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[endearng]

Loner to lover

Pairing: young!Spencer Reid x professor!reader Summary: Running away from your problems is said to be irresponsible, but it just might lead you to where you need to be; to whom you must be with and, utterly, to the one you're supposed to be. WC: 10.1k Warnings: jealous spencer (a warning of its own) unspecified age gap; infidelity; smut in the form of soft and vulnerable sex between two virgins - (p in v), creamp*e (sorry), softdom!spencer, dacryphilia if you squint. Let me know if I missed anything. A/N: I had to use the frightening 'L/N'. Sorry sorry sorry. Also I just know Spencer is a little shit when encouraged so... he's a bit insistent here............ anyways I love this do much and I hope you enjoy reading it as well. | Masterlist

Spencer remembers the time when you first met. The reason, happenstance and the enormous range of mixed feelings that it brought him.

Early twenties. Collecting BAs for fun. Dr. Spencer Reid thought of a social life second, third, fourth... whatever position behind his education. His responsibility and intelligence were mere details compared to his application to his studies, which was a trait that made him singular to every single one of the professors whose classes he chose to take. Quick and smart remarks, useful contributions, thought-provoking ideas, you name it; there wasn't a single good student expectation that Spencer couldn't meet. In the academic world, the young man was highly recommended and wanted by any and every superior who wanted a good insight on their research, and that was saying a lot — society's greatest minds would compete for that brilliant brain in hopes to have his attention and participation on their projects. Spencer Reid, to his colleagues, was a walking experiment: that guy was able to keep up with his classes, the research programs he was invited to be a part of (they were jealous of this particular information, because they had to almost literally fight their way into a internship) and, on his free time, he had the nerve to feed his curiosity and come up with even more ideas of his own.

A brilliant, lonely heart amidst a crowded sea of people who were mainly too focused on themselves to notice him, unless it was to compare themselves to the absolute success he was among the academic world.

Given his mild demeanor, it is no surprise that his professors would trust him anything and that he easily won their hearts over — he remembers attending dinners at their places when they were particularly close to him; Spencer was not a stranger to a safe proximity to his mentors, after all, they were his only friends. So, it was with a dreadful surprise that he received the news that his favorite professor and advisor, Dr. Brown, would retire. Immediately, Spencer thought, with a frown on his face, that nobody could replace him. Plus, it would be disencouraging to go to those classes with someone he didn’t even know. The news had dampened his mood, to say the least, and he was ready to protest.

"Don't worry, Reid," said Dr. Brown, kind eyes wrinkling in the corners as he smiled, sitting on his chair behind his huge desk, "Dr. L/N is a great person, in more ways than one. I'm sure you will be thrilled to work with her."

"I'm not sure. It takes me some time to get used to certain situations."

"I know, but I'm sure you've had to adapt to some unexpected events at some point," retorted the older man, psychologist mode in full swing, "This is no different. And, if I must say, not entirely unexpected. There's only so far a man can go without losing his mind.”

"I suppose so," Spencer muttered, feeling a bit selfish — it wasn't fair of him to put his thoughts before the older man's needs.

Dr. Brown looked at his pupil, who avoided eye contact for most of the time. The professor had taken an almost paternal liking to Spencer as they grew closer after the younger man stood behind in the classroom wanting to ask different and plenty of questions about the spectacle he had just watched, his first one. It was rare, for Mr. Brown, to have and hold a student's attention so uniquely, and it was as rare for Spencer to have someone explain things and welcome his curiosity so openly. Science had bonded them together — being men of science, they knew better than to argue with its effects.

"I was thinking, Spencer. If you're not so busy, you could keep leading the experiments in our lab, helping out our new professor." At that, Spencer's expression turned a bit sour, to which Mr. Brown chuckled, "Trust me, you'll have nothing to worry about. In fact, I think you two are greatly alike."

Spencer let nothing out but a hum of agreement, perking up slightly at that remark. He wanted to ask what the older man meant, but stopped himself, asking instead, "When does she get here?"

"I believe she is settling in her studio as we speak. You'll meet her tomorrow. I wish I could introduce the two of you, but, unfortunately, I leave at 3 a.m."

Exchanging goodbyes and wishes of a safe flight, Spencer left for his dorm, where he busied himself with the papers of the guest professor. Of course, he would not betray his ritual of researching the guest professor to know about their academic background, as well as their field of research, stylistics and projects to check if something would raise his spirits. It didn't matter that he wasn't pleased with the replacement.

Dr. L/N. You were, apparently, a great researcher for the Psycholinguistics area—a branch that made you known in fields such as Education, Criminology, Psychology, Linguistics, Communication... The list was endless. If he was honest, he felt a little baffled—and embarrassed—that he hadn't done any research on your contributions thus far. A mind like yours should get a recognition beyond any borders. Once he got a glimpse of your brain and what it could do, he was gone. Your resume was impeccable: you had studied in different institutions in countries, proficiency in multiple languages, uncountable papers and mentions of your name in studies in all the areas above.

