice cracking when you took him whole down your throat. you breathed through your nose. “fuck,” he cursed, your lips puckering, even stimulating him with the top ridges of your teeth. he let out a deep moan.

“perfect,” he commented, but you thought you misheard him for a moment. “you’re perfect.”

it persuaded you further–not like much was needed– and sped up your pace. faster and faster you went, guzzling him perfectly. with your other hand that gripped his calf, calm to knead at his balls. that was the moment he faltered, unable to withstand your feverish tongue. he had to bite back his own groans of pleasure.

“where?” he demanded of you. you paused, but didn’t take long for your answer. he was holding himself back as much he could, his hips bucking down the hot cavern of your throat, but you didn’t relent. my mouth, your actions screamed, and he didn’t think twice.

before you knew it your mouth was loaded with his cum, hot rods of delectable nectar from him. you were pleased, more than satisfied, that you made him cum in just a matter of minutes.

he pulled himself out of you, letting you breathe. you swallowed, not finding him distasteful, and even showed him your bare tongue. he was panting, attempting his best to catch his breath, but managed a coarse chuckle.

you gave his flaccid cock a singular kiss before you rose to your feet, bringing his shorts and briefs up with you. he adjusted himself before launching his lips on your own. the remnants of him were prominent on your tastebuds as he swirled his tongue into your mouth. you allowed his strength, making a sound from your throat.

“taste like me,” he commented against your lips. you beam.

“must’ve been good, then?” you knew it was. but you wanted to hear it from him.

he snickered. “guess so.”

you slapped his chest before breaking your kiss. you glanced up at him one more time before placing a kiss on his cheek, escaping his grasp. he held onto your hand, though, wondering just where you were going. not when he didn’t have you cumming on his tongue.

“it’s past my bedtime,” you remarked, raising your brows. his own scrunched. “what?”

“let me–”

you shushed him.

“on the house.”

you were gone before he could respond, skipping up the steps, ready to set your plan in motion. he didn’t know what was coming, not yet, but he surely would once you closed the door to your room, and stripped of your clothes.

you left him there pondering. he was entirely at a loss— you skirting away with ease, high tail with that lacey material– and vanished without another word. it had lando breathing heavily, hands running through his hair. shit, he thought, this was bad.

in the bathroom of your suite, you twisted the shower on. whilst waiting for it to heat up, you turned your attention towards the open shaft windows that you could prop open. your room is next to mine, lando’s words rang through your head. okay, you thought, game on, right?

you made sure the windows were open at a respectable distance, praying that his own would be too. he liked the cool breeze from the night, pray tell from his times of sleeping in max’s room in your childhood home.

glancing at yourself in the mirror once, you were betting on this to work. to truly grab his attention, whilst also awarding yourself a release you’d been craving since his fingertips caressed your knee.

into the shower you went, tilting your head back and letting the waterfall drench your scalp. it was relaxing, more than you anticipated, and your mind was able to wander to other things. like his hands. his toned, muscular arms. his neck, built intensely with strength that you’ve never seen before. in certain lights, especially beneath the italian sun, it bulged outward. you wondered what it’d feel like between your thighs. your fingers wandered along your soaked skin, breasts reacting to your touch, taut beneath your palms.

lando had just shut the door to his room, shaking off the sweat that dribbled down his forehead. and his windows were open— the curtains swaying back and forth— and he heard your call.

at first, the british driver thought that he was hallucinating. that he was hearing things from losing it. but there was no denying that it was your sweet siren serenading through the air, wafting against the mediterranean winds.

a moan had been pulled from you by your own hand. your head flat against the tiles of the shower wall, you twisted until your cheek was firm against the siding. one hand came to rest on the base of your throat, gripping for comfort, while the other trailed downward to your navel, priming at your folds.

you were swollen hot, but never to the same degree you were on his lap just the previous night.

