#and so proud of them this makes me so happy

[httpsserene]

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 '𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐰𝐨 | 𝐬𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐜𝐬. 𝟓𝟓 & 𝐥𝐧. 𝟒

summary: have you worked every shift possible for a chance of running into carlos and lando? yes. are you mad that you have a month of summer left and you still haven’t stumbled upon them? yes.

content warning: 18+. mdni. explicit sexual content. plot with porn. summer fling/vacation romance. fluff. light angst. light angst with a happy ending. banter. attempt at humor. explicit language. reader has a mom and dad. original side characters. dates. golf. miscommunication (done right). reader is bad at feelings. flirting. d/s undertones. light dom!carlos. switch!lando. switch!reader. brat!lando. hair-pulling. light pain kink. light praise kink. cunnilingus. vaginal fingering. threesome m/m/f. vaginal sex. protected sex. overstimulation. carlos sainz jr’s canonically big dick. petnames. orgasm delay? envy and jealousy.

pairing: poly! carlos sainz jr x lando norris x phd-student! fem!black!reader

word count: 18k words. (new record!)

from, serene: i am extremely proud of what i created. i hope it was worth waiting for, and i can't wait for the next episode !!! my next upload might be an alex albon smau series, for those that requested it. pls pls pls, send me asks and leave comments on this if you'd like! i'd love to hear your thoughts on sip of sunshine, and how it's building so far xxx thank you so much, my loves :) (50 more followers until 3k :o)

this has also been uploaded on my AO3 for anybody who finds it easier to read a fic of this length on there (looking out for those on mobile x)

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Studying for a doctorate does not directly correlate to a person’s brilliance. If you were smart, you wouldn’t have returned to the golf club for another summer with the sole hope of reuniting with the two stunningly fine men you shared a ten-minute conversation with. However, you chose to beat intelligence in a foot race, and here you are: driving the same beverage cart while sweating off your sunscreen for the fifth year in a row; furthermore, you have not crossed paths with Carlos and Lando once in the two months you’ve been working.

It’s difficult to believe that Lando had told the truth when he mentioned that they’ve been attending Club La Moraleja consistently for the past four years. You want to believe him, but the evidence against him is overwhelming. You’ve worked every possible shift this season, at every possible time, on every possible course, without a single spotting of the duo from the beginning of June. 

It’s August. If you allow yourself to think maniacally, you would infer that they’re avoiding you on purpose.

Previously, you were under the assumption that they were obviously flirting with you. The sexual innuendos, double-entendres, calling you a “sip of sunshine,” and the eighty euro tip Carlos left you (which had to be a mistake)—from which you deduced that they were making a move on you. You would even say that their instance in convincing you to return to the green was the smoking gun you needed to seal their fate in the case of you catching their interest. 

Nonetheless, they are nowhere to be found. 

You cope by entertaining the aspect of you suffering from heat stroke or heat exhaustion, and you created Carlos and Lando as a figment of your delusions during your compromised mental state. On the other hand, there’s also a chance that they took your joking threat—of never returning if you had to put up with their subpar pick-up lines—seriously. You didn’t consider that they would misunderstand your teasing banter but, you haven’t seen them a single time this summer.  

It’s unsettling. You’ve never been this disappointed about men not taking the clear hint. 

Obviously, you’d be relieved if any of the sleazy, rude, and archaic golfers stopped bothering you after their first attempt. But, Carlos and Lando? They’re the exact opposite of the men you described. They’re young, polite, funny, charming, and attractive. It’s not outlandish for you to say that there was some budding chemistry between you three.

It’s regrettably characteristic of you to develop crushes on men you haven’t shared more than one conversation with. Too bad you’re never going to see them again. And, screw them! Who do they think they are? It’s not like they’re anybody special—they probably delighted in filling your mind with false hope. 

The next time you see them, you’re running them over with the bev cart. All gas, no breaks.

The motor whirs loudly as you drive over a hill to the last hole of Course Four—and, you’ll be damned.

“Well, look at you! You stayed!”

You can’t tell if this is the universe blessing you or sending you a curse in disguise. 

Lando’s words ring in your ears as your brain fails to compute the sight of him and Carlos smiling at you from across the green, down in a bunker. 

Lando’s…matured beautifully, over the year you haven’t seen him. He was attractive before, but as you direct the cart closer, you can tell he’s grown into himself. There’s a broadness to his shoulders, a sharpness to his eyes, and a hollowness to his cheekbones that certainly makes it impossible for anybody to deny that he’s beautiful. 

Carlos is angeringly more handsome than he was before, somehow. You blame it on the backwards cap and his stupidly wide, warm, beautiful, brown eyes. You cut the engine off, scratching fiendishly at the back of your neck to dispel your thoughts about his nose and lips, how you would pay to see his brown eyes darkened between your thighs.

“Obviously,” you state dryly, roughly tucking the curls that slipped from your ponytail behind your ear, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Their grins falter at your biting tone and they glance at each other in surprise at your irritated response. They climb out of the bunker and walk to meet you at the side of the cart. You’ve turned your back to them, hearing their footsteps approach but you continue to mindlessly organize any cups that shifted out of place as you drove.

“It was just an observation,” the Brit continues, you can hear him still smiling around his words, “A conversation starter, I guess.”

You put on an impassive expression before turning around and staring at the two with your arms crossed, “Mm. Who’s the one who’s bad enough at golf to land in the bunker? Wait—don’t tell me! You’re both probably stuck in the sand trap.” 

Lando’s mouth audibly drops open with an insulted gasp and Carlos’s brow furrows in confusion.

You wave a dismissive hand through the air before they can reply, “What do you want to drink?”

“Uh…What?” Carlos fumbles, lost at your deviation.

“What, ‘what?’” You snap, annoyed at his feigned innocence, like he’s unaware that they lead you on for the entirety of a summer that they just appeared in, “What do you want to drink? As in a refreshment? ¿Una bebida? I know you’re familiar with ordering from the cart as I served you last year—and since you both have been coming here for five years!” [A drink?]

The two stare at you in blatant terror as your voice echoes in the air. Their stunned silence at your “unfounded” anger only serves to exasperate you further.

“Make it quick,” your voice trembles infuriatingly, “What would you like to drink?”

“Did we do something wrong? If we upset you, we have no idea what we did,” Carlos rambles pleadingly. You almost buy it.

“Yeah, what’s with the attitude?” Lando gracefully ruins their chances of being acquitted, “We haven’t seen you in nearly a year; What could we have done wrong?”

“Attitude—are you serious!?” You scoff, insulted at the very idea, before continuing mockingly “Whatever—it’s a beer and a lime mocktail, right? Or, would you prefer a sip of sunshine?”

The men don’t have a chance to edit their orders as you sharply throw open the beer cooler, all three of you flinching as the lid slams into the cart and the bottles and cans clamoring together worryingly. You don’t let the fear of damaged property interrupt your fury as you brandish the beer towards Carlos, snatching your hand away as soon as his closes around the neck of the bottle. 

He murmurs his thanks in his native tongue but the curl of his accent—no matter how alluring it sounds—incenses you further, and you huffily turn your back towards them as you craft Lando’s drink.

The thought of them being truthful about their confusion about your annoyance flares in your mind as you shovel ice into the plastic cup. It’s possible that there has been some miscommunication…but, that would be embarrassing for you to admit. You’ve already acted incredibly rude and like a total brat to them—to customers, at that! Ohmygod, you’ve let your personal emotions affect your work; they could report you to your manager and have you fired. 

Your breath stutters as your overcome with a chill that feels like you’ve dumped ice down your own shirt. The drink is quickly assembled, and you find yourself wishing for a painless death as you fasten an orange slice as garnish on the rim of the cup instead of a lime. A slice of sunshine, if you will.

Meekly, this time around, you offer the cup to Lando. He looks increasingly disturbed at the sudden switch of your demeanor. You watch the Brit glance at his companion, his look clearly communicating that he’s checking if Carlos agrees that you’ve lost your mind, most likely.

The Spaniard must have agreed because Lando giggles nervously, the sound glaringly revealing his discomfort, “You didn’t poison my drink, did you?”

Your brain starts to self-destruct in embarrassment. Carlos hides his face in his free hand, but the sound of pain that escapes him at the ill-timed joke is clear. To be fair, Lando looked like he regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth, but the damage was done. 

Your cheeks burn furiously, you’re simultaneously angry and disappointed in yourself. How could you allow yourself to become overrun by your emotions on the clock? It’s unprofessional and uncharacteristic of you. 

You excuse yourself shakily, “I-I am so sorry. Perdóname. I was rude to you both for no reason. I apologize sincerely for my behavior. Do not worry about paying, your drinks are on me. I hope you both enjoy yourself on the green—Buenas tardes.” [Forgive me; Good afternoon.]

Carlos and Lando are silent as you scamper into the driver’s seat, tail figuratively tucked between your legs. The ride back to the clubhouse is silent as you berate yourself for your stupidity. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to forget the way you ruined your chances with them. You already know your subconscious will play this on repeat every time you try to sleep. The cart beeps as you reverse into its assigned spot. Isabel, one of the fellow cart girls—and your best friend—waves at you with a smile as she walks over towards you. She must be the next on shift.

“You look like you’ve just been fired,” Isa’s smile has transformed into a look of concern, “¿Estás bien?” [Are you okay?]

Grabbing your belongings, you slide out of the driver's seat with a haunted look in your eyes. “You remember the two guys I told you about? From last summer? I think I just scared them away.”

“No,” Isa exhales in denial, pulling you into a hug, “There’s no way. What happened?”

“I yelled at them and insulted them for being bad at golf,” you mumble, yelping sharply as she  communicates her displeasure by slapping at your arm, “I was mad at them, okay! They were pretending to be innocent, like they had no clue they avoided me for the entire summer! They’re going to complain to the Club and get me fired because I was unprofessional and rude!”

“Ay! You don’t know that! You still served them, and apologized right?” Isa brightens further when you mention you served them for free, she ignores your pout as you rub your hand against the stinging skin of your bicep, “Then, it’s probably nothing. If they do complain, this is your first complaint ever. You won’t get fired—you will just have to wash the carts for the rest of the summer.”

You fall to your knees on the hot concrete in despair and Isa snorts at your dramatics, bending to pluck the cart keys from your pocket. 

“I’m just going to quit, inmediamente!” [Immediately!]

“If you quit, I quit,” Isa reminds you, “And, out of the two of us, I need this job. I’m broke. So, you can’t quit, unless you want me to suffer.”

“I would take care of you,” you beg, “I have my office job back in the States. You could marry me and get a green card! Let me quit!”

Isa cackles at the concept, “You hate your office job. Anyway, quitting won’t save you from your colleagues here. Don’t forget we’re all going out tomorrow night! You can’t escape this time, you promised me.”

You groan in indignation, “Is it a crime to not like clubbing every night?”

“¡Sí, lo es!,” She frowns, “It’s clubbing every night in Madrid! And, I need moral support if I have to watch Lucas flirt with Sofia. I don’t know what he sees in her.” [Yes, it is!]

Grumbling fitfully, you wish her a good shift before dragging yourself into the Clubhouse. You’re still quitting. There’s not a chance in hell that you’re coming back next summer—there is nothing worth staying for anymore. Sorry, Isa.

Out of all the shifts you’ve worked, the 8 A.M. to 3 P.M. is your least favorite. You blink blearily as you hang up your belongings in the same locker you chose four years ago, fighting the urge to rub at your eyes, with the thought of not smearing your mascara. Pinning your nametag on your pressed shirt is muscle memory, and you slide on a club-branded visor to protect your face because the UV index is concerningly high today. 

You pause to stare at the photos pinned to the inside of your locker door—they date from your very first summer till now, with familiar faces and some you haven’t seen in a while. It’s heartwarming. You haven’t posted a single one of these photos in here; your friends do it on their own (the password to your locker is apparently community knowledge—you could change it, but then you’d stop collecting them), taping Polaroids from moments on the course to shenanigans off the course to nights out in the city, with captions and notes written on the back. 

The sense of belonging and community you found here is why it was so difficult to come to a decision about leaving this place and its people behind. Your lips tilt up at a photo of you and the cart team covering your boss’s car in sticky notes two summers ago—he made you all collect the stray golf balls from the putting green that night in retaliation. And, he laughed deeply as the sprinklers drenched all of you, which is another few snapshots commemorated in your locker. 

You don’t think you’ll ever be able to leave.

“Mami,” Lilia, the receptionist on duty this morning, calls you from the locker room door, “The two really hot Formula One drivers are asking for you?”

You shoot a look of confusion her way, “huh—why me? I don’t know them?”

“Umm, yes you do?” Lilia mirrors your bafflement, “They say you’ve served them before. And that they want to apologize for something?”

“¿Qué?”

“I don’t know! I’m just repeating what they told me—” The brunette woman cuts herself short, and her eyes narrow after a moment, “Hey, if they’re bothering you, I’ll get them banned. I didn’t tell them that you were here, I just said I’d check to see if you had come in. Did they bother you? Don’t lie to me! I’ll call security and get them gone!”

“What, no! I don’t know them, or even know what Formula One is! I haven’t had a bad interaction or served any drivers—oh.” Your stomach sinks as your eyes shut woefully, “I fucked up.”

Lilia threatens to get them banned again when she sees the bronze skin of your face lose its luster. You tell her to let them know you’ll be out in a moment and to not threaten them. You step to the full-length mirror to check your appearance and adjust your uniform. Centering yourself with a few deep breaths, you turn the door handle and make your way out to the reception desk.

The squeaking of your sneakers on the tile floor only adds to your anticipation. A small part of you hopes that Carlos and Lando aren’t the Formula One drivers asking for you, and that this is all some misunderstanding. You feel your soul die inside of you as your eyes meet theirs. Their expressions look determined and apologetic, and your palms feel sweaty as you come to terms with them preparing to file a formal complaint. 

Lilia clears her throat abruptly from where she’s pretending to organize membership files. You see a blush bloom on Carlos and Lando’s cheeks as they realize that they’ve been staring at you without saying anything for longer than what’s politely appropriate, but you beat them to the chase.

“Buenos días. U-umm,” you anxiously scratch at the nape of your neck, “…Is this about yesterday? Or the tip you left last summer? It was too generous to not be an accident. It’s past our refund period, but I can reach out to the manager on duty to see if we can work something out.” [Good morning.]

“I gave you eighty euros on purpose,” Carlos states without doubt, and you feel Lilia’s stare piercing your side profile.

“Oh.”

“I wanted to speak to you about yesterday—”

You cut in, “Yesterday was my fault! I think I misunderstood you both and I overreacted. It was nothing personal—”

Lando clasps his hands together, interrupting you with an imploring tone, “It was personal, though. Which is fine, I think we deserved it. Especially if there was a misunderstanding on our part. We would’ve communicated with you clearer if we were sure that you were on the same page as us. We would appreciate it if you would allow us to make it up to you.”

Lilia kicks your ankle underneath the desk, doing enough freaking out for the both of you as you struggle to keep your face calm.

“I feel like I’m still the one at fault for the miscommunication. But—how were you planning to…smooth things over, I guess?” You ask.

“Allow us to take you to dinner tonight, and explain,” Carlos finishes, weaponizing those eyes of his, helped by Lando softening his own at you desperately for a chance.

“Oh—um, I would love to, really, but I already have plans tonight—,” You’re getting tired of being interrupted, but Lilia is quick to clear your schedule.

“No!” The raven-haired woman jumps up from her seat, slapping her hand on the counter forcefully, causing the three of you to jump. “She’s free tonight!” She smiles scaringly wide at Carlos and Lando.

Lilia turns to you and her smile and voice quiets to something genuine, “I will explain to the others about why you could not make it. Isa will understand as long as you remember to keep us both updated, yes?”

You roll your eyes, resigned , “Yes.”

You’re surprised at the tentative happiness growing in the boys’ appearances, “I guess I can do dinner tonight. What’s the plan?”

Phone numbers are exchanged and they agree to pick you up from your house at seven. They linger through their goodbyes, clearly not wanting to end the conversation. It’s flattering that they're willingly exposing their obsession with you so soon. You shoo them away with the reminder of seeing each other tonight and the fact that you are, in fact, on the clock. Lilia slaps you on the arm repeatedly as you watch them exit through the front doors with a dreamy sigh.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Lilia lets out a scream of excitement and pulls you into a hug, the two of you jumping up and down overwhelmed with joy. You’re caught by your boss Marco, who takes one glance before he turns around to head back into his office, forcing the two of you into hysterical giggles. 

You pull back from her, and you can’t quiet the large grin dancing on your lips, “I have no idea what to wear!”

Carlos texted you twenty minutes ago alerting you that they’re on the way to pick you up. Lando added that they can’t wait to see you a minute later. You were ready thirty minutes before they started heading your way. Ten minutes ago you decided to change your entire outfit. You settled on a linen cropped tank and matching maxi skirt with a pair of sandals. You fiddle with your accessories endlessly, and you do the same with a few stray curls that refuse to sit where you want them.

Grabbing your purse and phone, you rush out of your room and down the stairs to find your parents in the kitchen adding the finishing touches to their own dinner.

“¡Mija—qué bonita!” your mom gasps, wiping her hands on a towel before she pulls you closer to look at you, “Where have you been hiding this outfit?” [My daughter, how beautiful she is!]

“Má, I’ve had it for a while,” you subject yourself to her cooing and prodding as she spins you around, looking at your dad for help, who only offers you a shrug, “—I just have not had anywhere to wear it.”

“Hm? Then, what’s so special about tonight? I thought you were clubbing with your friends, no?” You avoid meeting her prying eyes, pretending to find interest in what’s simmering on the stove.

“Eh, why is there a Ferrari outside of my house?” your dad asks, drawing your attention to the front window. The sleek black convertible is parked by the curb, and your phone buzzes in your hands. Lando has informed you of their arrival, and you quickly tell them you’ll be right out to avoid them coming to the door. You don’t know if they’re “meet the parents” caliber yet, Ferrari or not.

“Don’t worry about it, Papà. I’ll text you when I’m on my way back tonight,” you press kisses to both of your parents’ cheeks, “Save some food for me to take to work tomorrow, please?”

Your mom pinches your ear, “Ay! You are going on a date? Finally! Is he handsome on top of being rich? A Ferrari is okay as long as he is as beautiful as the car, you know?”

Your dad makes a noise of complaint as he follows you both towards the door, “A Ferrari is more than okay as long as he respects you and treats you well. And, if he buys me a Ferrari too—ask him for me.” 

You fuss at them, flustered but smug as you ignore your dad’s request, and you turn to smirk at your mom, “Papà, I plan to find outfit they treat me well tonight. Mamá. They’re both gorgeous.”

Your dad blinks in confusion as your mom crows in delight, “¡Mija! I knew I raised you properly! ¡Vas, vas! Have fun and you have to tell me everything when you get back, yes?” [My girl!; Go, go!]

“Sí, Mamá. ¡Muchos besos, te quiero!” You slip out of the door, the sound of your mother explaining that you’ve garnered the interest of two men to your father fading behind you as you walk to the car. [Yes, mom. Kisses, I love you!]

Carlos and Lando are waiting for you on the curb, the engine purring lowly behind them. Your gait slows as you near, and the Spaniard reaches out to press his lips to the back of your hand fleetingly. 

They’ve dressed well; Lando in a light gray, short-sleeved, collared, v-neck that rests untucked over white chinos and a pair of gray sneakers to match. He’s sprinkled with bracelets, a few of them decorate his toned forearms on both wrists, and there’s a singular silver chain peeking from the cut of his shirt. Carlos is dressed similarly with the white chinos, yet he’s chosen a light blue button-up with the first few buttons undone, and a pair of dress shoes. His outfit is complimented by a dazzling watch. 