He doesn't remember falling asleep or turning off his laptop. However, he remembers that, in dreams, he finds someone, but, strangely, he can't make up a face.

(...)

Walking through a bustling crowd of people always made you winded, the noise and the inevitable bumping too overwhelming for you to handle on top of being somewhere new. So, you preferred to sit and wait in a small, more secluded hall in the building that Dr. Brown said you would find his lab. After the morning rush, the corridors were filled by distant echoes of louder professors or students, which made you calmer; to think you weren't completely alone. Traveling to help out a friend was a much welcomed distraction from what you had left at home, something you weren't quite ready to access just yet. You could remember your shrink's voice as she said that, at times, it was useless to think so ahead of the future.

Unbeknownst to her, you agreed wholeheartedly. It was useless. The moment you could have done something for yourself was already lost, long gone, buried by endless hours of work and occupations to keep you from breaking a dam of lonely despair.

Speaking of the past, you slid your golden ring off your wedding finger, letting it fall inside your coat pocket as you made your way through the halls. Upon seeing a door with Dr. Brown's lab small logo on it, you cracked a small smile, remembering the story behind it: you and a bunch of other students trying to come up with a nice, thoughtful gift to encourage the guest professor's new interests. When you opened the door, you found a tall, thin man sitting by the computer desk, apparently engrossed until he heard the click of the lock, finding your eyes with equal parts startle and wonder, lips parted gently, surprise etched all over his pretty face.

The young man had innocent, almost bambi-like eyes. It was the first thing you had noticed about him. Staring at you, hazel eyes so expressive that you were sure he could speak through his glance alone.

After the initial surprise, you thought you knew who he was, having heard all about Dr. Brown’s new favorite student and mentee. Spencer Reid, who seemed to study for leisure, deeply intelligent and reliable. No wonder he was in the lab, settling everything so that he would be helpful. It was a faithfully vivid image, much like the one that had settled into your brain when your colleague had described who he was working with.

"Dr. L/N."

"Dr. Reid."

Your unison voices mingled in the air. You walked up to where he was, holding out a hand for him to shake. Dazedly, he stood up, taking your hands in his, which made you smile at him, appreciating his politeness. Spencer, on the other hand, felt frozen.

Whatever it was that he, at some point, imagined you would look like, it was nothing compared to the real thing. All your features seemed to be mathematically, precisely calculated to form one of the most beautiful and soft complexions he had ever laid his eyes upon. You spoke again, no longer blocked by his own voice, so gently that it was almost as if he was being physically touched by your voice. Your accent was not strong, but it was perceptible, something that he attributed to your multilingual abilities. "Sorry to barge in like that. It's nice to meet you. Dr. Brown told me a lot about you," you revealed, still smiling.

"It's okay. Nice to meet you too.” Tongue-tied. He felt illiterate, close to a woman who he was not supposed to have certain types of thoughts around. You breathed out a huff of amusement at his widened eyes.

There was a bit of an awkward silence when you both noticed that none of you had let go of the other's hand yet. With a clear of your throat and his fugitive glance, you both composed yourselves, retreating from your touch. "He said," you started with a chuckle, "and I quote, that you are now his eyes, ears, hands and brain in here. So, beforehand, I want to say that I truly appreciate your support and help." You said, politely, to which he smiled nervously with a shaky nod.

"It's no problem, really. Dr. Brown is one of the greatest here and it'd be naive of me to not accept his request."

You grinned, agreeing. "Yeah, he is a great man. Well, I believe you are more familiar with all the devices than I am." You said, motioning to the set-up behind him. "I do have these back at my university, but yours is a bit different from what I can see. I suppose they work the same way, but, to be honest, I don’t want to mess anything up."

Spencer blinked, scientist mode on full swing. "Yeah, yeah." He nodded, looking at her again. "You don't have to worry, I was just checking the last details before starting the experiments. Everything is already settled, but I can talk you through it if you want to conduct the experiment by yourself at some point.” He trailed. Curiously, he added, “If I may ask, what made you interested in this research?"

Your heart's happiness bursted into sparkles in your eyes as you smiled, glad that he asked you about it. You talked him through it, giving him specific details as he sat and listened like you were the most brilliant brain in the entire world. As you talked, he remembers feeling his lips twitching up in a small smile. Once you were done, encouraged by your honesty and heartfelt explanation, he revealed with a faint dust of pink on his cheeks, "I know. I, um, I searched and read some of your papers last night.”

"Really?" You asked, cordial.

"I try my best to get to know my professors' fields before meeting them. It's a way I found to keep my brain entertained and to get ready for what's coming next." He admitted softly, mentally patting himself on the back for not stuttering.

"That is a good approach. I must say I wish I had that kind of mindset when I was your age."