it was enough, though, for you to rub against your clit the way you knew your body best. a delicious combination of whimpers and moans trembling through the air.

lando was brought to his fantasies, unbelieving that they were coming alive before him. he leaned against the windows from his room, hand clenching tight around the ledge, and listened to your whining calls, urging him, tempting him, to knock down your fucking door and fuck you like you wanted him.

a finger slid easily inside of you. with both stimulation to your clit and your sensitive nerves inside of you, it was heaven. the hot water combined with your punitive thoughts, tracing back to lando, aroused you to a degree unfathomable to any pleasure you’ve ever felt. besides his fingers, that is.

lando couldn’t resist. his own cock was blistering with heat, again, in just the span of ten minutes. you had just been on his knees for him. now, here you were, a siren within the night, taking him under your bewitching.

and spellcasted he was.

with his dick in his hands, he was dripping. your sounds became louder, prominent, for his open window. and he absorbed every droplet you gave him, a man dehydrated of the world’s most sweet nectar. he was greedy, selfish even, and knew then that he had to be yours. he didn’t give a fuck what max said, thought, cared about this moment. it would belong to him and him alone— your saccharine temper.

he could imagine you there, thinking about just how desperate he was. how you knew what you were doing to him. how he unfolded before your voice.

you were.

you thought of his face. how it contorted with pleasure while you sucked him off. you’d remember the sounds he made— whimpers of desperate, wicked nature— that had you curling your finger inside of you, even becoming so bold as to add a second. it should be criminal to think of your brother’s best friend this way, but that thought came and went just as the tides changed.

lando fisted his cock with the thought of you wrapped around him. hand draped across the ledge of the windowsill, he writhed and seethed from his own daring thoughts of you. your skirt, your pretty eyes, your wondrous nature. he was awed by you, but wanted to damn you to ruin with his touch. it pursued him further, and he knew he wasn’t going to last long.

surely he wouldn’t, not when he heard his name carry through the air. his name rolling off your tongue. his name in the form of a whimper.

“lando,” you breathed, loud enough to surpass the stream of the water. and your stomach coiled, reaching an orgasm before you could count to three.

lando had, too, spurring loads of his come into his empty hand. it wasn’t an elegant movement— rather messy and untamed— but that’s how it was when it came to you, wasn’t it? nothing was going to be easy about this relationship he conjured up in his head, but for you, though it’d be worthwhile.

you went to bed that night with a sleep full of your wildest, fanatical dreams that included lando. whereas he tossed and turned, unable to believe that the girl he knew in his childhood had him wrought with lust.

the morning that followed was a quiet one. you and the rest of the vacation group of boys were headed out to one of italy’s finest beaches, chartered there by a small boat. you had opted for one of your best bathing suits and cover up pieces, looking outright chic.

when you arrived at the beach, you stuck closely to max’s side. the entire ride, lando had been stealing glances from you, shifting awkwardly in his seat. you had your answer from your plan the previous night. he heard you.

good, you thought, crossing your legs over one another. serves him right.

you’d lay out your towel on the white sand. your brother joined you, laying down a few feet from you along with some of his buddies. lando kept his distance, knowing too fucking well that’d he’d pull some feral shit in front of you and your brother.

some of the others opted for surfing. with their boards ready from the rental shack, they were catching waves with ease. you watched from your upright position, lathering yourself in spf.

“what’dya think of chris?” your brother asked you. you turned your head, wondering what he was implying. chris was one of his good-natured, all classic, sweet boy friends. you’d known him for a good majority of your life, but never…really thought of him.

“he’s a good guy.”

lando was sitting up now. listening.

“well,” max shrugged, taking your nonchalant answer with grace. “asked me if it was okay to give him your number. think he fancies you.”

your expression dropped. chris fancied you? in what universe could he, when he couldn’t even manage a conversation with you. you weren’t even sure he could ever muster the courage to look you in the eye, for that matter.