You murmur a greeting to both men, unable to hold eye contact with either of them for long. It’s one thing to fantasize that you have a chance with men clearly out of your league, and it’s another thing to have to muster up the confidence to speak to them outside of your uniform. 

Lando impatiently shifts on his feet as the older man keeps hold of your hand for longer than necessary. When you’re released, Lando takes it a step further and pulls you into a hug, his body heated and solid against yours. A shiver runs down your spine when his hand rests on the exposed skin of the small of your back. You hum, pleased as you inhale the velvety scent of his cologne, missing the closeness as he pulls away from you a beat later.

You step back, your heart thudding as you quip, “I didn’t know we were on hugging terms already.”

“I’m sorry,” Lando flushes easily, and Carlos chuckles, “I should’ve asked if it was okay.”

“I liked it,” you smile at him, pretending as if your heart isn’t pounding forcefully from the brief embrace, “I-I mean, it was fine, don’t worry.”

The Brit hums at your response, his eyes drifting along your form before meeting yours again with a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips. His blush recedes as yours strengthens, now apparent on your darker skin. 

“Lovely house,” he withdraws, and you’re thankful he avoided commenting on the evident flush he invoked with nothing more than a hug and a pass of his eyes.

“Thank you, my parents bought it and moved here after I started university,” you explain needlessly, “They’re pretty great. They were the ones who made me apply for the position at La Moraleja. So, really, it’s them you have to credit with us meeting, I suppose.”

“We also have to thank them for having a beautiful daughter,” Carlos alleges smoothly.

You fluster, “I-I’ll pass the message along. Both of you are very handsome, but I think you guys hear that often.”.

“Don’t worry. It sounds sweeter coming from you,” Lando edits his point with an impish grin, “—and from Carlos too, sometimes.”

“Don’t be a brat, Lando,” the Spaniard’s voice is light as he entertains the younger, “Unfortunately, I think we will be late if we continue to stand here and flirt in the street,” Carlos says, and his eyes shift to look past you and at your house, “—And, I think your dad might come outside and kill us. Which would not be very pleasant, in my opinion.”

You spin around, chagrined at the sight of your dad watching the three of you with a harsh stare. 

“Yes! Let’s get going, I would hate to be late. Ignore him, please.” Lando waves at your dad anyways, endearing himself to you further, “And, you won’t have to worry about being murdered as long as you get him a Ferrari.”

The two men startle into laughter at that, and you hold your hands up candidly, “What? His words, not mine!”

You didn’t account for the oddness of one of you sitting in the backseat, but Lando assigns himself to the back, claiming that you have “passenger princess” rights. 

The wind ruffles through your curls aimlessly as Carlos drives towards your destination. The ride is filled with endless chatter and flirting. A smile is constantly on your face as the three of you speak through topics easily. There’s not a single time you feel like an outsider, even though it’s clear how familiar they are with each other. 

The restaurant you find yourself in isn’t screaming its extravagance at you, which is surprising. While it’s dimly lit, and you can hear live music thrumming through the air from somewhere deeper inside over the lively chatter—it feels like a classic restaurant, intimate and comfortable. Like somewhere you could go for a nice dinner often.

The hostess straightens upwards with recognition when she spots Carlos and she greets the three of you good naturedly before disappearing to check if your table is ready. 

The Spaniard notices the surprise on your face, “My family and I have dined here since I was young. You have never come here before? ”

You shake your head, “I’m a little jealous, if I’m being honest,” Carlos tilts his head, listening, “I’m mad I didn’t discover this place sooner. The atmosphere is amazing!”

The hostess returns, gesturing for you all to follow after her and Lando grasps your hand to catch your attention as you walk, “If you think the vibe is amazing, just wait until you try the food.”

The table is not in direct sight of anyone besides the kitchen, clearly a spot meant for privacy. Your hidden behind a half wall and a screen overgrown with plants, and the volume of the restaurant seems quieter through the barrier. You lean back in your chair as the three of you wrap up the discussion about yesterday’s conflict.

“I feel incredibly stupid now,” you chuckle, embarrassed. The brown skin of your face burns hot. You focus on the empty wine glass in front of you, avoiding their eyes plainly.

“No,” Carlos’s voice is stern, the serious tone shocking you into looking at him, “Do not be rude to yourself—you are not stupid.”

You stare, dumbfounded, reeling as you process the manner in which he shut down your negative self-talk. If his words totally dissolved your mortification over your immature reaction to seeing them again, you might have thought harder about how that was kind of hot of him to do.

“Aren’t you studying for a PhD?” Lando asks rhetorically, “I think that literally means you’re not stupid.”

You scoff lightly—feeling humored instead of humiliated—at how easily he swept away the tension with a light-hearted comment. The Brit doesn’t know how many people have enlightened you with the knowledge that common sense is, unfortunately, uncommon in post-grad. But, you’ll let his words wash away your self-deprecation lest this turns into an unsolicited therapy session instead of a date an apology dinner.

“Fine. I’m not stupid—but, you can’t deny that it wasn’t a little dumb of me to assume that you guys had lied to me about visiting the golf club every year. And, it was a little more dumb of me to make my decision about working here for another season just because there was a chance that I could see you guys—never mind.” Your teeth clack together forcefully as you slam your mouth shut.

The duo straighten up at the sudden end to your sentence, brains quickly filling in the blanks for them. Lando’s poorly attempting to hide his satisfied smile behind his hand and Carlos’s eyes are bright with understanding. You’ve learned your lesson about making hasty assumptions but you don’t think it’s foolish to deduce this means that they’re actually interested in you too, this time around.

“Ah. Well, we should not have assumed that you knew we were Formula One drivers, which maybe was obvious from how you spoke to us,” Carlos shrugs his shoulders, leveling the blame, “And, I think it’s sweet that you were hoping to run into us again.”

“Mmm,” you hum nervously, “I think it’s delusional.”

One of their shoes knocks against yours underneath the table and you jump in surprise. Carlos’s chest shakes with a silent laugh and his eyebrow raises at you pressingly.

“We should’ve asked for your number last summer,” Lando adds nonchalantly. 

You rattle at his boldness, and you’re given a moment to ponder that as the waiter stops to pour you and Carlos a glass of white wine (Lando refused). You take a brief sip, humming pleasantly at the light and easy flavor, the live music and easy conversation floating through the air providing you a reprieve from your immersion in the two men. 

Your attention is recaptured as you watch Carlos offer Lando a chance to taste from his glass. 

Earlier, the Brit had told you he dislikes the taste of most alcohols when the waiter stepped away to grab the bottle Carlos requested. Yet, Lando accepts, not without making his distaste apparent with an adorable frown. He takes the tiniest sip possible with a look of apprehension and recoils from the glass as he swallows, his nose scrunching in disgust as he shakes his head to further sell his distate. 

Carlos rolls his eyes and laughs, revealing to you how used he is to Lando’s dramatics. He raises a hand to rub at the short hair on the nape of the younger’s neck in comfort.

The look on your face must be cloyingly sweet if the light dust of pink that rises to the Brit’s cheeks when he realizes you’ve watched the entire interaction, is meaningful. Carlos’s eyes become intense when he spots how Lando curls into himself shyly under your eyes. The Spaniard whispers, his volume low enough for only Lando to hear and you wish you knew exactly what was said, because it deepens the tint of his cheeks to a furious red. 

You figure you’ll save him from his torment by bringing up the important stuff.

“So, you only have a month of summer vacation,” you start, fingers fiddling with the edge of a fan-folded napkin, “Which is in August. That’s…so short. My fall semester starts the first week of September.”

Silence falls as they digest the underlying meaning of your sentence. Is it in everyone’s best interest to start something that has to end so soon? Is it in your best interest to risk catching feelings for two athletes (celebrity-athletes, at that) during the last month of your break? 

“A month is a long time,” the younger man starts, his blue-green eyes intent, “We’ll just have to make the most out of it, right? I want to get to know you more, and I have a feeling that the three of us will have a fun time together—If you want to give it a try.”

“A ‘fun time’? Like—like a fling?” Your expression remains indifferent as you ask. You need them to clarify what they want out of this without revealing your emotions. It’s only proper for you to prevent any future miscommunication or misunderstanding about this; you learned from your earlier mistake.

Lando’s earnest gaze has lost some of its shine, and Carlos’s eyes now seem guarded.

“Calling it a fling is harsh,” the Spaniard responds, “It’s more of a summer romance, no?”

Your laugh isn’t genuine, but they don’t know you well enough to discern that, “Alright, I’ll give our ‘summer romance’ a chance. Using a synonym doesn’t change the definition, you know?” 

Lando cocks his head at you, staring deeply. It feels like he’s trying to puzzle you out, and you stare back in feigned confusion.

“It’s nothing,” He relaxes, leaning back in his chair and moving Carlos’s glass out of the way as he sees the waiter nearing the table with your appetizers, “I just find it odd that you called yourself stupid earlier.” You don’t know what to make of that, but it’s forgotten as the starters are devoured and the conversation shifts into them getting to know you and vice versa.

The older man with them at the golf course last year was Carlos’s father, who is a two-time Rally World Champion. You’re surprised to learn that they’ve only been dating for around a year. Lando says he developed a crush on Carlos when they were teammates at Mclaren, but he was afraid of ruining their relationship and potentially, his career, if he confessed–so he kept quiet. Carlos didn’t realize he was romantically interested in Lando until he signed his contract with Ferrari. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” you interrupt, “If you guys have only been together for a year, did you get together before or after you saw me at the golf course for the first time?”

“A year and three months,” the Spaniard corrects with a serene smile, “Our anniversary was in May.”

The Brit continues for him, “—Which means we started dating about three months before we saw you. Give or take a few weeks.”

You gave a low whistle of surprise—three months into their relationship and they were on the same page about chasing after you. Since then, they had several serious conversations about adding a third to their relationship but hadn’t found or looked for anybody they’d consider to try with. Besides you.

Obviously, they like playing golf; Lando is abysmal, and Carlos is not bad at it. Carlos has two sisters, Lando has a brother and two sisters. Both of them are middle children. Lando is a picky eater, and hates fish and seafood. Carlos will eat anything Lando doesn’t. Lando founded a company with his best friend. Carlos is a Real Madrid fanatic. Lando occasionally streams on Twitch. Carlos enjoys surfing and cycling.

“I’m sorry for saying that you guys sucked at golf yesterday,” you apologize sheepishly.

“It’s okay,” the Brit says, unperturbed, “I do suck at golf. I just wasn’t expecting to hear it come from you.”

“I suck less at golf,” the older man states, “But, if I was good, I would not have been in the sand pit in the first place, no?”

They visit Spain often because family is important to Carlos. Lando’s loved like another son by Carlos’s family and Carlos is loved the same by Lando’s family. Lando is needy. Carlos likes being needed. Carlos is mildly possessive. Lando is too self-critical. Carlos makes the best pancakes. Lando wants to build a beautiful vintage car collection.

They want to see you again. You enjoyed dinner more than you thought was possible. 

They defrosted your nerves and allowed your personality to shine through. It helps that they were actively listening as you complained and gushed over your studies, told anecdotes of the shenanigans you and the others got up to on the golf course, and spoke about your future outlooks. They didn’t mind your lack of knowledge about Formula One and explained the sport in detail to you. They were determined to figure out what made you mad, what made you happy, what made you laugh, what made you shy—and, what made you go pink.

It didn’t take them long to discern that staring at your lips is the trick. When they made that discovery, they weaponized it the entire night. While one of them played with the rings on your fingers or tucked a curl behind your ear, the other managed to fluster you by letting their eyes wander for a few seconds before meeting yours again with increasing intensity. You experienced heart failure several times, and had to ask them to repeat themselves more frequently thanks to their psychological warfare.

Your heart feels like it may cease to function again as they walk you to your doorstep. The lights inside the house are off, you returned later than you thought you would. Your parents left the porch light on for you and it casts an amber warmth. Carlos and Lando don’t invite themselves into your space as you dig your house keys out of your purse, ever the polite men. The sound of your keys jingling harmonizes with your triumphant hum as you pull them out. 

You face the boys, placing your hand on the doorknob behind you, waiting for them to speak. 

“Are we forgiven for unintentionally leading you to believe that we led you on and wasted your time?” Lando blurts out.

You knock your head back against the doorframe, abashed, shutting your eyes to dispel the HD playback your brain gifts you with. “If you both agree to never bring it up again, I’ll forgive you.”

“I suddenly do not know what we’re talking about,” Carlos nods seriously, and Lando echoes the sentiment.

You release the doorknob and take the few steps towards them. As you expected, their eyes simultaneously drift to stare at your mouth. You lightly place a hand on Carlos’s shoulder before leaning up and brushing your lips across his cheek in the lightest ghost of a kiss, before moving to Lando and doing the same.

You carefully backpedal to the door turning to insert your key into the lock, before you look back at them. Your heart flutters at the sight of Carlos, who’s frozen, standing all wide-eyed and pressing his fingers to his cheek like he’s unsure if he imagined the kiss. Lando however, looks hungry. His eyes are the darkest you’ve seen tonight, and they’re locked on how you teasingly flick your tongue across your bottom lip.

“While we may only have a month to spend together—it doesn’t mean I’m easy. I, at least!—need a second date before I let you do anything more than stare at my lips and hold my hand. It might take three dates before I even let you kiss my cheek,” you tease with a joking shrug of your shoulders.

“It’s a good thing that you have my phone number,” the lock clicks open, and you push the door open, “If you don’t use it to set up another date, I think I’ll have no choice but to never forgive you guys.”

“We’ll be using it,” Carlos asserts, recovered from the daze you left him in.

“Hm, good. Text me when you get home.” You step in your entryway, waving your fingers at the two of them leisurely, “Buenas noches.” [Goodnight.]

They mimic your goodbye and you shut the door, clicking the lock. You nosily peek through the peephole to spy on their reactions. Carlos tugs Lando into a bear hug, their wide smiles hidden as they press into each other and the sharpest pitch squeal you’ve heard from Lando travels through the front door. You cover your own giggle with a hand as you watch the two of them kiss and almost skip down your driveway back to the car. You press your back to the door with a deep sigh, a lovestruck smile painting your face while you lay limp to let your heartbeat slow to a normal speed.

The hallway light flicks on and you shriek as your mom stares at you with a deranged smile on her lips, “Tell me everything!”

“Mamá! What are you doing up? It’s late!” You exclaim, straightening upwards with your hands on your hips, failing at distracting her from how you were weak in the knees a couple of seconds ago. “It’s okay, mija! I’ll start a fresh pot of coffee for us and you can tell me all about your date!” She rushes forward, grabbing your hand to pull you into the kitchen.

Ironically, the second date ends up being late night mini golf. Even better, you destroy them at it. It wasn’t an easy feat, they made plenty of attempts to sabotage and distract you; whether it was yelling, spooking, poking, or prodding at you as you readied your putt, but it wasn’t enough to give them a chance of catching up. 

You figure more of your mistakes were from being unable to stop laughing as the two performed atrociously. Carlos ended up polluting every water feature with golf balls and Lando couldn’t manage to finish a single hole in under 8 strokes—the highest par was 6. You patted Lando on the back consolingly, telling him to find comfort in the fact that they’re equally terrible at putt-putt golf.

The two seemed surprised at your finesse with a club, almost like they’d forgotten you work on a golf course. You may not be a caddy, but you’ve had plenty of time to work on perfecting your technique. You did well enough to place sixth on the leaderboard, the employees said that Carlos’ score might be the worst they’ve ever seen.

With their egos severely bruised, you convinced them to soothe the loss over with ice cream at a neighboring parlor. Lando was satisfied with plain vanilla and Carlos with a scoop of dulce de leche. You elected for cookies and cream, but found yourself being fed their flavors as well. 

The sugary treats were delicious. Watching them stare at your lips pursed around a spoonful of ice cream was far more delectable. Lando broke the fourth time you managed to dot a bit of vanilla above your upper lip. He choked on a whine before leaning into your space. He hesitated a hair’s width away from your lips, his shuddering exhales mixing with yours, his eyes searching for approval. Your eyes fluttered shut and Lando closed the gap. 

His lips were soft and chilled, a result of the ice cream. Warmth blossomed in your chest as you leaned into the kiss, the taste of vanilla lingering in the embrace. His hand raised to cradle your cheek as your lips brushed together languidly, the sound of your heart racing within your chest fading out as you become absorbed by the kiss. 

Lando pulls away, falling back into his seat with his chest heaving. You stare after him with wide eyes, jolting out of it when you notice you’ve dropped your spoon into your lap, Carlos’s dulce de leche ice cream spilling onto your thigh. 

“Do I get to lick this off your thigh since Lando got to kiss it off your lips?” Carlos asks, his tone half genuine, half facetious.

You kick at his ankle underneath the booth and he throws his hands up placatingly. 

“Wait–,” you anxiously flit your eyes around the parlor, “—you shouldn’t have kissed me here Lando. Out in public? Aren’t people going to recognize—”

“We’ve been the only people in here for the past thirty minutes or so,” Lando interrupts, gathering the near-empty dishes and balled-up napkins, “They’ve also been closed for twenty minutes. When you went to the bathroom when we came in, Carlos and I signed something for the owner who was more than happy to keep things quiet for his second favorite Spanish Formula One driver.”

“Second favorite?” Carlos furrows his eyebrows at his boyfriend, his umber eyes adorably confused.

“Mate,” the Brit scoffs, “I might be in love with you ‘n all but we're not going to act like Fernando isn’t the best thing that came out of Spain, besides churros.”

The unfavored Spaniard holds his hand to his chest in betrayal before his eyes narrow and he moves to assault Lando with a pinch to his chest. While you’d love to continue watching this disguised act of foreplay, you would rather be a participant than a voyeur.

“¡Cabrónes!” The two freeze, heads snapping to look at you as your voice cuts through the catfight.

“I think the owner would be even happier if you licked the ice cream off my thigh outside of his parlor so he could finally lock up, sí?”

How Lando kisses with a desperate hunger, Carlos kisses with a ravaging heat. Like he wants to roast your nerve endings with every brush of his lips against yours.

The fiery press of his mouth stokes the arousal building in your navel. His hand tangles in your hair as he directs the tilt of your head. A stuttered whimper slips from your mouth into his as your tongues glide together, a buzzing sensation tingling down your spine as his other hand squeezes your waist tightly.

He walks you backward towards the bed, his lips devouring yours as you wrap your arms around his neck, attempting to pull your bodies even closer than they are. You stumble, gasping when his hand palms your ass and it’s the first time your lips have separated since Carlos claimed them in the hallway.  He tumbles into you as his feet stumble around yours, the darkness of the bedroom not bettering the situation. He nearly sends you both to the floor instead of the plush mattress if not for Lando catching your body and a hand firmly pressed to Carlos’s chest to hold him upright, expletives falling from your mouths until balance is restored.

You rest your forehead on the older man’s collarbone as you abruptly giggle at being so kiss drunk you forgot how to backpedal. The two drivers have no choice but to laugh at the sound of your amusement, Lando cackling and Carlos’s chest shaking with his laughter. 

“I’m not against fucking on the floor,” Lando voices, the sound of his grin loud enough for you to visualize, “But—can we at least have our first time with you on this extremely comfortable bed?”

“First time?” You raise a brow jokingly, nonchalantly pulling your shirt over your head and letting it fall to the floor, “That implies you’re thinking there’s gonna be a second.”