"It’s okay. You've been doing a great job."

Silence. Understanding from both parts.

"But... to answer your question, I have been really interested in working with language lately, more than usual, at least." You chuckled softly. Spencer couldn't stop his own grin at your enthusiasm, eager to hear your voice.

You agreed once he offered to show you how their device worked, sitting on the chair in front of it. Spencer motioned for you to go ahead and place your chin on the small stand. He took notice of your hands when you placed them on the desk, bitten nails and small, red spots on their edges. It concerned him, but he brushed it off, thinking it could have been a simple nervous habit, knowing he had no business asking or worrying about you. You were his professor, after all. "Whenever I lead this experiment with my students, they always tell me they feel like they are at the ophthalmologist."

Spencer chuckled. "Yeah. It does feel like it. You can't even move an inch."

You followed the instructions on the computer screen so that the device would follow your eye movements. It worked quickly, which made you pleasantly surprised and it was hard to hide it from your tone, "This is faster than any other I have tried before."

"Welcome to our university."

As you worked on the experiment, answering to the commands on the scream silently, the device following your orbs, Spencer took his time to study your features. Your hair was neatly up in a ponytail, dainty earrings adorning your ears that matched your gentle features. All your sharpness, if you had any, was in your eyes. An intense gaze that made him falter a bit, as if his brain had the need to stop for a second to store the sight of your gaze on him to remember it for good. Your movements were calm and collected, and, ironically, you looked rather young to be a doctor.

Once you had finished, you didn't pull away immediately from the device. The computer could no longer pinpoint where your eyes were, because then they were directed at Spencer instead glancing at him as if studying him, taking him in to remember his features like a quote that you knew by heart. As he turned to look at you, he started explaining how to save a volunteer's progress and, honestly, you were only half listening, focusing on his mild mannerisms, voice and use of language. You nodded here and there, absentmindedly storing that information. You two departed after exchanging some more information, mostly him guiding you through the campus, talking about each department and what was the fastest and best way to get to the building you were staying at.

Spencer remembers going home with renewed interest. He couldn't help but think about the way you portrayed yourself, the way you talked and moved, almost as if you were an ethereal being that was placed on Earth by an unfortunate mistake. Even though he had been unable to come up with a face for you last night as he read your thoughts, you had been an enchanting surprise. Unable to stop the thought, he gave it some indulgent room: you would, somehow, be a distraction. And he was crazy to get to know in which way.

A couple days went by without Spencer seeing you. You were quite busy yourself with the lectures you were planning and teaching. That morning, though, he had found you teaching Dr. Brown's previous class. It was surprising, and mildly irritating, to see that the class was the most crowded it had ever been. Taking a good look around and listening to a few comments that bothered him to no end, he found out the reason. Some of them wanted to simply see you. The thought was like being bathed in scorching water. He chose to sit in the front, because he thought, petulant, that you would know and remember his face and his face alone. As you entered the classroom and greeted the students with a warm good morning, you were pleasantly surprised to see Dr. Reid in the front row.

After neatly arranging your belongings on the desk, you started your class on the dot. “Hello, everyone. I am professor L/N and I am here to take over Dr. Brown's class.” You started, voice precisely clear. “Now, I understand that some of your colleagues might be running late for some reason. I don't mind if you are late at some point, but try not to make it a habit because it might disrupt our class. I do tend to start my lectures on the dot in respect to those who managed to get here on time. Today, we will talk about…”

You spoke gently, but you had your boundaries set and clear, which made Spencer squirm a bit. Seeing you so sure of yourself, so assertive, made something stir deep within him. Besides, the dumbstruck look of the many students gave him enough clue that he was not the only one feeling a little affected by you and your ways. As you went on and on about the topic, you gestured with your pretty hands, making smart remarks and cracking some light jokes that made everyone a lot less nervous around you. The new, pretty professor.

The topic, behavior, sounded redundant, at that point, because he had studied that subject over and over again, tiringly, exhaustingly, but there was just something about the way you spoke, about your mannerisms that he couldn't look away. You had a way with words, and he was fascinated by how you managed to make some more complex subjects so understandable to students, even if you sometimes drifted deeper into a certain concept, only to go back to them later. He couldn't even speak. The class was relieved while he was troubled.

“Huh, that's odd. Half of you are not in the roll.” You commented, turning the lights back on. “Is this correct?” You muttered to yourself, afraid that maybe you had the data of another class instead.

A girl suddenly spoke up, “Many of us are auditing.”

“Oh?” You wondered. “How many of you?”

Quickly calculating, Spencer bitterly noticed that about 70% percent of the class raised their hands. He wanted to think that it had to do with the fact that these people weren't around for Professor Brown. You smiled, warmly. It was a punch to the gut. “Well, I hope you enjoyed the lecture.