“and…what did you say?”

max looked at you with his sunglasses on. you saw your reflection in them.

“think it’s fine. ‘e’s a good lad. nice. well-mannered.” he emphasized his last point. was that a jab at your previous boyfriends? “besides…i wanna see you happy.”

it was touching, truly, that your brother cared for you on such a protective level, but you didn’t need him meddling with your romantic life. not when the man who consumed your sexual thoughts sat a few bodies next to you.

your eyes drifted to find lando’s. he was already glaring, sending sharp daggers your direction. he heard it all, and was about to combust with jealousy. you could see it. you’d use it.

“maybe.” you brushed it off, but found chris in the waters. he was just coming out from the sea, and you thought this was your perfect opportunity.

you jumped to your feet, sunglasses on, and tore your cover up from your body. you didn’t look back to know what lando’s expression was— worshiping.

chris’ head popped up when he saw you approaching him. he shifted a bit, as if he were preening his feathers.

“catch any good ones?” you asked, your feet touching the water. chris cleared his throat.

“some,” he gestured to the large waves. “current is strong today.”

you edged further into the water until your knees were covered.

“you looked good out there, at least i think so.” you managed a smile, not entirely opposed to his company. your brother had been right. he is a nice lad. you should at least build a friendship with him, shouldn’t you?

“really?” he was shocked. “you were watching?”

you nodded with a hum, and continued further out into the blue waters. chris took this as an invitation and dropped his board high up on the sand and followed you in. he wasn’t as built as lando was, but you shouldn’t even be making the comparisons.

you stopped when the water was just beneath your breasts. water seeped in through your top, and you noticed that chris’ eyes caught on the fabric. typical.

“what do you do for work, then? are you a student?” you managed a brief conversation with him. chris met you at your side.

“business student in scotland,” he confirmed, but he wasn’t all cocky about it. you thought that he’d boast, but he didn’t. “yourself?”

you told him your plans. he was impressed that you’d accomplished so much at your age.

and your conversation with him went on, but not without the darkness of lando’s envy over your shoulder. you’d taken a few glances over chris’ shoulder to see his reddened expression, watching the pair of you share a few laughs.

he wanted this day to be fucking over. he wanted you in his bed. and he would have it one way or another— whatever it takes.

arriving back to the villa that evening, your brother and his friends wanted to go out clubbing. it was around 8pm and the sun was beginning to set, though you didn’t feel like a night out. the sun had gotten to you, and you were rather tired.

“you’re sure you don’t wanna go?” max asked you in the foyer, waiting for the rest of his band to go along.

“i’m sure. besides, i could use a night in.” your brother respected your choice and didn’t push you further. before he left with his friends, he did turn and leave you with one comment.

“lando’s here, too, in case you need anything.”

and then he was gone, tailending with chris flashing you a smile.

shit.

shit, shit, shit. you knew you were in for it now. there was no way that you’d escape lando for the evening, unsure how he caught notice that you’d be staying in for the night.

when the door shut and the house was empty, you raced up to your room. you’d worn a floor length slip dress when you’d gotten home, but wanted to change and lock yourself in for the rest of the night. but your situation changed drastically when you reached the first step, and saw lando leaning against the staircase from the top.

“just you and me, yeah?”

you gulped, taking a few steps back. he looked furious yet unbothered at the same time.

“what to do, what to do…” he began to saunter down the steps when you moved back. “in this big, empty house…?”

he trailed after you all the way until you were on the balcony. he slipped out from the sliding door, watching as you were frantically nervous in his presence. you had no idea what he was thinking, watching you all day flirt with chris.

your back was against the stone balustrade, hands spread wide to support yourself. your heart was racing, but you wouldn’t let him see that. wouldn’t show him the effect he had.

lando wore a black ln4 shirt from his collection, along with tan sweatpants. it was an understatement to say he didn’t look fucking good.

he donned a cocky smirk as he closed the distance between the two of you, leaning into your space. you felt his breath on your cheek.