The Spaniard steps away to click the nightstand lamp on, the room partially bathed in warm yellow light. Your eyes adjust seamlessly to the low lighting, allowing you to revel in the sight of him appreciating your exposed skin, even when covered with a plain black bra—you’ve never been more thankful to be wearing a matching pair of panties.

The younger man unclasps the latch of the garment, dragging the straps down your arms, goosebumps rising in the wake of his fingertips, and the bra lands atop your shirt. You feel his breath cascade heatedly along your left shoulder before his lips purse delicately against the brown skin. 

He nips closer to the crook of your neck, lowly murmuring, “I know we’ll be having you for more than a third time.”

Surely feeling left out, Carlos unzips your skirt, tugging it down your hips and offering a hand for you to hold as you step free of it, “Many more times. But for tonight,” the older man pauses, toying with the band of your panties, looking at you with a smirk, “We must settle on saving the floor for round two. After we have caused you to ruin the sheets.”

Internally, you scream in elation. Two men eager to fuck you stupid, for the rest of your summer—you pray they’re not bluffing. You can’t remember the last time you’ve had sex good enough for a repeat performance. Externally, you shimmy out of your panties and tug at the hem of Carlos’ button-up once you’re bare. 

“If you want me to ruin your sheets, I’m pretty sure that requires you both to be less clothed.”

Lando’s free of everything but his briefs in a handful of seconds while Carlos struggles to unbutton his shirt. The younger pulls you into bed, guiding you to lay on your back as he holds himself over you, dipping to kiss you messily, unafraid to let his moans knit with yours. By the time the older man has lost his clothes and joined the two of you on the bed, the Brit’s focus has traveled down the length of your neck to your chest. Reddened marks bloom on your bronzed skin, mottled across your decolletage in a pattern only known as desire. 

He laves his tongue against a pebbled nipple, his teeth scraping the sensitive bud, delighting in the way your body arches upwards into his mouth. Your hand pulls tightly at brunette curls, his resulting whimper at the burn of his scalp muffled around your breast, his eyes screwing shut. You loosen your grasp, unable to determine if that was a positive reaction and you’re pleased to see his eyes fly open, his gaze demanding more. His large hand envelopes your wrist, attempting to have you further mess up his hair, but the motion is halted when Carlos cocks Lando’s head backward with an unrelenting fist. 

The younger man shudders, his eyes rolling at the rough treatment. He rises to lessen the pressure of his boyfriend’s grasp, settling into a kneel between your legs with Carlos pressed to his back. The burn of his scalp subsides when the hold weakens, the tension leaving the younger man in a breath and his head droops back on a broad shoulder.

The Spaniard captivates your attention as he presses a kiss to Lando’s jaw, moving the same hand that was in his boyfriend’s hair to splay against his abdomen, a finger dipping to poke at his bellybutton, causing Lando to jolt with a whine. Carlos coos, calming the man with a rub of hand along his torso.  

“Don’t let him fool you. He likes a bit of pain,” Carlos tweaks Lando’s nipple demonstratively, letting the sight of the younger man’s arousal jumping underneath his briefs accompanied by a strangled moan speak for itself. “He’s a brat, even if he likes to pretend otherwise. A little sting is enough to remind him how to act…most times. Right, Landito?”

The man moves to hide his face in Carlos’s neck as if it’ll hide the sight of him nodding in confirmation. It doesn’t help that the meek “yes” he breathes into the muscle isn’t muffled at all.

“And because he wants to be good,” Carlos continues, pulling at Lando’s waistband and releasing it to snap against flushed, pink skin, “He’s going to keep himself busy with you while I see if I can still taste the dulce on your thigh. Is that okay with you?”

You gulp, anticipatory. “M-more than okay.”

The younger man's eyes are all pupil, ringed with stormy-colored irises as he’s lowered by your side. You were contemplating teasing him about his brat complex—but the haze of his eyes causes you to reconsider.

The gap of his teeth remains adorable even as he bites his lips, the plush skin reddened and raw from where he’s already scraped the skin off. Prolonged eye contact from him seems impossible—his gaze flits away from yours after a handful of seconds. He struggles to decide where to look, happening upon your lips, zoning out with a yearning pout. Lando is clueless to the effect of his fixation; he reignites the redness on your cheeks and the skipping of your heartbeat.

Frightened by Carlos’s spit-slicked lips brushing along the bone of your ankle, you twitch, breaking Lando’s trance. 

The Brit’s blush deepens when he notices you’ve been watching him stare without saying a word. He muffles a mortified whimper into a pillow, smushing his face so deeply into the fabric you worry he may strangle himself. You glance at Carlos for assistance and the man only nods in the younger’s direction, continuing to drag his mouth up your legs, pausing to suckle the skin of your thighs and smirking when he feels the muscles flex underneath his lips.

“Lando, chico,” you croon, petting a hand through the curls at the crown of his head, “Look at me.”

He peeks an eye at you shyly, turning to face you fully, reassured at the enamored look you cover him with.

“Besamé,” you murmur, knowing it’s something Lando’s heard plenty of times from the man nestled between your legs. [Kiss me.] 

The younger understood, rushing to press his lips to yours filthly. The frantic energy is winsome, your chest tightening at the sounds of him whining and mewling needily into your mouth. He licks into your mouth insistently, his attention devoted to tasting the remaining sweetness of ice cream on your tongue. From below, Carlos hums as his tongue polishes off the remaining stickiness on your bronzed skin.

The sounds they rip from you are muffled by the younger man, but the grunt of annoyance Carlos makes as the lingering dulce de leche flavoring of your thigh disappears is clear. He drags his tongue against your labia in one firm stroke, your abdomen undulating at the unexpected attention to your cunt. He smacks his lips, savoring, before a moan rumbles through his chest.

“Better than the ice cream,” he announces, the brown of his iris darkened with greed. 

Lando frees your lips to look at his boyfriend pleadingly, and you take the time to breathe. He left you lightheaded as he kissed every ounce of oxygen from your lungs.

“ ‘wanna taste, ” Lando begs, and Carlos pulls up to meld their lips together, and you're briefly hypnotized by the muscles of his arms contracting through the movement.

The most reedy whine escapes the curly-haired man as Carlos shares the taste of your arousal with him. Your head is filled with the sound of blood rushing through your ears, buffering at the sight of the two men feasting on your essence—what were you thinking when you agreed to be a summer romance? You’re never going to be able to recover from this, and they haven’t even fucked you yet.

They separate, Lando’s chest heaving as he licks along his lips in search of any faint traces of your taste. Carlos resituates himself between your thighs, his voice carrying a firm edge, “Wait your turn, cariño. Keep being good for me—for us, yes?”

The younger man seems small as he nods, appearing a little empty-headed at the command, but he obeys. Turning back to peck your lips sweetly, Lando trails downward to leave a few marks of his own along the column of your neck.

You grab his jaw lightly, “No marks—,” the light in his eyes dulls slightly, “—that high up.” He brightens and lowers his mouth to your collarbone, nipping at your skin, energized by your nails scratching along his scalp.

Your mouth parts in a silent gasp as Carlos joins in. He laps between your folds sloppily, his nose knocking your clit with every bob pf his head. The hand that isn’t buried in brunette curls fists in Carlos’s locks of hair, holding him steady while he prods at your entrance with the tip of his tongue.

Your brain buzzes, toes curling as the older man eats you out, the sounds of him enjoying his meal reverberating through the air, harmonizing with your cries and Lando’s snuffles as he toys with your nipples.

Carlos presses a finger inside, thrusting shallowly against your fluttering walls and his mouth purses around your bud, the suckle of his lips puppeteering your spine into arching and your hips into bucking. His stubble scratches your thighs, the scrape searing but adding to your gratification.

He curls upwards, dragging roughly through the clenching of your cunt, adding a second finger that your walls swallow voraciously. The ache of the stretch is calmed quickly by the ample leaking of your arousal and the constant attention of a tongue on your clit as Carlos steadfastly hunts for your sweet spot.

Your mewls are ragged, forced from your lungs with every press of his fingers. Your eyes flutter as pleasure singes your skin, you find the strength to hold them open as you lock gazes with the man between your legs. His eyes are characteristically wide, but they scream his commitment to making you scream.

There’s no fighting. Your head falls back when his fingers graze near that pleasure point and your eyes screw shut when he perfects the angle and massages your sweet spot with his fingertips. 

A shrill shriek leaves your lips as the penetration becomes unrelenting. He constantly presses on the button that has your thighs tightening around his head, but the temptation of taking his final breath between your legs has him doubling down, suckling at your clit forcefully as he prods a third finger inside of you.

Lando chokes, crying out loudly as your hand yanks at his curls, his hips jumping to grind along your hip, his briefs damp from where he’s been leaking. Carlos’s laugh as he watches his boyfriend desperately hump in search of friction, vibrates around your swollen bud, forcing out a squeal nearly loud enough to drown out the sound of your slick squelching around his fingers.

Abruptly, he pulls away. His digits slip from your walls, your entrance left to pucker hungrily around air. Carlos’s stare is loud as he fights the urge to press inside of you again.

The lack of stimulation is maddening. You free your hold on Lando, and he collapses onto you, body pinning yours to the bed—his weight steadying as you restrain your anger at the sudden halt.

You blink deliriously at the sight of Carlos tearing a condom wrapper open with his teeth. The slowing rhythm of your heart speeds up as you revel at the image of his hand rolling the condom down his hardened length, flushed and throbbing with arousal. 

It’s daunting. It’s been a long time since you’ve last had sex. At some point, you decided to prioritize protecting your peace rather than dealing with men who aren’t going to do anything other than ruin your PH and fail to make you cum. It doesn’t help that Carlos is well-endowed; you need to come to terms that you’re going to have a limp after this.

Lando sits upwards to watch his boyfriend drag his length through your folds, moaning in unison with you as Carlos’s tip brushes along your pulsing clit. The Spaniard grunts at the heated slide before resting at the gape of your entrance, but he looks up to you for your go ahead. 

“I-it’s been a while,” you admit tensely, covering your eyes with the back of your hand as anxiety builds in your navel.

“How long is ‘a while?’” Carlos asks, without a single hint of judgment. Lando pulls your hand off your face tenderly, revealing their compassionate expressions.

“You remember how I joked about not kissing you guys until a second date?” You toy with Lando’s fingers distractedly, and they confirm their recollection, “Well—there hasn’t been anybody that’s made it past a second date in a long time.”

“Carlos is gentle,” Lando reassures you, halting your play with his fingers to hold your hand comfortingly, “I promise. And he listens very well, and pays attention, and goes at your pace. If he doesn’t, I’ll beat his ass.”

You giggle at that, your nerves fading as Carlos yelps at the threat. This exact kind of behavior is the kind you can see yourself falling in love with.

“Ay! Yes—Lando has permission to knock some sense into me if I hurt you,” Carlos jokes, pausing momentarily before his tone becomes hopeful, “And, we would really like to be the ones who make it to a third date—I’ll follow your pace, I swear.”

The knot in your stomach tightens for another reason besides arousal.

“I believe you,” you murmur, relaxing back into the bed, raising your’s and Lando’s joined hands to press a kiss to his wrist. Lando hums sweetly at you, laying at your side again, his free hand cradling your waist, thumb brushing calmingly on your rich brown skin. 

Carlos breaches you softly—gently, as Lando said he would. The three fingers he stretched you with was a safe play. If it were only two, you would be feeling a sharp pain instead of an ache. The burn is delicious, your inhale stutters as the head of his cock pops into you.

“Joder,” Carlos curses, his jaw clenched tightly, his grip tight on your thighs, as he inches deeper. His eyes trace your complexion attentively for any sign that it’s too much. “Relax, mi corázon—let me in.”

The sweet endearment encourages you to pant through a tiny whimper. Lando’s hand pets along your navel as he sweeps a kiss across your brow bone.

“‘s big isn’t he?” He murmurs, voice breathy, “Fuck—it’s gonna be worth it when he’s all the way inside you, yeah? Stretching you out just right, touching spots you didn’t know existed. It hurts a little, I know, love. But, it hurts so good, doesn’t it? I don’t know how that fits inside me every time I take it, but it’s worth it.”

You whimper fitfully—you want to watch Carlos make him take it.

The discomfort twisting your brows lightens slightly, and Carlos pulls out before he sinks another inch in. The shallow stroke sends an appealing rush of sharp pleasure skittering up your spine and it pools at the back of your head.

A real moan is forced from your chest, and your eyes open to see Lando tucking a curl behind your ear, smiling knowingly.

“Yeah, that felt good didn’t it, baby?” You can’t solely credit the burst of pleasure behind your eyes to Carlos’s barely there thrusts as he works deeper. The praise and pet names Lando seems keen to utilize should be accounted for as well. The Brit presses down on your navel with an astoundingly large palm.

His lips graze your ear as he whispers, “Don’t you wanna feel him here? All deep inside of you?” He pauses briefly, letting your imagination work before continuing. “I feel him there when he fucks me. Like he’s making room for himself, yeah? Gonna open up for him? For me? Gonna let yourself feel good, sunshine?”

Carlos’s hips meet the backs of your thighs as he bottoms out.

Choked gasps leave you and Carlos. Your skin alight, your pores flaring raw. His calloused hands rub over your hips and thighs, one settling where Lando’s was previously holding at your waist and the other amply squeezing the curve of your ass.

Behind your closed eyes, you see the white flare of heat zinging through every nerve ending, your body overstimulated at receiving pleasure in the highest, unfiltered form. Lando was right—it feels like he made room for himself. The weight of him is searing, your walls fluttering frantically as they adjust.

Your most conscious thought is realizing why orgasms are referred to as “little deaths.” Because, if him fucking into you for the first time is this good? Cumming around him has to feel akin to ascending to heaven.

The younger man turns your head towards him with a gentle nudge of your cheek. His eyes peer into you searchingly. You don’t know what he’s trying to find. You’re more concerned with coaxing him into another kiss.

You raise up with an unsteady arm, toppling forward to press your lips to his, but you miss and land near the corner of his mouth. At your disappointed grown, Lando moves to kiss you chastely, before he looks at Carlos.

The older man’s eyes are silken as they dance between you and his boyfriend. It takes Lando tugging him forward with a hand on his bicep for him to understand that you’re pining for a kiss from him as well.

The Spaniard catches the strangled mewl you make with his lips, the change in angle as he hovers over you amplifying the pressure of him within you tenfold. Delicately, he leads the dance of tongues, using the lip lock to distract you from the barely there roll of his hips.

It works, the nervous tension that had gathered in your core unraveling completely at the sensual rock. The grinds remain tender as he gradually works you up to weightier strokes and a quicker rhythm.

Your lips uncouple when your head lulls backwards, a drawn-out purr rolling underneath your chest. With your knees bending to cradle Carlos’s hips, you cast lidded eyes to the Spaniard, bathing underneath his appreciative gaze and the blissful twist to his brows as he rolls into you.

“Carlitos, fóllame,” you murmur, watching his eyes widen in surprise, “I said it’s been a long time, not that I’m going to break.” [Fuck me.]

Lando grins beside you, quieting his laughter by pressing his face into your hair. The older man flusters, a red flush spreading across his chest, and he reminds you that he’d promised to be gentle.

His dedication to his word is attractive and you’re thankful he followed through. You tell him as such, but not without another teasing jab, “Thank you for being gentle. However, I think continuing to be gentle when I ask for more might decrease your chances at a third date.”

Lando jerks upwards to gape at the two of you, frazzled, “That’s not even funny! Babe—do better!”

The brown-eyed man doesn’t entertain either of you with a verbal response.

A bitten-off shout is punched from your chest as his hips slam into you with vigor, your vision crossing as the older man settles into a hard pace. His cock threatens to slip out of you with every stroke out and your body jolts with every ruthless thrust inside, the maddening force turning your mind syrupy with arousal and lightning-hot pleasure.

Endless praise is voiced by Carlos between every rough grunting pant he releases. Your brain is filled with seductive words; bien chica, so tight, you sound so pretty, you can take it. 

You can only hope he hears your gratitude through your repeated moans. You dig your nails into his muscled back as he grazes your sweet spot every couple of thrusts. The sharp pain only has Carlos’s hips stuttering for a moment. He growls, his grip turns bruising as he fucks into you with abandon. Your lungs burn and your legs shake. You squirm beneath him fruitlessly, attempting to buck away from the overwhelming grind, but you're pinned underneath his body weight. Your escape attempt is noticed by both men.

Lando tuts, pressing you down into the mattress with an arm around your waist to prevent any future attempt of you shifting. “Don’t run from it, sunshine.”

Carlos laughs sardonically, and you squeal as shame crawls along your synapses at the noise. He changes the angle of his thrusts to bully that spongy spot inside of you relentlessly, “It’s not too much, no? I thought you said you didn’t want me to be gentle?”

Your body curls in distress, mouth-parted wide at the excruciating attention paid to your most nirvanic point . You try to squeeze your walls tighter around him, to afflict a hint of the unbearable pleasure he’s wreaked upon you. Your shocked to discover that he’s fucked you open so well that your cunt can’t do much more than take what he gives you.

Your wetness squelches with his motions, a thin layer of sweat accumulates on your skin and steams the air around you. The scent of sex and aftertaste of ice cream permeates your mind as your orgasm peaks. 

It bursts through you, the intensity slamming through you like a train. Your body falls limp as the pleasure overrides your control, the unrestrained screams of their names are piercing as the waves brutally crash over you. 

Carlos slams his lips to yours, your teeth clacking together painfully and you can only pant into his mouth as he messily kisses you through your orgasm and steamrolls into his own with his strongest pounding thrusts.

Spanish curses are hidden by your mouth as he lays into you, like he’s not quite done molding you to his shape. He fucks you both through it, the vigor of his grinds wearing as the spurts of his spend slows within the condom. 

His arms buckle, pushing an umphf from your chest as he falls onto you. The heaviness is grounding and you wrap your arms around him, shuddering through the aftershocks.

Lando shifts needily at your side, but doesn’t speak. He pulls the arm on your waist from underneath his Carlos’s torso and drags a finger along the reddened scores your nails carved into his boyfriend’s back, with a look in your eyes you can’t place. Is it envy? Quietly, you contemplate the ache you feel between your legs. 

“Get naked, cariño,” you rasp, finding a second wind at the younger man doing as you asked, “It wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t get a turn, too.”

Carlos nuzzles deeper into the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, his lips and eyelashes tickling your cooling skin. He misses the sight of his boyfriend wildly flinging his briefs to an unknown corner of the bedroom.

Sitting on his haunches, the Brit’s reaches to grab his cock. It’s leaking and (concerningly) redder than the skin of his cheeks from the lack of attention paid to it. He yanks his hand back as if slapped, and digs his nails into the meat of his thighs.

Oh, you think, is it too much for him or is he not supposed to touch?

You reach to close your palm around his poor, dripping length, only managing a single, loose stroke when a pained hiss is ripped from Lando’s teeth. His hips jerk back, freeing himself from barely there hold of your hand. The toned muscles of his abdomen jump as his cock flares and a stream of precum dribbles from his swollen tip.

“Fu-uck,” he shakes, “— ‘can’t. Too sensitive, ‘ll cum.”

The green and blue pools of his eyes are wet with moisture, and his chest—dotted with moles and patches of flushed skin—trembles with every inhale. The man laying on your chest shifts to trail his eyes over Lando’s form. The corner of his lips tilts into a smirk as his boyfriend attempts to hide his arousal behind a hand.