It was when the students slowly exited the class that he was able to reach you, gathering your papers and looking content. Sharply gentle eyes, impeccable posture and pristine clothes found his gaze and he found that he didn't want to look at anything else. He didn't seem to be ready to have that small heart attack every morning. He felt equal parts of embarrassment and a flutter on his belly. He approached you calmly, and as you greeted him, there was a warm look on your face. "Hi. Good morning, Dr. Reid.”

“You did a great job,” he blurted out, voice a bit strained. You only pretended you didn't notice. “Good morning.” He remembered to greet you back. Nice.

Your voice was low as you muttered a soft "thank you."

"Of course." He said, fiddling with the strap of his bag.

"I never asked... What is your field?” You inquired, curiously, grabbing your bag and walking side by side with him, exiting the room.

Spencer had that answer nearly tattooed on his brain. “I have PhDs in Chemistry, Engineering and Mathematics,” he started, nonchalantly, as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I also have a BA in Sociology and Philosophy. This is my third one, Psychology.”

“How old are you?” You blurted out, baffled.

“23. I, uh, I graduated from school at the age of 12.”

You stood there, speechless. Of course you knew that that was possible in some countries, but the casualness in his tone got to you more than his exceptional educational background. “That is… unreal.” You whispered. “You are so young and… and… You are still absorbed with learning.”

He chuckled, shrugging, delighted by your compliment. “Yeah, I guess… Not many people would make the same choices as I would.”

Your entire body froze, including your hidden hand, because his words had hit a particular spot within you. You gave him a nod, agreeing. “Well, it is still impressive.”

“I appreciate it.” He said, looking down and missing the slight dejection on your face. Nevertheless, his heart fluttered at the praise coming from you.

Shaking off the dark thoughts, you started again, “If I may ask, why did you switch from STEM to Humanities?” You asked, now mildly amused as he looked at you, taking the stairs with him to the office. Occasionally, your shoulders brushed.

“Curiosity.”

“Is that all?” You asked, puzzled.

“I was always surrounded with a wide access to books and overall knowledge. My mother was a Literature teacher.” He explained, a small smile gracing his face.

“That must have been nice. You must know a lot about the classics. They are my favorite kind of Literature.”

“They were good distractions, I guess… I wasn't, uh, the most popular kid growing up.” He trailed off.

“Me neither,” you said.

Spencer noticed that you walked with a hand on your pocket, but couldn't say anything about it, too much more focused on the way he seemed to be bathed in a newfound confidence around you. As you reached the office, he quickly placed his belongings on the leather couch by the door. With a low whine of disappointment, which caught your eye, he announced, “If you'll excuse me, I have to get a few books from the library.”

It was better than saying, hey, I was too distracted by you that I forgot that I also have responsibilities.

“Oh, sure. Go ahead. I'll be here.”

“Thanks.”

The door closed with a soft click, and you found yourself all alone again. Taking a look around, you busied yourself by analyzing your surroundings. There was a wall covered by huge, tall, dark shelves, cramped with books. The piece of furniture reached the roof with all sorts of technical literature. A small glass cabinet on the opposite wall showcased trinkets from all over the world, kids drawings and family pictures. A leather couch, cushions and an equally dark wooden desk adorned the room as well. A white light brightened the room, illuminating his titles, and a yellowish one lightened a painting on the wall, made by Dr. Brown's daughter, of the beach they visited frequently. It made you irrationally jealous. The reminder that other people had constant remnants of love was a stab to your chest, and you looked away from the bitter/sweet reminders.

Suddenly, your eyes got a glimpse of Spencer's belongings: technical books, a satchel bag, his coat and a small notebook. You wondered what he would write about in there, whether it was some sort of planner or he just thought out loud on those pages. You fought the urge to touch his stuff, deciding to sit on the couch after shrugging off your coat and laying it close to Spencer's things.

Still plagued by an annoying flicker of envy, you picked your ring, analyzing it with fierce focus between your fingers. The material, white gold, was supposed to adorn your hand for the rest of your life. The only personal thing about it was that it had been custom-made, by demand, just for you. A wedding band was supposed to hold, to be a souvenir of the deepest commitment of love. But as fate would have it, it had been nothing but an object. It held no meaning, since you and your husband easily slid it off when it was convenient.

There was a small date carved on the inside part of the ring. Neither you or Oliver wanted any stronger reminders of each other. To you, he was merely tolerable, and you struggled to feel anything but sorry for him. Despite the fact that you were helplessly coerced into marriage, you despised him for never having the guts of chasing a life, instead busying himself with living the fleeting pleasures that his parents' money provided him, spending his endless vacations overseas, sleeping around. A typical bohemian. A bon-vivant. The fact made you bitter. How does one possess every kind of mean and doesn't care to improve themselves as a person?

Inevitably, you were pulled into a strong stream of memories.