“he’s a good lad, innhe?”

you met his eye— his blue, green eyes that were swarmed with a darkness you didn’t believe him capable of.

“he’s nice.” you said, referring to chris. because he was. he was respectful.

“‘he’s nice.’” lando mocked, scoffing. he turned his head to the side to look over your shoulder to the coastline that surrounded the villa.

“yes, he’s nice.” you bit back, brows furrowing. “more than i can say for you.”

lando’s expression froze, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. his jaw tightened as he processed your words, foot tapping against the stone.

“yeah? you don’t think i’m good to you?”

whatever this was…you loved it. you craved him. needed him. there was a zing of electricity that ran down your spine, electrifying your cunt. your thighs tightened together and you shrugged, playing him off the best that you could.

he tsked, tilting your chin to meet his eyes with his index finger. “we’ll see.”

and then his lips were on yours. ravaging. starving. he was a man that has been deprived of you for far too long— twenty four hours— without your touch. it was maddening the way he was obsessed with you. how you infested every corner of his mind. you, you, and more you.

you succumbed to his kiss with ease, your tongues battling between one another. he tasted of espresso, whereas you tasted of the apple liquor from the boat.

he won, ultimately, a hand coming to wrap around the back of your neck. your own latched to his shoulders, another going for his hair. you tugged on the strands, eliciting a groan from him that you wished to hear over and over, time and time again. you were sure that you would, not daring to ever let him go. you had him surrounded.

his tongue lathered over yours, dripping saliva down your chin. it was messy, intangibly so, but you’d have him no other way. you wanted him like this, uncontrolled, pining, for your affections. you had him in the place you wanted, and he had more in store for you.

he broke the kiss with a string of saliva connecting the pair of you. your eyes heavy with desire, his own mirroring the same. his kisses traveled to your jaw, your throat— but he sucked feverishly against the skin, surely to leave bruises. you gasped when you felt his teeth puncture through the top layer of your skin. “marks—”

you reminded him, but he didn’t care.

“fuck what they think.”

you melted where you stood. his hand came to wrap around your lower back, angling your hips to brush against his. he was already hard, you could feel it, but you were sure that you were dribbling too.

his relentless pursuit of your neck didn’t end there. when he met the fabric of your dress, he pulled the straps down with ease, your breasts falling free. he ogled at your mounds, saliva dripping from his chin. it was, perhaps, the hottest sight you’ve ever seen. not the waterfalls of france, not the cascades of lake como— but this, right here— lando norris drooling on your chest.

“what would you do with ‘nice’?” he mumbled into your skin, attacking one of your perked nipples with his tongue. you gasped, biting your lip to retain a moan.

“he could treat me well,” you seethed through clenched teeth, gripping the strands of his brunette curls. you felt him vibrate with a hum.

“you’d eat him alive.” he chuckled, switching to your other nipple that was blistering with heat. your entire body radiated like the sun, but did no good beneath the moonlight. “what would he do—” a nip of his teeth against your nipple, you jolted, hips bucking forward with an anxious pension for friction. “with all of this?”

you were at a loss for words, drowning in his sweetness.

“let it go to waste…” lando dropped to his knees with a hand still firm on your back, the other raising the hem of your dress. he tsked, cheek flattening out against your thighs. he separated them with the strength of his neck, looking up at you from the bundled fabric. “a shame.”

you agreed mercilessly, nodding your head with a whimper. it elicited a laugh from him.

with a singular finger he pulled down your panties. the cotton was thin, as if you knew this would happen. they slid down your legs and you kicked them away.

your hand was still threaded at the base of his neck, continuing to tug at his strands. it’s how you told him you needed him, but that wouldn’t be enough. not for lando.

“what do you want?” he asked, looking up at you from his seated position, face wedged between your legs. you gaped at him, breathless and flushed.