“Sol,” Carlos says to you as his eyes remain piercing into the Brit, “You should ride him—if you are able to, of course.” [Sunshine/Sun]

“Uhh…” you stutter, your attention bouncing between the two as you refrain from answering. 

The numbness settling within your cunt can be ignored if it means you get to have the younger man underneath you. Except, it looks like he’s about to cry, and you don’t want to pressure him into agreeing with your answer if he honestly can’t handle it. The teary-eyed man whimpers thinly, splaying himself on his back next to you, looking past you to meet Carlos’s eyes meekly, his voice tiny as he responds, “—won’t last.”

The Spaniard pulls out of you slowly, murmuring apologies and kissing your cheekbone when your brow twinges in discomfort. He helps you straddle the younger man’s hips, careful to support you as your legs haven’t stopped quivering.

His hand drifts between your pelvises, dragging a nail along the underside of Lando’s cock and you can’t deny the buzz of electricity that sings in your gut at the younger man’s wounded cry. The tears spill over his waterline, though he’s squeezed his eyes shut to try to stop them from falling. Carlos tuts at the man patronizingly.

“Too much, Landito?” Carlos pouts at him, “It is fine if you cannot take it. If you don’t want to cum tonight that’s—“

Lando’s eyelids spring open, looking at Carlos desperately as he babbles, “No,no,no,no—‘wanna cum. Please, ‘los.”

The seconds Carlos spends rolling protection over Lando’s cock are filled with choked gasps as the younger man cries, overwhelmed at the lightest touch of fingertips. You lower around his cock smoothly, walls clenching around him greedily, vision tunneling on the soundless bliss of his expression when your ass meets his skin.

You hum at the fullness, your mind settling at how right it feels. The first circle of your hips has Lando’s hands clawing at your hips, adding his own marks on your skin to compliment his boyfriend’s. He wriggles, overwhelmed, but bucks to meet your rolling body regardless.

He’s flushed from head to waist, fresh tears painting tracks of salt down his face before they drip off his jawline to splash on the bed sheets. Your pace remains tantric, and you don’t move more than an inch upwards to avoid testing his limits. The suckling, hot, drag is more than enough for him, if the pulsing of his cock is any telling. Your own sensitivity begins to bite at the base of your spine, your brain exhausted at the feeling of Lando pressing into the rawness that Carlos carved out.

The Spaniard must notice the way the two of you are tiring of chasing euphoria. Lando’s grinds weaken as the precipice of ecstasy is dangled in front of him, hoarse sobs racking through him as he fails to reach it on his own. Carlos splays his hand across Lando’s throat. The Brit’s whimpers pleadingly, and his mouth parts roundly as his boyfriend applies a light pressure to the sides of his neck. 

Lando shakes apart underneath you with uneven thrusts, his helpless gasps echoing through the room as you continue the grind of your hips to coax him through the bliss of release. He bodily restricts your movements when you edge him towards too-much, pulling you off of him with a single hand underneath your thigh. 

Your knees buckle, pitching over to lie face down next to the British man, who mewls sharply as Carlos pulls the soiled condom off. The heat of the Spaniard disappears, the sheets ruffling as he leaves the bed, causing Lando to make a noise of confusion.

“Water, mi amor,” Carlos chuckles, and you’re happy your face is hidden as you can’t contain your expression of envy at the endearment. He maneuvers Lando’s arms to curl around you, “I am getting us water. I will be quick.”

The younger man, as fucked-out as he is, uses a surprising amount of force to pull you into his chest as he buries his nose in your frazzled nest of hair. He uses his other hand to pull your leg around his hip and hums happily when your bodies press together without an ounce of space to spare. He squeezes you tightly, your dejected frown disappearing as you bask in his embrace, uncaring of the layer of sweat pooling on your cooling skin and the stickiness of your thighs.

There’s three cups with straws in Carlos’s hands as he rejoins the two of you on the bed. He sets one on the nightstand and holds the other two while you and Lando untangle your limbs. Once Carlos is satisfied by the slow sips you two take, he slinks into the bathroom and returns with a warm, soaked cloth to wipe the grime from everyone’s bodies. 

He’s careful about the press of the rag, paying attention to every muscle that tenses in sensitivity and tries to do the job as painless as possible. He nods in content once finished, scooping his glass up to rehydrate himself as well.

Lando bites at the metal straw, the gap of his teeth ridiculously cute even as his eyes brighten with mischief, “So…five minutes and we go again?”

“¡Que te jodan!” You cast a look of disbelief at him, “Lando you just cried through an entire orgasm and you want to go again? Already?” [Fuck you!]

The Brit shrugs loftily, slurping through the last bit of water in his cup and toothily smiling as he blinks at you in feigned innocence. His softened length twitches to attention, and you rest your head in your hand, shutting your eyes briefly for strength.

“Oh, what the hell,” you mumble, before clearing your throat, speaking louder, “I need like 15 minutes—or, until I can feel my legs again. Whichever comes first.”

Carlos collects the empty cup from Lando and sets it on the nightstand with his own. “Would you like to watch him fall apart around me while you wait?”

You choke on the sip of water in your mouth, coughing desperately to clear your throat as your eyes water from the burn. The worried look in the Spaniard’s eyes has an amused tinge to it, even as he pats you on the back in aid—you have a feeling he timed his question with your swallow on purpose.

“That’s a stupid question,” you croak, strangled, “Of course, I want to watch.”

You snuffle against a warmed patch of skin annoyed. The heat of sunlight paints your face golden, and you shift to burrow further into the warmth of limbs around you to drowsily slip back into sleep. You find yourself nodding off, but your ears become alert to the sounds of birds calling and chirping outside. 

Your body reacts before your brain as you fly upwards into a seated position. Shit! You have to go to work!

A pained whimper is exhaled as your lower body aches, sore from last night’s activities. The tangle of tanned arms fall limply around your waist at your change in position, the snores of the two men beside you uninterrupted. You carefully pry their arms away, and slip from the bed, digging through the pile of clothes on the floor, grinding your teeth at the numbness of your legs underneath you.

You dress yourself quickly, closing your eyes in thanks for Carlos forcing you into the shower before you passed out. Hopping across the bedroom to tug your skirt up, you stumble into the bathroom to examine the state you're in, pulling your shirt over your head all the while. 

Your curls are a mess, but that can be fixed at work. Lando respected your wishes of keeping his marks below the collar, but you can spot a few of the bruises on your thighs that their fingertips left. 

You curse briefly, unsure if you have a skirt long enough that would hide the mottled skin before remembering that you have a pair of biker shorts that you can slide on underneath that will get the job done. Pressing a thumb into the shape of Carlos’s thumb, you shiver at the glance of pain that sparks up your spine, swallowing tightly as you recall how it was left there.

With a shake of your head to expel the unseemly thoughts, you turn the faucet on to splash water on  your face. You need to call an Uber to get to work. Rushing out of the en-suite, you frantically search for your phone, trying to remain silent to avoid waking up the boys tucked in that ridiculously plush mattress.

“¿Qué estas buscando?” You screech frightfully at the rough timber of Carlos’ voice, spinning around to look at him. [What are you looking for?]

He’s preciously ruffled; his hair sticks up wildly, the comforter draped around his waist as he leans upwards, the planes of his tanned skin sharp in the morning hours, his eyes squinted in your direction under the brightness of the room—the curtains are wide open. 

Did you have sex—illuminated with a single lamp—with the curtains wide open? That’s a problem to fixate over later, you need your phone.

“Have you seen my phone? I can’t find it,” you straighten your shirt, your volume quieting near the end of your sentence as Lando shifts in the bed with a displeased pout that softens when he settles.

“I plugged it in here for you,” Carlos whispers, rolling to take it off the charger, flashing the marks your nails etched into his back. 

He lifts himself out of bed with a rough groan, your mouth drying as you watch him walk to you, clad in a pair of boxers that leave little (it’s not little at all, actually) to the imagination. Carlos’s hand cushions your cheek as he brushes his lips on yours softly, the delicate rhythm washing away your concerns about being late. 

Your lips break apart with a soft pop and he laughs at the discontented sigh you exhale, offering a languid press of lips to your forehead in apology. You reluctantly take the phone from his hand, your eyes bugging out as you realize that you needed to leave five minutes ago to have plenty of time to fix your appearance before you clock in.

“¡Puta madre!” you exclaim, “I’m fucked. I’m going to be so late ‘cause I have to wait for an car.”

“ —Wait for a car?” Carlos’s eyebrows twist in confusion, scratching at his stubble, “Where are you going? You are not staying?”

You throw him a soft look, turning away to figure out where your socks disappeared to, “I’m late for work, Carlitos. I can’t stay—even though I really want to.”

Carlos ah’s in understanding, assisting you in the search for your socks, his voice still croaky with disuse as he talks, “I can drive you? We are only twenty minutes away if you follow the road laws.”

You huff a laugh at his insinuation, tugging your socks on and patting at his arm softly, before gesturing to Lando in the bed, “You don’t have to. I don’t want to inconvenience you, you should be in bed with him. It’s my fault for not having my alarm properly set.”

Carlos shakes his head, rooting through his dresser for a pair of sweatpants that he pulls on, “You are not inconveniencing me. It would be rude if I let you be late to work after last night. I’m not that kind of man. Neither of us are.”

You give in as you watch him pull a plain white tee over his head—he’s too sweet for a fleeting romance. He ambles over to Lando, brushing the unruly curls off his forehead and pressing a kiss to his temple. He tucks the blankets around his boyfriend and a lick of jealousy blooms in your subconscious before you pluck it. 

Carlos grabs his own phone off another charger and stands, speaking to you warmly, “Your shoes and purse are downstairs, yes? There’s some protein bars in the kitchen pantry, grab as many as you want. I should have treated you to a proper breakfast but you do not have the time. I’m going to use the bathroom quickly, if that’s okay?”

You nod, and Carlos quietly shuts the bathroom door behind him. You breathe deeply at the situation you’ve found yourself in, and you scramble to send a quick text to the group chat telling them to cover for you and promising to cover a shift for anybody who does in the future. 

Your phone buzzes almost instantly after with an influx of messages and you click the screen off. They’re probably freaking out at the uncharacteristic vagueness of your whereabouts, but you put off responding to press your own kiss to Lando’s temple before heading downstairs, tenderly stepping to minimize the unsteadiness of your walk.

You appreciate the decor you didn’t get to see last night, the vacation home vibes blatant as you walk through; a modern twist of Spanish style decor. There’s even a fireplace you spot on your way past a sitting room.

You lace up your sneakers, grabbing your purse from the console table in the entryway before searching for the kitchen to grab a protein bar to hold you over until your lunch break. The kitchen is artful, modern in the sense of the new appliances but the colors and details of the tiled walls, clutter, and cabinets gives it a soul. It feels lived in.

You dryly swallow an ibuprofen—you always carry a few in your purse—hoping it will relieve your soreness before work. You open the pantry door, finding an assortment of protein bars and taking your time to read the labels as you hear a door open which means Carlos is heading down. You grab two bars that fit your taste and softly shut the door, unwrapping one to take a bite of now.

“Ah, I knew I would see you again,” Carlos Sr. smiles at you from the kitchen entry, chuckling at the way you jump and nearly drop the bars in your hands, “I will not lie to you, I thought it would be at the golf club and not here.”

Your lips part and seal as you search for a polite answer, but he continues speaking.

“Let me tell you a secret,” he clasps his hands delightfully, “Did my son tell you that he’s been asking me about you every time I am on the course? Papá, did you see her? Papá, when are you going back to Madrid? Aye, they’re smitten over you, mija?”

“¿En serio?” you relax at his mellow tone, enlightened by the new information. [Really?]

“¡Sí!” The older man exclaims, passing by you to start a pot of coffee, “To be honest, I thought you were out of their league last summer,” you laugh, knowing it’s definitely the other way around, “—Honestly!” He insists, turning to face you as the coffee starts to drip.

“I mean, you are in university, getting a further degree,” he shakes his head in respect of your commitment, “Those two just drive in circles for a living! I couldn’t even convince my son to drive rally like I did, ese cabrón.” [That bastard.]

You laugh a little harder at the jab on his own son, muffling it behind a hand, and he continues, “—And, when they told me they did not get your number! Ay! I was so mad at them. I told them to drop everything and go after you, but by the time they made their way up there you were already gone.”

You feel like shit about your outburst on the green. Your expression shutters, and he pats at your shoulder in comfort, “Oh. I-I didn’t know—“

“How could you?” He hums in question, “It is not your fault, if that’s what you are—“

“Mi sol, have you seen my wallet—” Carlos Jr. steps into the kitchen, words cutting off as he balks at the sight of his father, and he shouts, “Papá! ¿Qué hace aquí?” [My sunshine; Dad! What are you doing here?]

“¿Qué estoy haciendo en la casa que compré?” His dad fires back, amused at his son’s stunned question. [What am I doing in the house I bought?]

Carlos blinks at his dad before turning to you, slipping his hand into yours and tugging you out of the kitchen softly, “Let’s go; you’re going to be late, no?”

Sr. chortles as he grabs a mug from the cabinet, “¡Mijo! Hiding a woman from me?! It is okay, Lando will tell me everything. That is why he’s my favorite son!”

Carlos throws his head back with an exasperated groan, but it doesn’t hide the redness of his ears from his father’s teasing.

You stifle your smile, squeezing his hand pacifyingly, “Your wallet is in the bowl at the front. Um, if it’s possible,” you tuck a curl behind your ear shyly, “Do you have another car besides the Ferrari? I love it, but I cannot show up stepping out of that.”

Carlos snorts, shoving his wallet into his pocket and leading you to the garage, “Is a Porsche fine?”

“It’ll work.”

He gets you there in thirteen minutes, slowing the car to a crawl as you direct him to the employee entrance. You grab your purse, awkwardly pausing as you pop the door open. 

You face him with a sheepish grin, “Thank you for the ride. Tell Lando I said good morning.”

Carlos drags his eyes over your form languidly, before he nods imperceptibly, “Do you have enough time to get ready?”

“You’ve made up a few extra minutes for me with your skilled driving on the way here,” Carlos huffs a laugh at that, “So, I should be okay.”

The two of you fall back into silence, unsure of what else to say. You take the leap of faith this time around, it’s the most you can do after learning the way they tried to catch you before you left last summer.

“It wouldn’t be overstepping if I kissed you, right?”

“Ven aquí,” Carlos exhales, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning over the console to meet you halfway. [Come here.]

His lips are swollen and textured from your’s and Lando’s combined attention, but the kiss is the sweetest and most tender one you’ve ever experienced. The soft exhale of breath from his nose stokes the butterflies in your stomach, who flutter awake as adoration pumps through your veins. The two of you part, eyes fluttering open to stare softly. He settles back into his seat, looking at your lips longingly, his line of sight broken as you exit the vehicle.

You clear your throat, “Um, I’ll text you guys when I get home later, okay? Adiós, te qu—hasta luego.” [Bye, I l—see you later.]

You shut the door and speed walk into the building before he could say anything about how you nearly exposed how down bad you are already. You hope he doesn’t bring it up, for the sake of your mental stability. The moment you step into the employee locker room, you're accosted by your friends, Isa, Lucas, and Stephanie. 

“Damn,” Lucas snaps, “I was really hoping you’d be late. I need my shift on Tuesday covered.”

You shrug, sliding past the girls to walk to your locker. “Sucks to suck.”

“¡Oye, pequeña!” Isa and Stephanie box you in at your locker as you grab your spare uniform and sport shorts, Isa stresses, “You cannot, walk in here and act like nothing happened! You show up wearing the outfit I picked out for you yesterday? Your hair is a mess! You sent the vaguest text about possibly showing up late? And, you get dropped off in a Porsche!?” [Hey, girly(i guess, idrk how to explain it)!]

Stephanie’s eyes blow wide and you rest your head into the cool metal of your locker door as she bursts, “Girl—did you get laid?!”

“Thank you for that, Steph,” you bite out, turning to look at them with the politest grimace you can muster, “Now, everyone will know exactly what I got up to last night because Lucas—,” you point behind you with a thumb, speaking loudly to drive your words in, “—Is physically incapable of keeping his mouth shut.”

He raises his hands up and backs out of the locker room with a devious smile. 

Turning to Isa, you shake your head, “I do not know why you like him. He’s such a chismosa.” [Gossip.]

She rolls her eyes at you, following you as you make your way into the bathroom, “It’s not a bad thing. He tells me all of the gossip I miss out on–why are there bruises on your thigh—holy fuck! He must have big hands. Which means he has a big—”

“Okay!” You screech, running into a stall and locking the door shut behind you, “I will tell you and the girls every single detail as soon as we finish today!”

She makes a triumphant noise, her steps fading as she exits the restroom, “You better! Or, I’ll force you to listen to me wax poetic about Lucas’s eyes for hours!”

Scoffing, you tug your shirt over your head and yell back, “You already do that anyways!”

The slicked-back ponytail you gelled your hair into, has already sprung flyaways since you didn’t have enough time to set your hair with a wrap before you had to drive out onto the course. You’re almost three hours into your shift, and the sun feels like it’s at its strongest even though you have a few more hours of it burning hotter. Only twenty minutes until lunch, you remind yourself, then you can fix your hair and cool down in the restaurant's walk-in freezer.

You’ve just finished serving a bachelor party, a group of ten men who didn’t give you a hard time. You talked loosely with them, engaging in small talk because connections are everything and you never know who you might run into on the green.

Like Carlos and Lando, case in point.

The groom-to-be actually met his fiancé here. She was a bartender in the clubhouse about seven years ago, and on complete chance she ended up being the one to serve him. He was starry-eyed as he explained to you that he fell in love with her as soon as he saw her. He ordered an unbelievably expensive amount of drinks for him and his boys (the same group of men in the bachelor party), and when she slid the bill over to him, he said, “For this price, you could’ve bought me for the night.”

You called bullshit, and he looked at his friends who backed up his words; they all heard it when he said it. You watched as he took a sip from his beer bottle with a reverent shake of his head, “Now, we’re getting married next week. On August 12th, or 8/12. Which was the price of the tab that night, $812.”

You made a joke about him needing to strengthen his self-esteem if he would consider selling his body for a measly $800, and to attend an A.A. meeting because that’s a ridiculous amount of money to spend on drinks that leave your system quicker than you ingested them. 

The men crowed in laughter at your ribbing of the groom-to-be, but you did seriously congratulate him on his engagement and wished him a long, happy marriage.

And currently, you’ve parked your cart for a few minutes to get over the urge you feel to cry. You're jealous of a woman you’ve never met before because she gets to love a man who’s devoting the rest of his life to her. She gets to marry him, and you’ve agreed to be nothing more than a summer romance to the men you could see yourself falling in love with.

You thank the universe for allowing you to cross paths with the groom-to-be. It reminded you of your place with the Formula One drivers and it’s a temporary one.

Your walkie-talkie crackles with the sound of your name and you sniffle deeply, blinking your eyes quickly to rid the moisture. 

“What’s up?” You chirp cheerily into the voice box, waiting for a response.

“By chance, are you missing your earrings? Over.” It’s Ryan, he takes his radio messages seriously. You tug at your earlobes, and damn, you feel naked.

“I am. Did I leave them in the dressing room?”

“You have to say ‘over’ at the end of your messages, you know that. Over.”

“Ryan...” you hold the line open to annoy him a little bit before you give in, “Did I leave them in the dressing room? O-v-e-r, over.”

“I was going to be nice to you but you lost that chance. Over.” 

You snort, intrigued to hear how he’s going to ‘retaliate.’ The two of you started here at the same time and Ryan has become like a little brother to you, against your will. 