The sun filtered through the curtains, illuminating the dining room that held uncountable and expensive decorations. What caught your eye, though, is a much too long and large table with endless chairs. You remember thinking it was over the top, since neither you or Oliver would plan to have guests over. Swallowing your remarks, you smiled to your father and exchanged a look with your sister-in-law, not bothering to look at Oliver and therefore missing his awestruck look. It was the first time you were visiting the big house with its endless rooms, windows and useless areas. You ignored the subtle meaning of it: you were supposed to carry on your families’ names. The mason had been your parents’ gift, so you decided to stay quiet about it, not commenting on the tacky, outrageous muchness of things. You had learned the hard way not to fight back when it came to their decisions.

From a very young age, you were special. A charming, intelligent, quick-witted child who busied herself with studies and books who had a series of leisure time activities to go through during her free time. Hence, you grew up exceptional. You were always the center of attention somehow; being the first grandkid from both sides of your family granted you a few privileges, you held their entire focus, entertaining them with your particular and curious behavior during their gatherings. Whenever they showed up, your parents would remember some new ability for them to show you off. Playing the piano, chess, languages… You were always in the top of the class, in the best schools, surrounded by kids your age that belonged to the best families.

It was with a deep, heartbreaking sadness that you realized that you had their attention for your potential and everything you could add to their name. Nobody ever played with the first child.

Beautiful, graceful, wistful, clueless little you.

Your family’s connections and endless activities for you had been how you met Oliver in the first place. A smart, easy on the eyes boy who became a smooth talker as he grew older. You were friends from a very young age, but nothing more. You were always too caught up on working on yourself and your abilities in order to charm everyone that romance was something you couldn't even begin to fathom — it was nothing but a strange and distant feeling. You kept things platonic between you and him, spending time, mostly listening. Oliver would tell you all about his interests, and when the age came, he would tell you, rather technically, how his endeavors with other girls went.

You never thought of Oliver as more than a friend. In fact, his manners grew to annoy you, like a small barb in your shoe, if you were totally honest — not that you would dare to. You simply endured his existence, saving your reviles for yourself, because, growing up, you never knew what it was to freely express yourself. How lacking it was to grow up not knowing what it was to speak your mind freely without a strong reprimand of some sort.

Such painful dawnings had only taken place at the age of 20, when your parents and Oliver's had agreed to marry the both of you. Unable to fight back, you simply watched it happen. It was so damaging and traumatic that you could barely remember the times you had spent together, everything was just a big knot of confusing memories to which you felt more like an spectator than an actor. Over the course of the years, Oliver and you would make public appearances, but you had told him, on the first night after your marriage, that he was free to do whatever he wanted, as long as he didn't ruin your image. No. Not the one you had dedicated your entire life building.

Throughout the entire thing, your sister-in-law had been your anchor. A distant one, that sits in the bottom of the sea, as you navigated through your own life. Being too close to you was a sad reminder of your situation and she was aware of that. She had her friends and connections, unknowingly, check on you, though. She was all in for pretending her sad excuse of a brother didn't exist. Theresa and Oliver were polar opposites: a hard-working woman and a sluggish man.

Eventually, as you both moved through the world, engrossed in your true passions, Oliver had truly found someone. Someone you didn't bother learning the name of. Someone, you preferred to think, that didn't know about you and that if she did, she truly didn't care. The feeling was mutual. You, on the other hand, delved deeper into your studies, busying yourself to the fullest. It was nice, in a way, because that way, you were shielding yourself from the world and your inevitable, eternal struggle of a loveless life in the only way you knew how: through being someone.

It was far from a solution, but that's where it ended. It had been years since the last time you heard your name coming from someone else's lips. You didn't dream of it happening anytime soon. You didn't let it happen, anyway. Every advance was cut before it turned into expectations.

A small gasp erupting between your lips broke you out of your reverie when you heard the lock being harshly handled, which made you bolt straight to the door, dropping the ring on the floor. Opening it, you saw Spencer struggling to balance a huge pile of books and a tray with two cups of coffee. He thanked you softly when you offered to help him, your skin touching his briefly, jolts of something unknown coursing through both of your bodies. Pulling away, you placed the books on the desk, searching his eyes as he blushed like crazy.

“I got you coffee… I don't know how you take it, so I got it black with two sugars. There are many options these days, which can make choosing one a challenging decision, since there are undeniable and endless possibilities of you being allergic to some of the ingredients. Of course, there are also chances of cross-contamination. Now that I think about it, I should have probably gotten you tea. Oh, my God. Do you even drink coffee?” He finished, almost panting.

You stifled out a laugh. His ways were endearing. “It's okay, Dr. Reid. I'll drink it. I'm not allergic nor prefer tea over coffee. Okay?”

“Okay.” He said, puppy eyes finding yours again.

“Thank you, by the way. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course.” He said, smiling softly.

It quickly turned into your go-to order.