“your mouth—” you pant, but before you could finish he licked a long stripe down your folds. “god, fuck—”

“not god,” lando corrected. “just me, baby.”

“lando, lando…!” you whined, back arching for a better angle for him to reach. he responded, humming against your clit, sending throttling vibrations up your navel. he was so fucking good. how? how could a man treat you in such a way?

finding your writhing adorable, he finally let his tongue swipe past your entrance. the sensation was indescribable, but you knew that you needed more. and more he was willing to give, burying his face into your cunt.

your honeyed cunt that he was addicted to. he knew you’d taste like heaven, but this was all the more holy than he could fathom.

with his face buried inside of you, you were sure to see stars. here, beneath the moonlight of the italian villa, you were ethereal. he could steal glances up at you. your contorting face, toiling with passion. passion that he drank from the source, sucking you dry.

his nose applied pressure to your clit— the perfect combination— and you knew that you weren’t going to last long. not with his jean paul scent invaded your senses, his thick hands cupping you so perfectly. one hand kneaded at the flesh of your thigh, the other swirling circles on your lower back. it was perfect. he’s perfect.

“please, please,” you didn’t know what you were begging for.

lando hummed, feeling your cunt clench around his tongue. he curled inside of you, teetering you upon your edge, and you were just about to let loose when he pulled his head away, leaving you trembling.

he stood with ease, as if he wasn’t just devouring you, and you reached out for his hand. you were about to reach the peak of a mind blowing orgasm, but he denied you. with your hand wrapped around his, he knew how this would end. his lips came to your ear.

“you were right,” he huffed. you felt his retentive anger. “don’t know if i’m nice.”

he tugged you along through the house, hand upon your back steading your shaking stance. too impatient to help you up the steps, he swooped you into his arms bridal style. you gasped with a giggle, reflexive from his actions, and he burst open the door to his room with his shoulder.

he dropped you onto his bed, ripping off his shirt in the process you propped yourself up on your elbows, gaping clearly at his tanned, toned skin. he smirked down at you, coming to hover above, and stripped the dress clean from your body. before him, you were bare, naked, more exposed than you've ever been with your brother’s best friend.

you went to cover your chest, clamp your thighs shut, but lando refused. he trapped your wrists above your head, knee coming to separate your legs. you wiggled your hips hopelessly for friction, still wading heavy on your lost orgasm, but he didn’t let you graze his thigh.

“you’re being mean,” you whined, attempting to twist out of his hold. but you didn’t prevail.

lando’s lips met yours with a kiss of depravity. he pulled away, but you chased him, your head leveraging from the bed.

“am i?”

one hand left the hold on your wrists to touch your cunt. you were dripping down your thighs. he brought his fingers to his lips, wiping them clean.

“think you like it, love.”

you hissed when he took his hand from you, but relaxed when he kneaded one of your breasts. he was in utter reverence of your body, your beauty. you eclipsed all things that shined bright in his life, you becoming the epicenter.

his pants were off in the next second, thrown to the corner of his room. his briefs, too, and his cock danced freely from its entrapment. your mouth watered.

“this what you need?” his tip teased your entrance. your eyes rolled back into your head with a frenzied nod. “yeah? think you can take it?”

“yes, yes! i can, i can, please lando…” your hand latched around the back of his neck, the other to his shoulder.

it didn’t take him much convincing to surge forward, agonizingly slow, until he has inside of you. you choked on your breath, the air ripped right from you lungs with how he stretched you. it was alike no pleasure you’ve felt— his fingers, his tongue, all works of mastery— but you feared that nothing could compare to this. not when his hand around your breasts drop to your cunt, rubbing voracious circles against your clit.

he let you adjust, waiting until you shook your hips from side to side, and bottomed out. it was surreal how you ended up here. but you wouldn’t go back. not for a second. not when his dick inside of you ripped through you with such passion, such love, you were inclined to imagine.

lando’s own breaths were wild. erratic. he had to halt himself from slamming inside of you, your tightening, wet walls gleaning him of any morals he had come into this villa with.