“I just wanted to let you know that two objectively handsome men turned in your earrings to the front desk,” you shout in surprise, firing up the golf cart and slamming the pedal down to head back to the clubhouse, “Hmm…I think they said you left them at their house last night. Overrrrr.” He draws the ‘over’ out teasingly and the walkie-talkie squeals with static and screams of surprise from the other employees on the channel.

“TWO? YOU FREAK!!!” Lucas.

Incoherent screaming. Isa.

“Nobody here can call me a slut anymore!” Rob.

“Is that why you couldn’t sit comfortably at the morning meeting?!” Sofia.

Ryan’s voice crackles through, “Oh! I forgot to mention—don’t worry about stealing food from the restaurant for lunch; they dropped off a meal for you. Over.”

The walkie-talkie explodes with noise and you turn the volume to zero. You’re reporting them all to HR.

You tune out the jeers in the break room as you devour a croquetade jamón and chase it with a spoonful of rice. You send a photo of the food with a thumbs-up in the frame, to Carlos and Lando. You type out your thanks for the jewelry return and lunch. There’s no hesitation as you press send on message inquiring about when the third date is going to happen.

The third date is private cooking lesson where you’re coached through making a few classic Spanish tapas. Lando immersed too deeply and only responded to ‘Chef Lando’ during the class. Carlos ate all of the chorizo he was supposed to use on his flatbread. You terrify the actual chef with your less than savory cutting technique. Your torn apart on their fingers that night, as they take turns coaxing you over the cliff.

You decrease the amount hours you’re able to work at the golf course. You’re only on the schedule during the middle of the week–Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday—leaving you with a four day weekend to frolic around Madrid with your boyfr—with Carlos and Lando.

The fourth date is dinner and a show. It’s your first time watching a ballet, and your lucky enough to be watching the performance at Teatro Real, one of the most prestigious opera houses in Europe. It’s also the first time you get railed in a women’s bathroom stall at Teatro Real, one of the most prestigious opera houses in Europe.

Lando pants raggedly as he fucks into you from behind, “Ah—shit, sunshine, you’re so tight.”

Your moan is muffled around Carlos’s cock and he hisses at the vibration, knocking his head against the stall door loudy. 

When Lando climaxes, he whimpers out a, “te quiero.” You pretend to miss it as you concentrate on sucking Carlos to completion. Carlos licks his spend from your tongue, babbling his te quiero’s into your mouth. You don’t say it back. [Te quiero means I love you, but it’s more casual, less serious in nature.]

The fifth date is pottery and you ride Carlos’s face to the image of Lando’s hands coning down his clay on the wheel. The sixth date is driving around the outskirts of Madrd’s city limits and passing the phone around to queue a song to play as you three switch between talking and enjoying the tunes. 

The seventh date is painting the mugs you made; you made two, one for Carlos and one for Lando—they each made you one as well. You’ve painted Carlos’s as a lemon and Lando’s as an orange—and homage to the sip of sunshine line they pulled on you. Lando painted a field of sunflowers for you. Carlos painted a sun with rays spilling from it, the words ‘my sunshine’ scripted into the middle of the sun.

Somewhere between the fifth and seventh date, they became comfortable with saying te quiero  to you outside of sex. 

It’s said as you serve them drinks on the course, as they drop you of at home after dates, as they cuddle with you without wanting more, as they wake you up between them in the morning. 

You give in somewhere beewen the sixth and seventh date. But, you only allow yourself to say te quiero during or after sex.

And, you stifle your sobs of anguish into your pillow at home, dreading the day you return to school and they return to racing.

Your dad enjoys the mobile car show of priceless automobiles that appear in his driveway to pick you up. Your mom eagerly awaits your renditions of your dates every night and you’re careful to edit around the explicit parts. 

The dates progress to you spending your four days off at their  Carlos Sr. 's vacation home, packing a bag with your necessities so you don’t have to risk wasting time away from them by stopping at your house. They take the time to explain to you just how much of a goat Lewis Hamilton is. Lando helps with your wash day, soaking up your tidbits of advice for his own curls. Carlos lets you soundboard ideas for your dissertation off of him without complaining, iterjecting every once in a while with a viewpoint you hadn’t considered. 

Your craving for intimacy is satiated. They twirl you around in the kitchen to Spanish ballads they sing terribly at the top of their lungs. They terrorize you on the green, choosing increasingly difficult cocktails for you to make so you have to spend more time with them instead of doing your job. You and Carlos terrorize Lando with a football games of keep away. You and Lando terrorize Carlos by hiding his shirts from him so he has to walk around topless. They don’t terrorize you in retaliation—if you don’t count their constant te quiero’s as terrorizing acts.They pick you up at some ridiculous hours when you’ve gone clubbing with your friends; making sure you chug a glass of water, helping you rinse off in the shower and moisturizing your skin before dressing you in their clothes, doing your skincare for you before putting you to bed. 

They drag their feet through helping you repack your belongings on the morning of your last day in Spain. You let Lando get away with tugging garments out of your bag every time you turn your back to him, hiding your smile as you see Carlos assist him by stuffing it at the bottom of the pile of clothes that doesn’t seem to shrink.

Eventually, they give up. Their eyes trace your form as you do your last walkaround to make sure you haven’t left anything behind. Your check ends at the front door, grabbing your keys from the bowl on the entryway table.

You sigh heavily, “Well, don’t just stand there.”

They gravitate towards you, hugging you tightly and peppering an endless amount of bittersweet kisses along any patch of skin they can reach. Lando hunches down to hide his face in your neck, and Carlos rests his forehead against yours.

“¡Chicos, calmaté!” Your giggly exclamation sounds watery, “I am coming back next year, remember?”

“That’s too longgg,” Lando complains into your neck, his voice sounding as pitiful as yours. You step backwards to cradle his face between your hands. His cheeks are ruddy and his eyes are dejected even as he smiles shakily under your touch.

“Date us.” Carlos blurts out desperately, “Ay, perdóname—May we date you, please?” [Forgive me.]

You gape at the older man, struggling to ascertain what he’s asked of you. 

Stumbling gracelessly, your hands fall from Lando’s face, who makes a hurt noise at the loss. “Date me? I thought you both said this was just a fling?”

The Brit twists his hands together at your words, his face saddening further as he corrects you, “Summer romance—fling is too harsh.”

“Too casual?” You shout, “I thought this was supposed to be casual! I felt like shit whenever I didn’t say te quiero back! I wanted more the moment we sat down at that restaurant a month ago, but I thought I couldn’t have it because that’s not what we agreed on!”

“You want more?” Carlos clarifies, his tone optimistic. 

“¡Cabrón!”  You laugh, hurtling forward to throw your arms around his neck. Relieved tears spill over your waterline, soaking into the Spaniard’s shirt. “I’m damn near in love with you guys–yes,yes,yes, I want more.”

Lando glows, blubbering incoherently with happiness and you shush him with your lips.

“I wish you had asked me days ago,” you sniffle cutely, smiling crookedly as you continue, “—’cause I really do have to leave, or I won’t have enough time to pack my things into my suitcases at home.”

You groan as you find yourself with an armful of two Formula One drivers bemoaning the unfairness of being separated from you even though they just got you.

“Mis amores, escúchame—you had me the entire time,” you coo, “We all know how phones work. We can communicate speedily with texts, and video calls, and send voice messages, and even regular calls. If we’re doing this we have to have a serious talk about it when I land in the States, yeah? Long distance is difficult, but I’m willing to put in the effort to make it work, if you two do the same.” [My loves, listen to me.]

“Phone sex isn’t the worst thing in the world,” Lando quips, smiling as he watches you and Carlos chortle at the unexpected comment.

The laughter ringing through the air fizzles out. You bite your lip, shaking your head slightly as their stares fixate on your mouth. They haven’t managed to stop ogling at your lips over the course of the month.

“Te quiero,” you state. Lando repeats it back instantly, Carlos kisses you before doing the same.

You pick up your bag from the floor, “Promise me that you’ll do your best to make this relationship work.”

Their confirmations are swift, even taking turns crossing their pinkies with yours and with themselves. Your heart sings with love. They walk you to your car. Carlos takes the bag from your hand and places it in your backseat, Lando holds your door open, making sure you don’t hit your head as you sit in the driver’s seat. 

He shuts the door smoothly, and you roll down the window to exchange your last goodbyes. 

“See you next summer.”

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© httpsserene2024 — photos used are from pinterest (edited by me). borders by @cafekitsune.

[gia-d]

Back in October last year, I started reading This is an Adjuration by @not-freyja.

By the time I had made it to chapter 5, I had already started typesetting this story as I read because I knew this would be one of those stories that I needed to have on my shelf.

When I finally caught up to the story at chapter 31, I begged the author to let me bind this when it was finished.

Nearly a year later, and what is probably the most important bind of my life is finally finished. Check out these glamour shots, and if you want to hear more about the actual binding process and about how this fic actually changed my life, see below.

So funny story, before I get into the technical side of this bind, but this fic actually changed my life. Not as in I was greatly emotionally moved by the story, though don't get me wrong I absolutely was, but genuinely this fic introduced me to some of the best people I have ever had to privilege of knowing (Hello Class, you know who you are 🩷), and also, it introduced me to Freyja, the incredibly talented author, who, as I type this, is curled up in bed next to me fast asleep after flying half way around the world to go on a two week long date with me.

Moral of the story folks is comment on the fics you like. You might accidentally meet the love of your life on, and I can't believe I'm saying this, AO3.

Anyways, about the bind!

This bind was a challenge from day 1. I had to do the typeset for this 300k word fic 4 times, and had to split it across 2 volumes. This was the longest fic I have ever attempted to bind, and it was so thick I couldn't get it in the paper trimmer.

To make this book as durable as possible, I attempted a few techniques. I secured it with 3 tapes, I made an Oxford hollow, I rounded the spine, I made a slipcase and I used 2.3mm boards where normally I use 1.8mm.

The slipcase is covered with embossed faux leather, buckram and plain ribbon, and lined with gold satin fabric. I've never made a slipcase before so this was an experience.

The books are covered with an emerald green silk finish bookcloth which really gave the books the luxury they deserved. I foiled custom end papers as well as every chapter title page using heat reactive transfer foil on toner ink (never again I am never doing that again omg it took days). Huge thank you to @la-sera for letting me use her artwork which helped inspire this fic!

The grey flashback chapters I had to use HTV for the border decoration and I'm very happy with how that turned out because it was so easy and straight forward, unfortunately it just wasn't viable for the whole book.

It feels weird to finally have these books done. They have my blood, sweat, tears and my heart poured into them, and I've been working on them for so long that it's odd to actually have them finished. I'm so proud of this bind, and feel like I've grown so much as a fanbinder by making these.

Anyways, if anyone has any questions about the process, please don't hesitate to ask!

(and if you are an Linked Universe fan and haven't read Adjuration yet, this is your sign!)

[emmcfrxst]

omg old man!logan with mom!reader and laura has me in TEARSSSSS i love them so much

he would never admit it because he's too proud but does get a little jealous when all your attention is on laura. it's nothing serious obv (who tf would be jealous of their child😭) but he is left with with a heightened sense of need for you and your touch. so when night time finally comes around, he's super happy to get you all to himself and just shower you with the love that laura showered you with during the day <33

(the concept of reader being both logan's and laura's favorite person to ever exist is so sweet aaahhhhh)

i’ve said this before i believe but something about laura really brings out logan’s inner child; he’s a lot more mischievous when she’s around, allowing himself to act like a kid and have fun— he’s provoking her on purpose (all in good fun, obviously! he wouldn’t say anything that could actually hurt her feelings, at least not once he’s gotten used to interacting with a child again, he’s accidentally hurt her feelings before by being a little too brash, but that was before he decided to make conscious efforts to let her in) and bickering with her any chance he gets, a grin on his face when she takes the bait and argues back (he’s not gonna lie, he’s pretty proud of just how vivacious she is, she does remind him of himself but he won’t admit that out loud) because he’s really never felt quite as youthful when he’s around her. they’re quite entertaining to watch honestly, because he absolutely will stick his tongue out back at her if she does it, and he will chase her around the house in playful anger if she insults him. he also likes to ruffle her hair when walking past her because she always lets out the most offended little yell, jumping on his back in retaliation and he walks around the house with her hanging off of him like a koala, despite the ache/discomfort the added weight brings him. he’s also the one who started using the nickname “monkey” for her, partly due to her most prized possession: a plushie you gave her (which i talked about here if you wanna read <3) and partly because she loves to climb pretty much everything she sees; including trees, doorframes, random furniture, fences and of course her daddy. anyways yes, since she brings out the youthful side of him he does allow himself to fight her for your attention, which quickly turns into a competition (honestly pretty much anything turns into a competition when it comes to these two, it’s kind of their love language) and logan isn’t afraid to play dirty despite the fact that laura is like 11— he will use his strength to untangle her from you, playfully throwing her on the couch away from you and grinning at her while wrapping his own arms around you, mouthing “my turn now” to her, making her look at him with the most offended expression ever seen on a human being. there’s never a boring moment with them, and you’re constantly showered in both attention and affection <3

[navybrat817]

Congrats, Miss Navy!

If Smartie had student loans, how would that celebration go after paying them?

I appreciate it, nonnie! It doesn't feel real yet. I don't think it'll feel real for me until next month. And I think Smartie would feel the same way if there were student loans and, like me, maybe a bit emotional.

"Smartie, is there a reason why you're giving your laptop the finger?" "Because I just made my last loan payment!"

You were smart, you didn't earn the nickname for no reason. But you still had to take out a bit in loans that your scholarships and grants didn't cover. Debt like that could be stressful and he knew it wore on you, even when you didn't vocalize it. You didn't have to carry that burden alone. That's was one of the reasons you had him.

"That's amazing," he says, wishing he had something better to say for such a huge milestone. Though he could help you celebrate tonight. Nice dinner. Massage. Whatever you want.

You're so excited that the laptop almost falls over when you jump up. Bucky anticipated that would happen and easily catches it before any damage can be done. And he can't help but chuckle when you pump your fists in the air. "Suck it! Eat it! Fuck it!" You yell.

It's adorable and silly and he wishes he could record the moment. To see you dancing around the room makes his smile widen. He wants you to feel like this all the time.

This woman will be the mother of my children, ladies and gentlemen.

"You know, I have something you can suck and I'm happy to eat or fuck whatever you have to offer," he smirks before you stop your cheer to face him. There are tears in your eyes and he's immediately on his feet. "I was-"

"No, I'm not upset. I'm happy," you smile as tears slide down your cheeks. "Think of what we can do with it now. We can use that money for savings. Or a trip. OOH. I should get you a gift! A new leather jacket!"

"You don't have to get me anything," he says, his heart swelling. You always considered him and his his feelings.

"Maybe I want to," you say, wiping at your face.

Like your laptop, he catches you as you launch yourself into his arms. He can hear you sniffling before you bury your face in his neck. "I'm proud of you, Smartie," he whispers, holding you tight. Not just for the loans and general hard work, but everything you do.

"Thank you, Stud," you whisper before you lift your head, your eyes still brimming with happy tears. You wait a beat before you press your lips to his and he can feel how much you love him. He loves you just the same, if not more. "Now, which first? Eat or fuck?"

He laughs before pulling you to the couch. Celebratory sex was always a good thing. "Depends on what your pussy is aching for more. My tongue or my cock."

You moan, a happy smile on your face once again. "Surprise me."

And that's exactly what he did.

Love and thanks! ❤️

[rosenotactuallyquartz]

“rose is always wall eyed, sad eyed even when smiling.” — rebecca sugar

this is such a simple note describing rose’s appearance in rebecca’s concept drawings for rose’s lion 3 debut, but it’s incredibly tragic when you consider rose’s character

she’s so deeply ashamed of herself and her past; the way she worships everyone around her is so sincere; she can’t stand herself

rose keeps her eyes closed in every picture she leaves behind. rose with her boyfriend, the portrait in steven’s house. she wouldn’t want him to be anywhere near that kind of pain. even rose’s fountain has a statue of her with her eyes closed. she hides parts of herself, literally & figuratively.

she can’t open up about her past; she would much rather shut it out. she can’t bear the thought of even having to look at her own pain.

“oh, i’m so happy for everyone who’s going to know you.” — rose, lion 4

“rose quartz hoped with all her being that her child would grow up surrounded by love & kindness & care… and would never find a way back to her horrendous old home.” — the tale of steven

“sometimes i wonder if it's even you up there, smiling all day and night. i just want to know the real you. not the you that everyone tells me about.” — steven, storm in the room

just on a pearlrose note, i always loved how pearl was in the picture on the left. rose really did trust her & garnet & ame, despite the fact that it took time for them to understand how to show their love & raise a half human kid properly. but he was a gift to them & she believed in them too. she’d be proud of them, especially with everything going on.

rose hides her past, but one person was there for most of it. she was the type to notice small details—maybe it was painfully easy for her to notice rose’s eyes. i wonder if this complicated things even more, as she was already focused on what she could do to make rose happy. simply being herself made rose feel loved, but that was always something she struggled to feel worthy of

[primejourney]

G'day!

Here is my entry for the Sept-Ingo prompt "Memories"! This is the one I mentioned as being in the works before (originally started for the "Freedom" prompt). I worked a long time on it. I'm rather proud of it, I have to say!

(...I keep telling myself I'll make a quick sketch for the day but wind up getting sucked into making a complicated piece instead lol. A good thing though! I think I'm making more finished pieces than I have done for a while!)

As I mentioned before, I think Ingo finds Pokemon battles comforting, even though he does not fully remember why. He can feel the powerful presence of past companions.

More comments under the cut

I hope the empty eyes don't make them look sinister. I was going for a bit of a "nebulous" look since Ingo doesn't' remember them fully (...yet ^^). They're sort of ghosts of the past (and future!). I also gave them determined but happy expressions - they love sharing the thrill of the fight and strengthening their bond with Ingo!

I wasn't sure how to draw Ingo's side profile, so I looked to @waywardstation for inspiration. I really like how their Ingo has a strong silhouette that still keeps that cartoon look! However, I now wish I had made his hand match that style a bit more versus looking anatomical. Somethin' for me to keep in mind for the future. :)

[its-avalon-08]

it all fell down (ln4)

part11

multipart story! part1 part2 part3 part4 part5 part6 part7 part8 part9 part10

✦ pairing - lando norris x female reader

very important note at the end - pls read it

summary : lando norris and y/n were friends for 20 years, fell in love and dated for five. until it all fell down. they left each others lives abruptly and never spoke again, until they met again in the most unexpected way. can they find their way back or will certain scars never heal?

Y/N and Lando walked back to her apartment in silence, the cool rain still falling lightly around them. Their hands were entwined, the contact grounding them as they made their way through the quiet streets. Every step felt like a promise, every glance a reassurance that they were finally on the same page, ready to confront the past that had haunted them for so long.

As they entered Y/N’s apartment, the familiar warmth of the space enveloped them. She flicked on the lights, casting a soft glow over the room, and dropped her keys on the counter. For a moment, they just stood there, the weight of what had happened between them settling in the air.

Lando took a deep breath, breaking the silence. “We should talk.”

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding. “Yeah, we should.”

They moved to the couch, sitting down with a cautious distance between them, the tension from before replaced with a more vulnerable kind of anticipation. The kind that came from knowing that the next few minutes could either heal them or break them all over again.

Y/N was the first to speak, her voice trembling with emotion. “I never wanted things to end the way they did. I was just… scared, Lando. Scared of how much you meant to me, scared of losing myself in you. I didn’t know how to handle it.”