—

Students came and went, and you made conversation with them, which made you all the more endearing for Spencer. You asked about their day, how they ended up there, and you looked genuinely interested in their answers. It could be a stretch, but Spencer felt that, much like himself, you wanted to make connections — but not the professional kind. You wanted to belong somewhere, from the way your eyes held an intimate and unwavering hint of sadness when you heard their answers, but none of them had the nerve to ask you back. It was expected, though, because no one would think of a professor as a friend. The entire time, you were being addressed as such or as Dr.. You couldn't blame them. That was who you were, too lost in that character to remember who you actually were. If you had been someone, that is.

As Spencer sat behind the computer, ready to access today's tests, you chatted with a freshman student. Glancing at the clock, the girl with excited mannerisms almost shrieked, “Oh, my God! Is it that late already?! I have to go to my piano class.”

“Sorry to hear that,” you said, sounding a bit deflated. “It was nice to meet you, Dana. I'm really happy you've helped us.”

“Anytime, professor! Bye!” She said, walking through the door and closing it behind her.

You turned to Spencer, a hint of longing in your expression. “Are you leaving as well?”

“Not yet. I want to go over our results for the day.”

“Oh!” You exclaimed, approaching him to lean by his side on the desk, supporting your weight on one arm as your other hand touched the back of his chair. He could smell your perfume, something uniquely different, aromatic and so fitting. “Does it compare results automatically?” You asked, turned to look at him.

“Unfortunately, no,” he muttered, unfocused, eyes scanning all over your face, focusing especially on your lips. “I have to do that myself, which is why I'll take longer to leave. If we leave this for the last minute, it'll be much more stressful.”

“Slow and steady it is, then.” You said, grinning. “I'll stay to help you.”

—

Spencer remembers when he started feeling a lot stronger about you.

You were in the office, decorating it as your own. Spencer took notice of your belongings, trying to catch a glimpse of everything that made you yourself. There were abundant novels in many different languages filling the tall shelves, some souvenirs from different parts of the world, your titles… The analytic part of his brain took notice of the lack of family pictures and overall personal items. It was achingly professional and distant, the way you were setting your space. He couldn't help but chime in, “Is that all you're putting up?”

With a lopsided grin, you tried to justify, sensing his intentions. “I don't like cluttering.”

He didn't answer, sensing that it might be sensitive unknown territory. You unboxed a wood chess board, placing it on one of the bottom shelves. He looked at you, a silent question in his eyes. “Just in case someone wants to play,” you said, as you forced a smile that didn't reach your eyes.

The next day, Spencer walked through the office door with a box in hands. He hid it between the sofa and the wall. As you arrived, you talked briefly about the research, which was now coming to an end. Flopping down on the floor, crisscrossed and barefoot, you sighed, smiling as he updated you. “You know, I don't think I've ever been happier.”

“Yeah?” He asked, curiously.

“It almost feels unreal, how kind life's been to me lately.” You revealed, voice trembling a bit with emotion.

“Somehow, that's hard to believe.”

“Is that so?” You asked, playfully. Spencer had to swallow before your mischievous smile. A new expression on your face that he found that he quite liked.

“I mean, look around. You have everything some people think it takes to be happy.”

“You're right. Some people. I don't.” You retorted with a dip of your chin.

“What would make you happy, then?” He inquired, eager to find out. To become it.

You breathed in, closing your eyes. “I'll let you know once I figure it out.”

Should he say it? Would it be indelicate? Insensitive? Too much? Too straightforwa— “You sound a little hopeless.”

“Maybe I am.” You said, almost shrugging. Like it's not a big deal.

“You shouldn't be.” He retorted, sitting down in front of you.

“What makes you so certain?”

“You're young.”

“If anything, that only feeds despair, to some extent.” You said, distantly.

Internal battle at full extent, once again. “You know… I… I have been keeping an eye on you.”

You tilt your head the slightest bit, gaze unwavering. “What do you mean?”

Spencer struggled to form coherent thoughts, to articulate his own ideas before blurting them out rather excitedly. “You seem so… different. It's almost like you're out of this world. It's fascinating, actually. You're very deep in your own little world. Even the way you speak tells something about loneliness. So well, eloquently—”

“Susan Sontag.”

He smiled, satisfied. “See? How would you remember a quote by heart if your mind was filled with some things else?”

Against your will, you agreed. “You're right, Dr. Reid.”

Silence. He stood up, walking to grab the box behind the couch. He came back and sat in front of you once again, but this time, his knee brushed yours and neither of you mentioned it. You welcomed the warmth. Spencer hid the one coloring his cheeks. “Call me Spencer.”

“What is that?”

“Flowers.”

“Flowers?”

“You need some life around here.”

You giggled, absolutely delighted when you saw the box, containing an orchid Lego set. Spencer fought against his every instinct to just pull you into his arms at the sound that twisted his insides instantaneously. It was the first time he had heard you laugh, a rich, funny sound that seemed to have erupted from your own soul. “Is this for me? Because, you know, this might be the best thing I've ever gotten.”