“move,” you urged him, breaking him free of this torment. his eyes flared wide. “need you to move.”

need

such an all encompassing word that would drive him mad.

he listened to you without hesitation. his hips slapping in and out of you with a heavy, dangerous pace, he never wanted this moment to end. it would feel like this every time he fucked you— the first, starstruck time— and that would be enough for him to lay to rest in an early grave.

both of you were a mess of moans, sounds of skin on skin echoing through his bedroom. the moonlight casted a white haze upon the pair of you, your eyes shimmering in the reflection. he was lost in it, in you, how seraphic you’d become in just the few days he’d been around you. how undone he became. he was a lost cause the minute you made a jest to him at the dinner table.

his chest lowered to yours for a better, sweeter, angle and it had you screaming. your nails cut through his back, leaving reddened scratches against his tanned, freckled skin. he loved it. it had his pace quickening, and his hand working harder at your clit. you were close, he could feel it.

feeling the way you began to tighten around him, how you became barely lucid beneath him. “so good,” you mewled, finding no other words but to praise him.

“nothing compares,” he groaned, his head falling into the crook of your neck. “you’ll be mine then, yeah?”

your heart surged in your chest, but your breathing remained the same. you were too fucked out to truly resonate the meaning behind his words.

“yours, yours,” you repeated over and over until you were sent over the edge. you screamed his name, cutting through the air, cutting through him. he was left a sopping mess with his quivering hips, sloppy pace. you knew he was going to cum, too, when his teeth grinded together, and he let out a guttural moan. it churned your insides, swishing your heart through.

he came inside of you. you felt it, the heat from his cock. but he made no effort to move. you didn’t want him to.

the pair of you laid atop one another in his dark room. panting. catching your breaths. in unison your hearts would align. sweaty bodies melting against each other.

his head was buried deep into your neck, breathing you in. you soothed him, just as much as you riled him to no end.

“did you mean it?” you asked, voice hoarse.

lando hummed.

“about us.”

you felt his teeth break into a smile against your skin. he raised his head to look at you. “i did.” your breath caught in your throat. “don’t give a shit what max’ll say. we’ll figure it out, won’t we?”

you nodded in agreement. your brother would simply have to deal with this. he’d get over it in time, you’re sure, and it would be the best for both of you. no longer would you yearn at a distance for a man you thought didn’t spare you a second glance. no longer would you dream of this moment materializing before you. it had become a reality, and there was nothing more that you could be grateful for.

he wanted you. lando wanted you. and you wanted him the same. it was one of the first times in your life that you felt safe. comforted in a newborn relationship.

it wasn’t long before lando pulled the covers of his sheets over the two of you, holding you tight as you shifted into the shape of his body. you were a perfect fit, a missing puzzle piece that he’s been searching years for.

and now you were here, sleeping soundly in his arms.

lando had found sleep, too, his soft snores carrying through the room. you and him paid no attention to the fact you were sharing a bed. if anyone walked in, then they walked in. you were at peace, and that was enough.

sooner rather than later, the party-goers for the evening arrived home. they attempted their best to be quiet at such an odd hour, and decided to retire. max and chris went out to the balcony, however, and decided for a small chat.

but before that could even commence, chris noticed a piece of black fabric loose on the patio. he stared at it from above, brows raised.

“mate,” he called max over. he met him at his side.

“this yours?” he pointed down at it, and his face went ghastly white. no fucking way.

“motherfucker.”

tags ; @landoslutmeout @basicallyric @mybluesoul1 @toriiez @customsbyjcg-blog @sofs16@strengthandstay@mybluesoul1@f1fantasys@cmleitora @idgasb @amalialeclerc @laneyspaulding19 @staurdvst @oreosareara @sideboobrry11 @mortallyblueninja @fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot @fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch

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