Lando’s eyes softened as he looked at her, the pain of their breakup still fresh in his memory. “I get it, Y/N. I was scared too. But the way we both handled it… the things we said…”

His voice broke slightly, and Y/N reached out, her hand finding his. “We hurt each other so badly,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’ve never regretted anything more than the way I treated you. I thought pushing you away would make it easier, but it just… destroyed us.”

Lando squeezed her hand, his own eyes glistening with tears. “You said dating me was a mistake, and it killed me, Y/N. I kept hearing those words over and over, wondering if you ever really loved me at all.”

Tears spilled down Y/N’s cheeks as she shook her head, her voice cracking. “I didn’t mean it, Lando. I was so angry, and I just wanted to hurt you because I was hurting. But I never, ever believed that. You were the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Lando’s breath hitched, his own tears now falling freely. “It wasn’t just you, though. I said things too, things I can’t take back. I was so hurt by what you said, I wanted you to feel the same pain I was feeling. But all it did was tear us apart.”

Y/N leaned closer, her voice breaking with emotion. “I hated myself for letting you go, for saying those things. Every day, I missed you, Lando. But I was too proud, too scared to admit that I was wrong.”

Lando’s hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb gently wiping away her tears. “I missed you too, more than I can even explain. But I was so angry at you, and at myself. I felt like I wasn’t enough for you, like I couldn’t make you happy.”

Y/N shook her head, more tears falling. “You were everything to me, Lando. I was just too blind to see it at the time. I let my fear control me, and I lost the most important person in my life because of it.”

Lando’s voice was thick with emotion as he spoke. “I felt the same way, Y/N. I lost myself in the anger, in the pain of losing you. I started acting out, trying to forget, but nothing worked. Nothing made me feel better.”

The air between them was heavy with all the unsaid words, all the pain that had been bottled up for so long. Y/N’s heart ached as she looked at Lando, seeing the hurt in his eyes, knowing she had put it there.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “For everything. I wish I could take it all back, Lando.”

Lando shook his head, pulling her closer. “We can’t change the past, but we can start over. We can try again, if you still want that.”

Y/N’s tears flowed freely as she nodded, her heart swelling with hope. “I do, Lando. I want that more than anything. But I don’t want to hurt you again.”

Lando pressed his forehead to hers, his voice a soft, broken whisper. “We’ll figure it out, Y/N. Together this time. No more running away, no more pushing each other away. Just us, facing whatever comes together.”

Y/N let out a sob, the weight of the past finally lifting from her shoulders. “I love you, Lando. I never stopped.”

Lando’s own tears fell as he pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her as if he would never let go. “I love you too, Y/N. And I’m not going anywhere.”

They held each other for a long time, their tears mingling as they finally let go of the pain that had kept them apart for so long. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of them, wrapped in each other’s arms, ready to start over.

Y/N and Lando sat on her couch, the heaviness of their earlier conversation giving way to a lighter, more playful atmosphere. The weight of their past had been lifted, leaving space for something new—something familiar, yet fresh.

Y/N curled up, tucking her legs under her as she sipped on the hot chocolate Lando had made. She glanced at him, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “So, tell me… how many dates did you go on while we were broken up?”

Lando raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Me? Dates? Nah, I was just too busy being a ‘man of mystery’ or whatever the tabloids were calling me.”

Y/N chuckled, nudging his shoulder. “Oh, come on. You know I kept tabs on you. You weren’t exactly subtle about it.”

Lando grinned, leaning back against the couch. “Okay, fine. I went on a few dates… but none of them ever felt right. I’d be sitting there, trying to make conversation, but all I could think about was how you would have rolled your eyes at the things they were saying.”

Y/N laughed, a soft blush creeping up her cheeks. “Well, for the record, I didn’t date much either. I tried, but every guy just felt… off. They weren’t you.”

Lando’s smile softened as he looked at her, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “So, we were both equally terrible at moving on, huh?”

“Pretty much,” Y/N admitted, laughing. “I even went out with this one guy who was super into cars, hoping it would make things easier. But all I could think about was how much you’d love to debate him on whether Ferrari or McLaren was better.”

Lando snorted, shaking his head. “That poor guy didn’t stand a chance.”

Y/N giggled, the sound light and infectious. “Nope, not at all. And every time I’d see a photo of you with some model, I’d convince myself that I was totally over you… but then I’d stalk your Instagram and see your stories, and I’d realize I was just lying to myself.”

Lando chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I may have done some stalking myself. I’d see you posting about all the new things you were doing, and I’d try to convince myself that you were happier without me. But it only made me want to reach out more.”

Y/N shook her head with a smile. “It’s kind of sad, isn’t it? We were both trying so hard to move on, but we couldn’t stop thinking about each other.”

“Sad?” Lando repeated, raising an eyebrow. “I think it’s kind of sweet. We’re both just hopeless when it comes to each other.”

“Yeah, hopeless,” Y/N agreed, her voice softening. “I guess that’s what happens when you fall in love with your best friend.”

Lando’s expression grew tender as he reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I missed you so much, Y/N. No one could ever compare to you.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at his words, and she placed her hand over his, squeezing it gently. “I missed you too, Lando. Every single day.”

They sat there in comfortable silence, their fingers intertwined, both of them reveling in the warmth of their reunion.

Lando glanced at her, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know, if we’d just swallowed our pride a little sooner, we could have avoided all those awful fucking dates.”

Y/N laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “True. But then we wouldn’t have these funny stories to tell.”

“Fair point,” Lando conceded, grinning. “And, hey, at least we know now that no one else stands a chance.”

Y/N smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder. “No one ever did, Lando. It was always you.”

Lando wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer. “And it was always you for me, too.”

As they sat there, cuddled up on the couch, the weight of the past fell away entirely, leaving only the warmth of the present. They were no longer two people trying to move on from each other—they were two people who had finally found their way back home.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------avaspeaks - hi lovelies! im so sorry for being gone for so long, exam prep threw me for a toss and i was so occupied and busy. but now im back for good and ready to update the blog. i felt so awful for not updating because i know the frustration when a series is just left unfinished. but worry not because your girl is back and ready to finish all the requests and series!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist ---> @misspygmypie @kol67-t @sltwins @f1fantasys @sarx164 @imboredway2much @demandealalune e @elz-xo o @bellelovesharryy @hey-there9-its-me @marauders-wife @itsjustfranzi @l-sofiamia-l @ironmaiden1313 @01rrdbull @avni-sarai @maddy27

comment to get added to the taglist

[bts-trans]

240917 Weverse Translations

J-Hope's Post ❇️ with Jungkook's Comment 💬

한 달, 그래 딱 30일! 시간이 야속하기만 했는데 이제는 정이라는 게 생겨 애틋해지네요. 짐 정리도 해보고, 잘 쓰고 애용하던 물품들도 후임들에게 나눠주고서, 가벼워진 관물대를 보니 그 마음이 좀 더 짙어집니다. 돌이켜보면 별거 아닌데 그때는 왜 이렇게 긴장되고 경직되어 있었는지.. ㅎ (관물대 열리는 소리마저도 신경을 자극했던 그 시절) 새로 들어온 전입 신병들 보면서 나름의 동병상련이 생기고 제 모습이 보여 귀여워하는 요즘입니다. 참.. 극한의 F 상태가 되어 제 군 생활을 돌이켜보는 중인데.. 뿌듯합니다! 떳떳하구요! 물론 지금은 말년 병장 그 자체, 침대에 누워 글을 쓰지만요 하하 연휴가 참 좋네요!! 푹 쉴 수 있어서! 사족이 길었지만, 그래서 추석 인사드리러 온 거에요~ 근데 우연하게도 딱 30일이 남은 오늘이네요~ 모든 분들의 가정의 평화가 이루어지고 있는 지금, 제 마음속에도 비둘기가 요동칩니다. 조금은 뜨거운 추석이지만!! 풍요로운 한가위가 되시길 기원하며 여러분들에게 안부를 전해드립니다. 얼른 가을이 왔으면 좋겠습니다. 떨어지는 낙엽 조심해 보게~ 🍃 🍂 다음 달, 이날에 뵙겠습니다. 그날까지 부디 건강 잘 챙기시길..! 충성🫡

ㅇㅁㅅㄹㅎ💜🕊

JK: 고생했어유 쨔홉💜 (https://weverse.io/bts/artist/0-149280230?anchor=4-335171757)

JH: One month, exactly 30 days! At first, time felt so cruel But now I've developed this fondness and am getting sentimental.

I've been clearing my things, and giving away some of my belongings that I used a lot to my successors. Now, looking at my locker that's much emptier than before

those feelings are even stronger.

Looking back, it really wasn't such a big deal, I don't know why I was so nervous..ha (back then, when even the sound of the locker door opening would make me flinch) These days, I watch the new recruits come in and feel sense if empathy towards them. I see myself in them, they seem so adorable.

Man…looking back at my military life in this extremely F state*..I'm pretty satisfied with myself! And proud!

Though of course, currently, I'm the typical sergeant at the end if his service—lying on my bed as I write this haha The holidays are so great!! It's so nice to rest! This has become a bit lengthy but, I wanted to come here to wish you a Happy Chuseok~ And then it just happened to be the exact day that marks my last month~

As all families experience peace, a dove flutters in my heart as well. It is a bit of a warm Chuseok, but!! I hope it is a prosperous one. My best wishes to you.

I hope that autumn comes soon. So that be wary of even falling leaves²~🍃🍂

I'll see you next month, in this day. Until then, please stay healthy..!

Salute🫡

I love you ARMY💜🕊️

(T/N: *Refers to the 'F' (feeling) personality type in the MBTI types.

In the military, people say that sergeants close to the end of their service should be wary of "even the falling leaves" as a way of saying that they shouldn't get complacent and make sure that they finish their service without any incidents, especially in the final stretch.)

JK: You've worked so hard and done so well JjyaHop💜

Trans cr; Aditi @ bts-trans © TAKE OUT WITH FULL CREDITS

Jungkook's Post ❇️

추석 잘 보내시길 바랍니다 🫡

I hope you have a great Chuseok 🫡

Trans cr; Aditi @ bts-trans © TAKE OUT WITH FULL CREDITS

[firehose118]

the person you’ve become

rated t | bucktommy | 4k

By some miracle—or because he’s just that talented—Evan manages to arrange twelve different people’s schedules so that they’re free on the same Saturday afternoon. He does, indeed, use the clipboard. Tommy considers himself a pretty organized guy, but this is on another level. Evan is amazing. He has everything planned down to the number of cilantro leaves they need.

He’s never seen Evan so stressed out. He’s never seen Evan so happy.

They spend the night before and the morning of the barbecue prepping. Tommy is a perfectly competent cook on his own, but he’s happy to play sous chef even as Evan gets increasingly specific about how Tommy should be preparing the food. He has to eat almost a full carrot’s worth of sticks because Evan said he’d cut them too wide.

“Breathe, baby,” Tommy says when Evan almost melts down after realizing they somehow forgot to buy ranch dressing. “They’re not gonna disown you over one missing dip.”

Two hands deep in a pork rub, Evan looks over his shoulder and gives Tommy a look that’s the closest thing to a glare he’s ever received from him. “Tommy, we have carrots and celery already cut and nothing to dip them in. The kids aren’t gonna eat the vegetables plain, and we don’t have time to go back to the store.”

“Good thing we’re not the only people in the world who can go to the store,” Tommy says, pulling out his phone. “I’ll tell Eddie to pick some up on his way over. Okay?”

Evan’s shoulders deflate as he relaxes. “Yeah, okay. Good idea. Thank you.”

Tommy regrets trying to make light of this. It’s serious to Evan. He cares deeply about getting this right, about showing his love and proving he can take care of his family. Tommy isn’t the only one looking for approval with this barbecue.

Tommy shoots the text off to Eddie (Evan is close to losing it. Do not come over without ranch dressing or he might kill us both). He walks over and wraps his arms around Evan from behind. The knot of the apron digs into Tommy’s stomach where he’s pressed against Evan. It’s not something Tommy ever thought he’d find hot, but here he is.

“Everyone who’s coming today loves you,” Tommy murmurs into Evan’s ear. “They’re gonna be proud of you. I know I am. You’re doing such a good job.”

“Don’t distract me, please,” Evan says, but Tommy can hear the smile in his voice. Adorable.

“Yes, chef.” Tommy squeezes his arms around Evan’s waist and presses a kiss to his cheek, and then he backs off. “What’s next?”

{read on ao3}

[awhitegirlspassion]

'Snowbunny - a term that needs to be redefined!

As a young white woman who define myself as a 'snowbunny', but also used to struggle about being open and honest about my preference towards black men, I see a dire need to redefine the term 'snowbunny'!

When I see how the term 'snowbunny' is being used, I almost always see it in a sexual context where the term 'snowbunny' almost is a synonym for a sex-crazed white woman who focus merely on shallow physical desires. That's not what it means to me at all being a snowbunny and it honestly breaks my heart when people use it like this! To me, being a snowbunny means that I have a romantic and intimate preference towards black men. It means that I have the utmost and deepest respect for black men and black culture and that I see myself as a progressive young woman who has a deep emotional and romantic attraction towards black men. Of course this attraction also entails a physical attraction, but this is only a small part of the deep bond us snowbunnies share with black men.

I really think we need to redefine what it means to be a 'snowbunny', so that more young white women who have a preference towards black men can identify with- and feel comfortable coming out as 'snowbunnies'. The way we use the term today honestly alieanates many young women and thats such a shame! I used to date white boys when I was younger because I was afraid of being labelled as the type of girl who only focused on sex and physical attraction. I knew how my affection towards black men couldn't be trivialised and simplified to that, so I was afraid to call myself snowbunny. I think many white girls want to be open about their feelings about black guys and if we manage ro redefine the term 'snowbunny', I feel almost certain that we'll see WAY more young women coming out as 'snowbunnies'.

I KNOW that many young white women endure relationships with white boys because of how snowbunnies are being stigmatised and how it makes them feel miserable, unfulfilled and insecure! How do I know this? Because I used to be one of those girls and because I know many young women who hide their attraction towards black men because of the stigmatised perception poeple have! Today I'm a happy and proud snowbunny who are open about my feelings and I'm finally able to 'say no to white boys' and be the snowbunny I want to be!

I know this post won't change how people use the term 'snowbunny' over night, but I just felt I needed to put it out there to help other white women coming to terms with being a snowbunny and to feel comfortable and happy about how they feel. There are no shame in being a snowbunny just as there are no same in saying no to white boys!

Hugs and love from a passionate snowbunny

[taelophone]

Kitchen Fire

Joost Klein x Reader! TWs: RPF, tooth rotting fluff like omgggg W/C: 2207 A/N: I loved writing this sm thank you to the requester ily <33

Every full 365 days, the spotlight shines on one individual for their special day. Granted, many individuals around the world at once, but still. And today was all about you!

Joost was all about making sure you felt special and loved every single day, but he pushed sooooo much harder on your birthday. And today he decided he wanted to do something special for you!

“Good morning pineapple….” He started, giggling like a child as he shook you gently up out your sleep.

“…Looking very good very niiiice…” you chuckled back, barely even halfway awake. “Good morning, my dear..!” You smiled, rubbing the leftover sleep from your eyes as you went to sit up.

“How did you get in?” You smiled, knowing damn well you locked your door.

“Don’t worry about that, schatje, it’s your birthday!” He beamed, giving you no time to process before he sweeped you up, carrying and spinning you bridal style around your room.

“HAPPY BIRTHHHDAY TO YOU!” He sang, eagerly tossing you around as you giggled at his surprising amount of energy at 7 in the morning.

“Thank you, thank you!” You giggled, letting him pepper your face with tiny kisses.

“Go get ready, I booked a little spa day for you in like…an hour.” He smiled, placing you gently on your feet.

“Oh, okay then! Let me go get dressed.” You nodded, darting off to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

You knew that Joost probably went through a lot of labor to book your schedule up, considering he hates phone calls. But he still did it for you!

But what you didn’t know, was that the moment you were out the door, Joost was gonna completely takeover and decorate your house. He had big plans.

He laid down on the couch, his stomach pressed flat against the cushions as his long legs kicked up in the air while he waited for you to leave.

“You sure you don’t wanna go? I can pay-“

“Stop right there,” he murmured, raising a palm. “You’re not paying for anything. Much less a spa day for me.” He smiled.

“I have a lot of things to do at my computer, so I’ll be here when you get back and we can order some food.” He lied, watching you closely as you hobbled over to him and pecked his cheek.

“Okay…” you sighed, smiling at him lovingly. “I love you!! Bye!” You squeaked, closing the door behind you with an eager squeal.

He snickered at your joy, equally just as happy that you were happy. He waited about 10 minutes to make sure you were really gone before he got to work. 

He didn’t go too heavy on the decorations, as he didn’t want the cleanup to be horror for you two later. He hung up cute pink and white heart streamers, pink ribbons, and a massive paper sign that read ‘Happy Birthday’ with a collage of Joost’s many doodles.

He smiled, proud of his work before scurrying off to the kitchen, phone in hand. He scrolled through Pinterest, leaning back against the counter as he bit his bottom lip.

Joost had never been a cook, much less a baker, but he really really wanted to try for you.

Cakes with bows, Victoria cakes, sponge cakes, upside down cakes, fuck it, cake cake. He grew a little pale, the vast amount of cakes suddenly clueing him in on how little of a cakewalk making a cake would be.

He swallowed his anxiety before settling on a nice, simple raspberry jam Victoria cake. It looked easy, so he went straight for it.

He tossed the ingredients for cake in one big bowl, mixing them all together at once. The counter was riddled with flour, eggshells, and powdered sugar. It seemed as though no matter how much Joost mixed the batter, it never seemed to come to.

It was clumpy, but somehow still thick and…almost gelatinous. When he brushed against the counter, he could see the strange mixture jiggle and jitter. He cringed, staring down into the bowl as he fought back giggles.

He sighed, pulling out the circular baking pan and lined it with waxy parchment paper. He stared at the oven with genuine confusion, examining the little settings and knobs carefully before turning it up to the max, and tossing it on the top rack.

He wasn’t sure how long to keep the cake in, so he set a timer for an hour just to be safe. 

While he waited for the cake to finish, he cleaned the kitchen and did the dishes before plucking the raspberry preserves from your pantry.

He sat down next to the oven, welcoming its warmth as he occupied himself with his phone while he waited for you to come home.

Somewhere along the wait, the gentle warmth from the oven lulled his senses to comfort, threatening his eyes with a long nap.

And before he knew it, he was asleep.

You on the other hand, had been enjoying your entire day to the fullest. After your much needed spa day, you did some shopping at a cozy and pink stationary store you had been eyeing for a while. You even got a free pack of pens and a small plush keychain in honor of your special day!

You went store to store, milking absolutely every birthday deal to its death until around 6:30.

You made your way back home with over 200 notifications and achey arms from all your bags as you eagerly pranced through the front door.

“Jooost! I’m- oooh!” You rang, immediately admiring the decorations that hung from the walls. The afternoon sun beamed rose gold rays of sunshine through the windows, casting a gorgeous light over the shiny ribbons and bows as you walked through the house.

You tried to take in the scenery around you, but you could hear shuffling in the kitchen and smell smoke.

“Joost? You okay?” You cooed, setting your bags down on the floor and making your to the kitchen.

He stood by the counter, his hat bunched up in his hand as he stared at the brick literal molten charcoal on the counter. 

He turned around, holding the pan with two layers of oven mitts. “I tried to make you a cake, but…I can’t cook.” He smiled sheepishly, a light pink dusting the apples of his cheeks.