“Oh, really?” He asks, feigning sarcasm. “I could've sworn it was the original piece on your wall.”

“Thank you, Spencer.”

“You're welcome.”

Despite your position, your posture was as elegant as it had ever been. He placed the pieces between the two of you. Eventually and almost silently, like a personal prayer, he learned how to call you by your name upon your insistence. With a soft look in his eye, he relented. Everything about him seemed to tell you that he was there to help you build the set. That it was alright, because he was there.

You two stood up, one at a time, once you had finished the set. Standing by the window, you glanced at the pretty plastic orchids that now were placed on your desk, right next to your name, a funny little piece amidst such a formal environment. He followed you after a brief moment of doubt. “You know, Spencer,” you uttered and he thought he might be addicted to the chain of sounds that makes up his name falling from your lips as he watched them, mesmerized. “Thank you so much for this. It's a nice feeling. Like I have a friend.”

You both shared the intimacy of a glance with each other. You decided to elaborate, too shaken by the thought of your loneliness being palpable. “You're right… I've always been a bit on the lonely side.”

He was pleased to see so much honesty from your end, and happy to see something of himself in you. He swallowed, trying to control these thoughts and keeping his composure. “I think you're very easy to get along with.”

“That's the first time I hear that.”

Spencer couldn't help the wince that came with the stabbing pain he felt at your revelation. “It's true. I…” Who are these people? “I think you're very easy to like.”

You thanked him again, quietly, lowering your gaze to the space between the two of you. Seemingly under a spell that had been casted by the way you let your guard down, ignoring the nervous pit on his stomach and not taking the time to process the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings running through him. You stood so close, if he could just— “Looking from up here, all people look so tiny.”

“Considering the extent of the universe, we are pretty tiny.”

You snorted, shaking your head softly. “Proportion changes perspective, huh, Spencer?”

Losing control over his words, utterly lost, he continued, “I also… I find you pretty… pretty.”

Your eyes glanced up to meet his. Spencer tried to read your expression, desperate to see if you were surprised, disgusted, uncomfortable or if you welcomed his words. Instead, he found a hint of longing in your eyes that he couldn't begin to understand. “I… I don't know what to say.”

Compliments were a sensitive, unknown territory for you. You only knew what these were if you outdone yourself in whatever earned you attention. Sighing, you looked at him, almost guilty.

“Sorry, I… I shouldn't have said anything.” He cringes, avoiding your gaze.

“It… It wasn't.” Deep breath. “It's just that… you're…”

Were there words in the English language for these feelings?

“I know. I didn't… I don't expect you to say anything in return,” he says, almost dejectedly. The truth is out and he can't take it back. “I just wanted to come clean. And I think that it's not just looks that draw me to you.”

You stood there, speechless.

“You're not mad? Or… or offended?” He tries.

You looked at his widened, scared eyes. It made you want to soothe him — the instinct disconnecting your mouth from any sense of ethics or decency that ran through your brain. Taking another deep breath, scared to death, “I’m actually flattered. You're a very beautiful person, inside and out, but… but… I'm your professor, Spencer, and older than you.” You said, voice wavering slightly as you got to look into his eyes again.

“Somehow… when I think about you… neither of these seem to be a problem. I can't—not think about you.”

His words crafted a small crack. There would forever be a memory in your brain of the exact same moment when his words settled in. You fell to pieces, and as you did, you felt yourself losing control of your own actions, of your sense of ethics or principles. Before you thought it through, as you felt every sense of reason leaving your body, you tilted your head up, a silent, welcoming consent of his lessening distance. Spencer, who looked almost pained with so much want, let out tiny puffs of breath as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs. He couldn't believe you were seemingly taking a risk like that, but he found that he couldn’t and didn't want to hold back any longer. The young man, very carefully, cradled your cheeks, bravely holding your glance as he caressed the soft skin of your cheek with his thumb. Time stood still when you closed your eyes, slowly, and he tilted your chin up the slightest bit, angling you just the way he needed. The touch, the existence of you was so intense and overwhelming that it made him shiver, and he was failing to keep his hands from shaking. Following the stream of whispered truths, you added, “I want to give you something to truly think about. I need your permission.”

Softly, Spencer brushed his lips against yours as he closed his eyes. It was gentle, tentative, almost experimental. The touch, albeit subtle, calmed his every nerve, and his shoulders relaxed at the contact. A shaky exhale left his lips when you pulled him in, placing your hand on the nape of his neck, the feeling grounding and safe. When your lips interlock together, it's a moment of realization; he doesn't think that he wanted something so badly without even knowing what it actually was.