You giggled, watching as what was revealed to be a cake struggle to not explode in his hands. “It’s alright, love, thank you. We can make a cake together.”  You giggled, taking off your bracelets and the pretty little silver ring Joost had gotten for you awhile ago.

“Alright, what did you wanna make baby?” You asked, setting out the ingredients again, along with two bowls.

He rested his chin on your shoulder, watching as you set up the materials. “Victoria cake…” he hummed, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Ohhh, ok, ok.” You nodded, adding the softened butter and sugar to one bowl. “Ok, so you cream the butter and sugar first. You can’t just mix everything together at once. It’d work if it was a box cake though!” You explained, adding a pinch of salt to the now off-white and fluffy butter.

“Then you mix in the eggs after you beat them.” You nodded, cracking 3 eggs in the other bowl and mixing them together until they were well incorporated. You poured the eggs in with the butter little by little, mixing it together with a spatula.

“Do you want me to get you a whisk?” Joost asked, staring at the bowl in wonder. The dough wasn’t even finished, and it looked so much better than his did.

You shook your head, humming a small “nah.” You finished adding the rest of the eggs, fully stirring them into the fluffed butter. “When you use a whisk, it makes the butter and eggs separate. And that’s not what we want.”

Joost nodded, staring over your shoulder with childlike wonder and curiosity. “I didn’t know you could bake..?” He murmured, watching as you sifted the flour and baking powder into the bowl.

“Eh, I used to watch my mom in the kitchen.” You shrugged, giggling at the fond memory. “I would stare at her for a little while…I probably looked a lil crazy.”

“But it taught me a lot, so.” You shrugged, folding in the dry ingredients and smiling. “All done! Can you put this into two of the little circle baking sheets for me, please?” You beamed, handing him the bowl of light and fluffy dough.

“Yes, thank you.” He smiled, eagerly plopping half the dough into a baking pan before retrieving its twin from the cupboard and repeating the same process.

“It’s so fluffy…” he murmured, spreading out the dough evenly with the spatula. “Can I eat this?” He asked, waving the spatula around.

You stared at him with a raised brow, fighting the smirk that threatened to mark your face. “Sure, Joost. Why not.” You giggled.

While he ate the remnants of the cake batter, you sat the cakes in the hot oven and set a timer for 30 minutes. “I feel a little lazy, so I’m gonna do a really quick whipped cream for the cake.” You shrugged, unearthing the heavy cream from the back of the fridge.

“Babe can you hand me the hand mixer?” You asked, not knowing Joost had been standing half a centimeter behind you the whole time.

“Of course.” He murmured as the spatula hanging halfway out his mouth. He whisked around the kitchen momentarily before returning to your side, the little black mixer in his hand.

“Thank you!” You cooed, propping the mixer up securely on top of a random can of coconut cream. You gently placed the bowl under the whisk, poured the heavy cream and sugar into the bowl before turning the mixer on.

“Did you just DIY a stand mixer…?” Joost asked, genuine curiosity laced in his tone as he watched the heavy cream whip itself.

“I told you, I’m lazy.” You giggled. “It’s my birthday, I’m allowed to do this.” You nodded, walking out the kitchen and plopping down on the couch.

He hummed, staring at the makeshift stand mixer for a moment before joining you in the living room.

A few beats of silence passed by as you sat together, scrolling on your phones and enjoying each other’s presence before you spoke up.

“Wanna get changed with m-“

“Yes.”

You giggled, making your way back into your room to change into some comfy clothes as Joost followed behind you just as eagerly.

You emerged a while later, fresh faced and giddy after having done your night-time routine. You adjusted the pink strap on your hello kitty pajama pants, glancing at Joost’s matching pair as he felt the fluffy fabric underneath the palms of his hands.

“The cakes should be ready now!” You smiled, slinking into the kitchen and bending at the waist to stare into the glass door of the oven.

“…Yep. Think so!” You cheered quietly, slowly opening the oven and basking in its gusty breath of heat.

The smell of warm vanilla and confectionery goodness wafted through the air, filling your house with cozy comfort.

Joost stood closely behind you, watching as you took the cakes out of the oven and sat them onto some parchment paper.

“Alright, just put the raspberry jam on this first layer and like…spread it around.” You nodded, stopping the mixer to see perfectly stiff and fluffy whipped cream.

Joost nodded, slapping the sweet, sugary goodness down onto the first cake and doing his absolute best to spread it around evenly.

Once he was finished, he giggled eagerly before shaking your shoulder and pointing to the cake.

“It was harder than I thought, it was very sticky.” He murmured, watching you as closely as humanly possible while you gently added the whipped cream on top of the raspberry preserves.

“Baking is so deceiving!” You giggled, placing the top layer on the cake once the bottom layer was all done.

“Alright, I’ll let you place the berries and stuff on top for me.” You nodded, handing him the little carton of raspberries and blueberries.

And he took that job so seriously.

You watched him delicately place each and every berry in one specific place, rotating each fruit until it looked amazing. He was so engrossed in decorating the top that you weren’t even sure you could hear him breathe through the deafening silence. 

When he was done, he pushed the cake over to you and smiled.

“Ta-daaa!” He whispered, chuckling under his breath as he leaned his hip against the counter. “I made it for you!”

“Sure you did, Joost. All you.” You chuckled, rolling your eyes.

“Now you have to make a wish.” He murmured, taking out an I heart Joost Klein lighter from his back pocket, lighting in a safe distance away from your face.

“So conceited. Who has a light of themselves?” You chastised, but giggled nonetheless.

“Because everybody loves Joost.” He nodded, watching as you closed your eyes and blew out the flame of his little lighter.

“Happy birthday. I love you.”

“I love you too!”

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#62: The Happy Beginning (1.06)

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Richonne got their much-deserved happy ending, and better yet, I adore that Richonne and their children's happy ending is really a happy beginning. 🥹

Because now, the everyday life with their family truly starts. So rather than feeling solely like a closed chapter, the story lands on a hopeful and positive note that feels like “...and so it begins." The life Rick and Michonne always wanted to live together can now begin again.

So while it’s also a perfect final note for us as we (seemingly) no longer get to go with them into the next chapters, I appreciate that we always get to know that there are more bright and hopeful chapters for our Grimes family, together at last 🙌🏽🎉...

I announced these RIR-TOWL posts on July 21st and now they conclude today, September 21st. And I’m super grateful to you all for reliving this TOWL experience with me in-depth for the last 62 days of summer. 🥹🙏🏽

As you can see, saying I have a novels-worth of thoughts on this show was not hyperbolic. 😅 And that's because if this is it, I wanted to go as all out as I could. And because Danai, Andy, & Scott gave their all in creating this love letter to Richonne, I especially wanted to give my all in dissecting, reflecting, and reveling in The One Who Live. If only those three could know how grateful I am to them for this show because it really was a beacon of light during this time in my life. ☀️

In this real world, I’d say love matters most. It’s what makes life worth living to find people and things you love. Love in its many forms, including in fiction, is worth celebrating and enjoying to the fullest.

So that’s really what I’ve tried to do with all these posts over all these years - celebrate one of my favorite ways I’ve ever seen love take shape. It’s been a joy to watch two beautiful characters inside and out depicting the most beautiful love. Falling in love never looked so exquisite. And finding family never felt so rewarding. 😌

And we're finishing strong as we talk about TOWL's final moment where Rick and Michonne embrace the beautiful family they created. 🥹

So - still hugging, Judith and Rick look over at Michonne and RJ. And on top of it being surreal to see Judith grown up now, you can tell for Rick it’s extra surreal to be looking at this little boy who's comprised of him and Michonne and dressed like Carl. 😭

gif cred: @twdfranchise

That’s something that’s also really cool, is after going on this journey of losing and then regaining the image of Carl, Rick now gets to see this child who is Carl’s little brother and has his attributes. And just like Carl always wore Rick’s sheriff hat to feel close to his dad and strong like his dad, Rick gets to see that his youngest son has also done the same. 

I love that Judith looks at her mom and gives her her flowers saying, “You got him back.” It was a hefty task but Michonne pulled it off and brought home the Brave Man just like she set out to do. And I love how you can tell Judith is very proud of her mom for that.

gif cred: @twdfranchise

Then it's so sweet seeing Michonne smile at Judith and say, “You told me to.” Best mom/daughter duo, y’all. 😭 Plus, TOWL said let us give the viewers one more reminder that Judith wanted her mom to go find their dad. Like this was never an act of abandonment, going after Rick was Michonne’s daughter’s request.

I like how Michonne saying this also feels like she’s saying that knowing her daughter believed she should go was part of the fuel to do it. She did it for her daughter. And for her son. And for her husband. And for herself. For all of them. And Michonne’s giving Judith her flowers too for the way she gave her the push she needed to go get him. 

gif cred: @twdfranchise

I love the way Rick is holding one kid and Michonne is holding the other. You know these four are about to be pretty inseparable for a while.

And then you can visibly see the moment they all realize that the time has come for Rick Sr. to meet Rick Jr. 

gif cred: @twdfranchise

Rick looks at RJ who is smiling up at him while holding onto his mom and then, Michonne has such a happy and proud expression as she presents RJ to his dad.

Michonne definitely has such a sweet “look at this life we made” vibe as she holds onto RJ and steps to the side for the two to have their moment.

It’s sweet how RJ seems understandably reserved at first and holds onto his mom until the last second. And then I love seeing Michonne still keep a comforting arm on her son as Rick stands before him. 

Any time I’d picture Rick and RJ’s first interaction, I always pictured one of the first things RJ would note is that this man in front of him is The Brave Man - and sure enough😊. RJ looks up at Rick and the first thing he sweetly says to his dad is, “You’re The Brave Man?” 

gif cred: @riickgrimes

This moment is surreal for Rick, and surreal for me too because we're finally seeing a scene with Rick and RJ, the son he created with Michonne. 🙌🏽😭 And I'm so so happy that Rick was able to come into RJ's life while he's still so young. Rick will get to have an active role in RJ's core childhood and adolescent memories now.

Then, I adore Rick’s response to his son's first words to him. He’s immediately emotional and so he takes a breath and instantly looks right over at Michonne - the mother of his child. 🥹

I love the way you see him again find his center when looking at her during this emotional moment. Michonne really is like the glue between them all in this scene. And I like how she has her arms wrapped around one or more of her children at all times during this reunion. 

There’s just so much communicated in Rick’s look over at Michonne. It was another "Baby, we made a baby" moment between them as you can see it truly hitting Rick that he's meeting the son he made with his soulmate.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

After Michonne had reassured Rick that he really is the Brave Man that his kids believe him to be along their journey home, I love that Rick now gets to hear it directly from the source. 

Rick then looks back at RJ with so much emotion etched on his face as he responds, “I am.” 😭 He doubted if he was the Brave Man before, but I think especially now hearing his little mini-me say it, Rick knows he too can believe that’s who he is.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

And then I love the way Michonne again expresses how highly she views Rick as she says her final line of TOWL, looking to RJ while holding onto Judith as she smiles and says, “He is.” 🥹

It’s fitting for Michonne's last line to again be one that expresses her utmost belief in Rick. She wants her son to know that this father in front of him really is The Brave Man from years ago and still is The Brave Man right here and now. In fact, now more than ever. 

gif cred: @riickgrimes

RJ smiles over at his mom and then looks back up at Rick just adorably beaming. And it really feels like he’s meeting his hero.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

And then it is precious beyond words when Rick adjusts RJ’s hat just like he’d do with Carl. 🥹

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Rick then leans down and places a hand on RJ's shoulder just like he’d do with Carl too. And I love that Rick is so seamlessly back in father mode.

(Side note: It hit me that Rick will now get to have bonding moments of telling RJ stories about his big brother 😭)

I adore this hat moment between Rick and RJ for so many reasons but especially because we were introduced to Rick Grimes in that hat from the very beginning of TWD. And after going on this years-long whirlwind journey with him, it is so extremely special that Rick's final scene includes him getting to see that hat on his youngest son after it was such a staple to him and his eldest son. 🥲

Rick securing the hat on RJ's head really felt like he wanted his son to know how proud he feels to see him carrying on this Grimes heirloom.

And then Rick so tenderly says, “But maybe you can call me Dad.” 😭😭😭😭😭😭

gif cred: @riickgrimes

I love that Rick is so ready and eager to be a dad to his son. And I just know he and RJ will have such an incredible bond. Like Judith and Carl definitely felt like true blue Michonners lol, and RJ is too, but I also like to think RJ’s going to end up really gravitating to Rick. I can fully envision them being a super close father and son. 🥰

Then RJ says with certainty, “I knew you’d come back.” And I love the framing of this scene where you can see all four family members in the shot as they look at the youngest member of the Grimes.

It’s so sweet the way Michonne and Judith are holding each other tight and the way Rick has that fatherly hand on RJ’s shoulders as he looks right at him, likely still marveling that he’s looking at his own flesh and blood right now. 

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

And when RJ says he knew Rick would come back, they all look curious about how the adorable baby of the family knew this. So Rick says his final line of TOWL as he asks RJ, “How?”

Y'all, I love that this is what Rick says for his last line because again, it makes me think of the end of season 4 - the pivotal era when Richonne fell in love with each other - and the classic scene where Michonne says she knows Rick's okay and he asks her "How?"

And just like back then when Michonne gave a beautiful answer to Rick's question and said, "Cause I'm okay too," - Their baby boy RJ also has a beautiful answer to Rick's question.

RJ replies with the final line of TOWL, saying, “I believed.” 

The sentiment of RJ revealing that he too was believing a little longer this whole time is so special. 🥹 And it's touching that Rick and Michonne's son gets the last line of this epic love story.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

RJ saying 'I believed' is beautiful because he’s what his parents believed in for the future all those years ago and now his mom and dad get to hear that he believed in them back.

It’s heartwarming thinking first Rick had to believe a little longer that he’d reunite with his family, and then Michonne had to believe a little longer that Rick would reunite with their family, and then they get to see that even the child they created was believing right along with them. A child born from their belief.

As two characters fueled by believing, it really is powerful to see the final note being Rick and Michonne's son doing just that - believing his dad would find his way back to their family. That's the very mission Rick went on since the pilot of this franchise, and his story ends with him succeeding. Rick found his family and isn't going to be taken away from them this time. 🥹

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Rick seems deeply moved to hear his son say this and so he has this emotional smile at him and you can tell he so badly wants to finally hug his son. But again he lets RJ set the pace. And RJ sets the pace perfectly with the best hug. 😭

I adore the way this little boy hugs his dad for the first time. It just was so moving and so clear that he’s been wishing to be able to have his dad in his life for a long time. He needed his father and now here Rick is. 🥲 And Rick wanted this child long ago and now here RJ is.

Seeing Rick finally getting to hold his son, his 'other way to build for the future,' - it's clear Rick needed this too. 🥹

gif cred: @nat111love

Rick really is RJ's hero already, so RJ embraces him fully. And, of course, Rick is immediately reciprocal as he embraces his son and kisses his hat. 😭

I think about how Rick gave Carl that hat after he'd been shot in the woods. Giving Carl the hat was one of the ways Rick aimed to comfort his son during an extremely trying time. And then Carl wore that hat everywhere after. And when he died, it was hard for Rick to even look at the hat. But now the hat has become a positive symbol again as Rick gets to kiss the hat on his youngest son and honor the memory of his oldest son.

It’s so evident Rick and RJ already love each other. And I applaud both actors for only having one hug to show how much they love each other and pulling it off so completely. This Rick and RJ hug is everything, truly. 🥹🙌🏽

I love the way the theme music swells and rises as Rick and RJ stay in that heartfelt embrace, never wanting to let go. And I love Michonne and Judith’s reaction to seeing these boys finally get to meet and appear so instantly bonded. Rick's family means everything to him and in this scene, he gets to see that he means everything to them too. 🥹

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Judith’s emotional response to seeing her little brother meet and hug their dad always puts a lump in my throat. 🥲 Again, it was the perfect big sister-type response. She’s probably felt like a stand-in mom for RJ while Michonne was gone and has been really protective of him and just again wants to know he’s okay. And it’s like in this reunion moment she’s aware that her baby brother really will be okay because now RJ gets to experience a family with both his parents, like she did when she was younger.

And Michonne just seems so happy to see her husband and son be so instantly connected. It has to be the greatest feeling ever to know that this baby she brought into this world alone will now have his father who adores him in his life.

And to see the love of her life, who she knows has been through so much, including the loss of Carl, get to now embrace his son and be a father to their kids again like he most cherished and was devoted to being. 🥹 Michonne so earnestly wanted Rick to have the chance to see the beautiful family they created. And now Rick is seeing it fully. And that visibly brings Michonne's heart pure joy. 

gif cred: @kris-lulu

So then, after Rick and RJ get their own moment with this wonderful hug, Michonne and Judith join in for a family group hug and it’s just the epitome of a joyous conclusion for Rick and Michonne and the Grimes family’s story. I adore it. 🙌🏽

Michonne and Judith wrap their arms around Rick and RJ and Michonne and Rick share their final sweet and super married-with-kids kiss. I love the way Michonne smiles as they lean in for the kiss. 😊 And the way Rick of course doesn't stop at one as he leans in for the second kiss. 😋

It's great that after over 100 TOWL kisses they still included one more. It's only right to end the show with a kiss since, again, it's canonically one of Rick and Michonne's absolute favorite things. 😊

gif cred: @riickgrimes

This last kiss is really special because it just again feels like Rick and Michonne having a moment to acknowledge that despite all the odds and obstacles over their many years in TWD, their many years apart, and then on their TOWL journey reuniting - they overcame, fell in the deepest love, and created this beautiful family together.

And now they get to live out their lives with this blissful Grimes family, loving on each other as hard as they can while they can. 🙌🏽

This family hug is just such a sweet moment of connection. I adore the way it’s filmed where it feels like Rick is holding his family and his family is holding him back. The shot with all three of their arms on Rick’s back is art. After a long and epic journey, these three are Rick Grimes' incredible reward. 🥹

(Side note: one of the things I think Rick probably will most like about Michonne's wedding ring is that it can be seen from a very far distance which means everyone from even miles away will know Michonne is taken lol.)

And then we get one more confirmation that Richonne are and always have been magnets. 🧲 Because as the camera pans out from the greatest family hug in history, Rick and Michonne both lower their arms down at the exact same time and do that little comforting thumb rub. You know my extra self is always here for even the subtlest of magnetic synchronicity between the two.

Y'all, this really is the perfect visual to conclude their story to me. 🥹

gif cred: @lousolversons

Like seeing Michonne with her wedding ring-clad hand holding onto RJ while he holds onto his dad and Judith holds onto her and Rick, fills me with joy and emotion when I think about Michonne's whole journey.

Losing a partner and a young son, Mike and Andre, shutting down and living isolated for a while, showing up to a prison with formula for her future daughter Judith, building such a special bond with her son Carl, falling in love with her soulmate Rick, becoming a great leader, and resiliently bringing another son into the world, RJ. She's been through a lot on her journey and I adore how love and family found her and wholly embraced her as she fully embraced them right back.

Michonne Grimes' journey ending with her wrapping her arms around her babies and husband is just beautiful. 🥹🙌🏽

I also love that Judith and RJ will now get to experience their mom having the love of her life back in her life. The kids will see their mom happier and more loved than they’ve ever seen her now that Rick is back with them.

The Michonne they knew was one who was resiliently trying to live in the thick of a unique, lonely, and crippling grief. But now she can be all of her again because her other half has returned and is fully prepared to make up for lost time and love on her and their kids the way they all need.

gif cred: @nerd4music

And seeing Rick be so loved and held by his family after everything in his journey means the world. 🥹

Waking up from a coma to learn the world had ended, refusing to succumb to defeat as he searched for his family, finding the people closest to him from the world before, Carl, Lori, and Shane, and then having to put together that Lori and Shane had fallen for one another in his brief absence. Experiencing the relationship with Lori and Shane crumble and result in death (one of which he had to kill because his 'brother' tried to kill and replace him), going through a mental breakdown but still having to lead, protect, and raise his young son and his newborn Judith.

Then, meeting the love of his life Michonne when she shows up at the prison fence, trying to have opposition with her at first but then falling head over heels in love with her, and no longer having to carry the weight of the world alone because now he has a soulmate who can lead him, lead others, love his children, and love him back to life time and time again. Losing his son Carl twice, realizing his son and family were always with him, and then getting to look in the eyes of his youngest son and finally hold RJ.

Along his journey, Rick endured many opponents, adversity, and painful losses, including losing himself when stripped of his family for nearly a decade. He had many fascinating arcs, many ups and downs, and managed to keep his signature good kind heart intact which is true strength. And no matter who thought they were bigger, better, or badder than him, Rick always proved to be the bravest. And it's the love for his family that made him brave and made him ultimately come out on top.

So Rick Grimes' journey ending with his wife, daughter, and youngest son back in his arms and loving him like he never left is just perfect. 😭🙌🏽

gif cred: @riickgrimes

That final image of the four of them in this family hug amid the lush greenery truly looks like the embodiment of ‘things break but they can still grow.’ And this whole new plant - this wonderful family Richonne grew - is so well-deserved. Rick and Michonne truly triumphed.🎉

I think about how in 9.03 the song that played over their Family Fun Day with Judith was "All We Ever Wanted Was Everything" and seeing the Grimes family hugging and happy at the end of TOWL is all I ever wanted for them. 🥹

(That's part of why my stance on the future is - whatever it looks like, be it Richonne returning in a quick cameo, or returning for even more than that, or not returning at all, I just want Richonne and their kids to be happy, together, and at peace).

Also, I’m telling you right now, from here on out if Rick can’t get to someone named Michonne, Judith, or RJ within 5 minutes or less, he’s going to feel he’s gone too far away because you know he’s about to be attached to the hip to his family. 😊

I really feel like Rick is going to live out his life just healthily & happily obsessed with his wife and kids and so deeply grateful to Michonne every time he looks at their family and the life they have. Like the way he stays giving Michonne her flowers, you know he’s never going to forget that it was her fighting for him and their kids that allowed them to live out this beautiful life they have now.

As the camera pans out, the four stay in this embrace and it’s just such a bright and rewarding shot. Then they show the sky as helicopters are seen flying ahead, no longer with bombs but with resources. As people noted, Richonne would be the type to not just bring themselves back home but bring back whole helicopters with loads of valuable resources too. Baddest to ever do it. 👑

Seeing the sky with those helicopters is a reminder that the world has gotten a lot bigger since those early TWD days. And after having everything but the kitchen sink thrown their way along their path, here Richonne stand, with their son and daughter, happy, healed, and whole because they’re the ones who live and the ones whose love lives on forever. 

And while this might be the end for us getting to follow their story, I again appreciate that Richonne's story closes with not just a happy ending but a happy beginning. The best years are ahead of them now that they get to all be together. And you know this gorgeous family uniting makes Carl beam from ear to ear up above. 😇

Oh and there’s also that deleted Grimes family picnic scene which is a canon moment to me. And I adore it. 🤩 I’d been hoping they’d return to doing those lovely family picnics so I was glad they filmed one. Also, it makes me so happy to remember that RJ is a part of both this current Family Fun Day picnic and the precious one from years before. 😊

In this unaired TOWL picnic scene, I love seeing Judith laughing and relishing Mom and Dad being back with them like she always believed they’d be. She grew up on these Family Fun Day picnics and now years later she gets to enjoy them again. 🥲

I love seeing intelligent little RJ holding the Rubik's cube and wearing the signature Grimes Sherrif's hat in between his mom and sister. And I especially love seeing RJ already seem so comfortable and smiley with Rick. (I love how they said the young actor Antony really gravitated to Andy. 🥹 This picnic clip definitely gave a glimpse of that)

I love seeing Michonne wearing that pretty and colorful dress and smiling so brightly with her family reunited. The flowy outfit choice is meaningful to me because, at the top of TOWL, she was given this guarded armor and similarly had to live with figurative guarded armor since Rick’s TWD departure. But now that she’s got her loving husband and kids back she gets to just fully take down all armor and be so free, open, safe, and loved as a woman, wife, and mother. 🙌🏽

And I love seeing Rick look so relaxed, playful, and elated to be here with his wife and kids. He looks like he's once again winning that Husband & Dad of the Year title. And the way he’s smiling and laughing basking in this moment, you can see he adores his family so much. This Grimes family moment is everything Rick and Michonne wanted for their lives. And this is everything I wanted for them too. 🥹

gif cred: @nessawakenobi

In the actual TOWL ending, as they panned out from the Grimes family hug, it doesn’t feel like they're becoming distant from us but rather we’re seeing the full picture and letting the Grimes family love fill the entire space.

And as the Grimes family embraces and fills the screen with love, the music rises and the show fades to black, officially concluding The One’s Who Live. 👏🏽😭 BEAUTIFUL. 

That also concludes the TOWL season finale revelings and The Ones Who Live revelings as a whole. We made it! 🥳 What a series. What a journey. What a gift Richonne is. 🥹

You know I gotta happy dance one more time over Richonne, TOWL, and the epic love story we've been blessed to witness from 2012 when Michonne and Rick's paths first crossed to 2024 when their love story reached its highest heights, and concluded perfectly.

If you had told me when I started documenting my Richonne observations back in 2017 that years later there would be a whole miniseries dedicated to Richonne’s epic love story, I would have been pleasantly surprised but I’d also believe you because Richonne is truly the gift that keeps on giving. 🎁

I adore how TOWL really came and checked so many of the Richonne wishlist boxes. Rick calling Michonne his wife ✓, the proposal and wedding ring ✓, the RJ reveal ✓, the improved lighting ✓, the scenes with impactful, unvague, and rich dialogue ✓, the intimacy ✓, the Grimes family reunion ✓, the Grimes family reunion with all the original actors ✓, and much more. They gave Richonne their things, honey. 👏🏽😌

And I especially love the way The Ones Who Live ultimately landed on a message of love being what comes to the rescue when the world falls apart. Love is what it's all about at the end of the day.

Along their years-long journey, the way Richonne fell in love was beautiful. And the way they stayed in love was just as beautiful. I’m so grateful to have witnessed Rick and Michonne Grimes' powerful journey from first locking eyes at a prison fence in season 3 to looking into each other's eyes with such adoration and appreciation as they agreed to have a child together in season 9. To now reuniting with that lovely child and their dear daughter in TOWL.

Rick and Michonne have remained such captivating characters over the years, and so much of that has to do with the incredible artists that bring them to life.

Andy and Danai are generational talents with such compatible gifts - exceptional eye acting, line delivery, vulnerability, physicality, and raw honesty infused in their craft. And then you add to that playing compelling characters in love, allowing them to tap into their rare and extraordinary chemistry. You’re bound to get something special when pairing them together like this. 👏🏽

So I'm grateful to the whole TOWL cast & crew, and most of all the captains - Andy, Danai, and Scott. We really got to see Richonne through their eyes with TOWL. 🥹 And the way those three view Richonne and bring this love story to life is resplendent. I love that with The Ones Who Live they told the story they wanted to tell - and we Richonne fans were just happily in alignment with the vision. 😌

They’re the type who put thought into even something like Rick and Michonne's hand placement in bed at the end of TWD 6.10 because they care about how Richonne is portrayed in every frame. And I will forever appreciate their attention to detail with Richonne. All these RiR posts really are my way of saying that the thought and care put into crafting these exceptional characters and their exemplary love story don't go unnoticed.

Andy and Danai have given us so much as Rick and Michonne over the years so whether this is 'goodbye for good' or 'goodbye for now,' I respect it.

The iconic roles of Rick and Michonne were truly meant for them. Danai and Andy approached these characters with love, respect, thoughtfulness, and passion, and ensured Rick and Michonne were in good hands. So I just can't thank them enough. 🙏🏽🥹

Also, a big thank you to the gifted Richonne GIF creators. 👏🏽🤩 You are invaluable staples to this fandom and your gifs of Richonne's TOWL & TWD moments are beautiful. Linking to your amazing gifs helped me elevate these posts and string this all together. My posts wouldn't be the same without you, so I'm very grateful to you. 🙏🏽

And sincerely thank you to everyone who took the time to read these posts and to everyone who commented, messaged, PM'd, reblogged, and followed. Your thoughtful insights, reactions, and support really have always made the days brighter both over the last two months and over all these years of reveling in Richonne.

Hearing your takes on Richonne helped me see things from an even fuller perspective. Hearing that these breakdowns were looked forward to and even uplifting to read during hard times really moved me and made me feel less alone since reflecting on Richonne has also helped me focus on the bright things in this world when life feels dark. I've loved hearing what you love about TOWL and about these RiR posts. Thank you for sharing with me. 🫶🏽 Your words of encouragement have meant a lot to this Words of Affirmation girl. 😊

There were times when I was working away at these posts and wondering if I'm certifiably crazy for writing whole 'dissertations' on every second of Richonne's love story. 😅 (i think the answer is yes lol). But the encouragement I'd receive over here was a big motivator to follow through, give every scene its flowers, and share these in-depth breakdowns with you all. So please know that you and your good kind heart are super appreciated. 🙏🏽 I hope you remain blessed in all ways and on all days. 💗

And to Future Me - hi 👋🏽 I wrote these TOWL novel-length breakdowns for the fandom and for you too. For those times when you’ll want to make your day a bit better by revisiting these posts and remembering all the thoughts and elation you had over Richonne - your favorite thing - shining the brightest it’s ever shined in a 6-episode epic love story. 🌟

Rick and Michonne Grimes and their captivating story are extremely dear to my heart and always will be. And this miniseries that gave them and their love the spotlight means so much. The Ones Who Live is a true treasure, and I’m so glad we’ll have it forever. 🥹🙌🏽

After hundreds of 'dissertations' and years of pursuing a Ph.D in Richonne (😋📚🎓), I just have to say that breaking down the beginning, middle, and end of this epic love story with this fun and insightful fandom has been such a joy. Has me feeling like...

There will be people who come around to watching TWD/TOWL now or years later who weren’t keeping up with the show when it first aired. And some of those people are bound to get bit with the Richonne bug just like I did several years ago.

So my hope is that anyone, be it new Richonners or long-time Richonners, whoever wants to reminisce and revel and relive each and every moment of Rick and Michonne’s iconic, powerful, and stunning journey can always come back to these RiR breakdowns whenever, and feel like they’re 'read-watching' the show, and dissecting and celebrating whatever is beautiful about Richonne with a good friend. Because Richonne is timeless and a little reveling is good for the soul.

I hope these plenty of posts brought and continue to bring enjoyment, insight, laughs, light, and just the best warm feelings because in the words of my beloved Michonne - It did for me. 😌

Always and forever, thank you so much for reading & Long Live Richonne. 👑🧲🥰👌🏽

[bananachipfantasy]

The LGBTQ community is something very present in criminal case, there are a lot of characters in the community, there's a lot of representation and that makes me feel happy and proud. Nobody is hurting anyone, there's nothing dangerous in it.

So, why hate and discriminate against characters in the community? Why deny them their identity? Why force them into something they are not? In a community full of love and respect, how can there be room for homophobia? If you can't even tolerate and handle the representation of two girls in a romantic relationship, then you shouldn't be here.

Nothing can justify your hate against the LGBT community. There are a lot of straight characters to ship together, why would you choose to ship a lesbian with a guy? That's just stupid. Why would you be so mad over it? No matter how much you hate LGBT representation, they will still be part of the community! And if you don't like it, well, you shouldn't be in the fandom then. There is no room for homophobia here.

I'm really happy and proud with the representation of our community in criminal case, and I would never change that! :)

They're my pookies. 🤍

[ghouldtime]

I just followed you based solely on an ask you responded to because I very much vibe with a Ghost who walked into a craft store for paint and came out with two new hobbies.

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚 AHH THANK YOU SO MUCH!!

I'm a proud 'Simon "Ghost" Riley is just A Dude ©' Truther

I love seeing that where he is just living a nice domestic life. I usually write spooky AU's or things with the paranormal but he's always just a dude there too, I like keeping him like that!!

To me, I can never look at him flat on and agree with the version of Ghost that people usually write (no shame to those who do, keep doing whatever makes you happy - it's not personal it's just not my taste) where they make him this ultra edgelord dommy sigma guy where he's always somehow towering over EVERYONE, growls every word, and is just???? That version viscerally reminds me of my early wattpad days or those rlly weird thirst trap biketoks

Like, have you LISTENED when this man speaks? Have you heard his jokes? His sense of humor that he doesn't hide??? Give me the dad jokes, give me the terrible puns that would make you give him a significant side eye if you heard them as his shoulders shake with the laughter he's trying to hold back !!!

Soap implied he made his masks and he probably would have to to make sure that hey, this isn't something flammable. I don't think he'd just buy something that personal to him. Which means he would have to sit down and pull out the paint kit, pull out the Dremel, and get to work

THAT MEANS he has to go buy the art supplies. He has to go shop for them and browse the aisles of paint, holding up two of the bottles, determining if he would rather have Eggshell white or Ivory. And I'm convinced that yes, he knows there's a difference and he'll insist on it and NO it's not the same shade

He sews, he has to. He HAD to have made his mask. Sewing is also a super practical skill when you're out on the field and it helps improve dexterity and coordination so I'm going to say it's likely he does. Sewing is super cool y'all.

So I implore you to imagine him in the fabric store, trying not to get distracted by the seasonal prints or the really ornate shimmery fabrics that you can't help but to look at. I refuse to accept that he hasn't sewn pillows in his house just because he liked a certain fabric and wanted to use it

And I'm going to say he's made a god awful holiday themed mask. It's simultaneously the most ugly thing you've ever set eyes upon and the greatest thing ever too. He's committed to the bit

He's also picked up embroidery because, like sewing, it helps improve your dexterity and keeps your hands busy. It's also practical because how else can people steal your things or confuse them if there's a tiny ghost embroidered on the hem????

He's just a guy and I love imagining Ghost with actual domestic hobbies, being himself, living his life (falling into the trap we all do at some point of going into an art store and finding something interesting to do)

Just A Dude© Ghost is my favorite and I'll never let him go

[m00nymonster]

It All Sounded Interesting

Written for Tideland's On the Loose prompt!

"I'll give you a tour of the station, Three, and if you want we can go to the planet later," Dr. Ratthi said, clearly excited. This was my first time on Preservation Station, and I wanted to make a good impression.

"Yes, Dr. Ratthi," I said. 1.0 told me I didn't have to answer humans if I didn't want to anymore, but old habits die hard. Dr. Ratthi gave me a sad half smile.

"Ratthi is fine, Three."

"Yes, Ratthi."

It felt strange to address a human so informally. A lot of things were strange now that I was rogue. Freedom in general was strange.

"I--oh. Just a minute." Dr. Ratthi got a vague look on his face, and turned away, subvocalizing as he did so. I looked around. 1.0 had told me that humans here didn't know what SecUnits looked like, so they would think I was an augmented human, but 1.0 had also altered its configuration. Perihelion had offered a similar treatment, and while I had declined a physical alteration (not being SecUnit standard bothered me and I didn't know why) I had altered my code to grow my hair out. Still, it was strange to look at the humans through a fringe of hair.

So many things were strange, now.

I looked around, and realized Dr. Ratthi had walked away, probably assuming I was following along behind. A transport docked and a flood of humans deboarded, chattering amongst themselves, separating me further. I could ping Dr. Ratthi, ask him where he was. I could. If I wanted to.

Decisions were hard, so I was proud of myself when I decided not to follow him and instead let the crowd drift me away.

The main discourse was beautifully decorated, with sculptural shapes hanging from the ceiling and both holo and real plants scattered along the pathways, as well as many comfortable looking chairs and benches. There were several storefronts, but the one that drew me had a large display of media, including almost an entire wall of nonfiction books. 1.0 found my fascination with nonfiction puzzling--it preferred fiction--but it wasn't here.

A human walked up to me.

"We have digital and paper books," he said, his smile making little wrinkles around his eyes. I was confused.

"Paper?"

"Yes! We sell all genres. Are you a history fan?"

I wasn't sure how to answer this, but as I said, old habits die hard.

"I'm not sure."

"Hmm. Well, I have several interesting books if you want to find out! The most popular here of course is the story of Preservation, but I have other polities as well as the Corporate Rim."

It all sounded interesting.

"All of it, please," I said.

"All of it?"

At his expression I hesitated. This seemed like an unusual request. 1.0 had told me to not behave unusually.

"Just Preservation," I amended. The man beamed.

"No, no, always happy to encourage a fellow history enthusiast! Which would you like first?"

Dr. Ratthi found me an hour later, browsing the last of the nonfiction selection. I had already downloaded all the history books the man in the shop had recommended, and now was looking at biographies.

"There you are!" he said, out of breath. "I was looking everywhere for you!"

"Ah, is this your friend? I must say, this young person is a voracious reader! Quite commendable!"

Ar Dr. Ratthi's glance I looked down.

"1.0 gave me a hard currency card," I said meekly. It would not have understood why I actually paid for the books instead of just downloading them, but according to it I also didn't have to justify my decisions to anyone anymore.

Dr. Ratthi smiled. "If you want more I'll cover it," he said. The shopkeeper smiled widely.

Later, when I'd left with as much as Dr. Ratthi and my hard currency card could afford, Dr. Ratthi laughed.

"I'll say this, SecUnits certainly aren't predictable. Set you loose and you buy half the bookstore!"

I wasn't sure what to say to this, so I didn't. It was nice.

[puckinghischier]

ok i honestly feel like a really big part of what makes us love nico as a girl dad is that he doesnt really take himself tooooo seriously you know? like, if his kid wants to put makeup and glitter on him, then he'd let them and he'd even suggest colors that he'd like to be on him! and if his kid wants to tie his hair up with bows and put stickers on his gym bag and stick? then he'd highly encourage them to do so and buy them a whole back of bows and stickers!

oh he’s such a silly goofy little guy and it’s definitely part of his appeal and charm

but that goofy silly side when it comes to his kids??? no joke is too silly. no act is too goofy. he is a proud member of the “well my kid wanted me to so…” club when he comes to the rink with neon pink finger nails or a bow clipped in his hair.

he would send his little girl pictures of him in all his gear with his matching red eye shadow and red hair bow before he takes to the ice for practice, not caring if the eye shadow leaks into his eyes while on the ice. as long as she knows he dad is proud to wear her creations, that’s all that matters.

he would tell her, too, that all of his teammates love her looks and designs she draws on him. she would get so excited she’d ask if she could take her stuff and set up a table in the hallway outside of the locker room, offering her uncles free make overs before or after practice. nico makes it happen (as if there’s anything he wouldn’t make happen for her) and soon the entire team is walking around with red and black make-up all over their faces. observing his teammates gearing up for practice, his heart swells with how much his team loves his little girl, and how happy she is that she got to give everyone a “pretty daddy make-over”. it doesn’t matter that the amount of glitter all over the locker room will likely still be there even after every man on the roster has retired.