Your touch is tender, as if you were both afraid that harshness would steal one from the other, relishing in the moment and in the rush of sensations that were unknown to the both of you. Spencer was so afraid that you were going to pull away and run, but he just couldn't control himself as he slid his tongue into your mouth, basking in the small satisfied sound that you made, his hands gripping your waist. You, on the other hand, felt as if you had been pushed into a sea of hot, scalding water. No touch had ever made you feel like that, and your desperation had you now tightly gripping at his vest, trying to get him impossibly closer to you. Your bodies pressed against each other set a trail of fire between the two of you, and the kiss gradually became more urgent. Violent, even.

When you pull back, he doesn't let you go far, his face only inches away, barely registering that you actually needed to breathe so great was his need to feel you against him once more. Panting, you leaned your forehead against his, not ready to open your eyes and see his face. You'd be lost.

“At least now I have something proper to think about.”

Flustered at him using your own words against you, you couldn't meet his gaze. You tried to say something, but all the courage pumping through your veins seemed to have found a way out of your system, leaving you helpless, utterly defeated into silence. A small feeling of guilt started to grow inside you, and you were warring against it. You had just kissed a student in your workplace when you were trying to have a fresh start. Spencer, noticing your turmoil, was quick to engulf you in a hug. The action, so simple, worked like a balm to your nerves, and you allowed yourself to take a deep breath, inhaling his scent, which had just become your favorite. You didn't want to let him go, neither did you know if you would ever be able to.

Resting his chin on your shoulder, he cradles the back of your head. Under the sofa, lies a small, shiny object that was long forgotten due to both its irrelevance in your life and the first moment of genuine affection you've ever experienced.

—

You remember how it felt like to lose control of yourself.

It had been days since the secret kiss you shared with Spencer and it had been the last time you saw him. Your days were filled with endless phone calls with lawyers and Theresa, desperate to find yourself free from your doom excuse of a… marriage? It seemed offensive to even relate that word to whatever you had been forced upon doing. Your nights were spent by your bedroom window, watching as people came and went, noticing with heartbreak how distant you seemed to be from everyone. You were a stranger in many ways, but above all, you were a stranger to yourself. Every little manifestation of action or thought made you inevitably remember all the people and their behavior that shaped you into whatever you are today.

And then there was Spencer. Spencer, whose touch was making you feel constantly equal parts guilty and entranced. Spencer, who was spamming your email inbox, wondering where you were. Spencer, who was the only person you truly allowed yourself to think about. The sight of him haunted your nights and the ghost of his voice echoed inside your head when you were sitting around in the empty studio. It was supposed to be refreshing, really, how his mere existence made a new flicker of hope bloom in your chest that had been unknown thus far. It was bold to call it hope, but you preferred to do that because there was no other word, no other feeling that you knew well enough to associate it with the memory of him.

You had forgotten the sound of your voice. The only thing your apartment walls heard in the time span of three days and three nights had been the following string of words:

“Theresa, are you there? Can we talk?”

—

Spencer remembers how it felt to miss you like a lost puzzle piece.

It had been days and your silence was upsetting him like nothing ever had. Sick of replaying that moment over and over, he decided to find you instead. It was late at night as he walked your street after pondering whether he should or not confront you about your silence. There wasn't much to discuss. It was just a kiss — secretly, he was scared that you would argue so —, but the lack of news from you had him feeling on edge. A tall building, endless windows. On the fifth floor, he could make a figure staring out into the city, and he couldn't begin to explain where the strength came from to run up to where you were. There was only one apartment per floor, so he knocked impatiently on your door.

501.

Upon hearing the sound, you stared, a bit scared, at the door. Opening a small slit, you saw him and your entire body froze. You closed it immediately, fear etched into your features as if he was an impending threat. As if he could cause you any harm.

“Please,” he cried, resting his forehead on the door. He tried not to compare the stiffness of the object to the softness of your skin. A clear of his throat. “Please. Nobody's seen you for days. I… I haven't seen you in days.”

There was a minute of mortifying silence, but he decided to wait. What was another moment if he had waited for you for so long? Spencer let out another plea, this time, calling you by your name.

You let him in, but you couldn't meet his gaze. Nevertheless, he noticed your bloodshot eyes. Speaking your name softly, he inquired, worryingly, approaching you. “What happened to you?”

You took a small step back, straightening your posture once you realized how close he was getting to you. The action made your heart shatter. “Don't,” you pleaded, soft-spoken as ever.

“Look at me.” He croaked, pleadingly, timorous.

Reluctantly, you met his eyes. They were confused, questioning, and it was a first on his expression. You felt guilty for doing this to him. “I can't do this to you, Spencer. I can't.”

“Please… Talk to me. Don't shut me out.”

“We can't do this. I'm your professor, and, and…”

“Are you seriously pulling the professor card? I'm not one of those undergraduate students. I'm me. It's me. We've been so close and when I think something finally might happen, you disappeared. It wasn't fair.”

Each of his words were stabs in your already hanging by a thread heart. Rip the band-aid.

“I'm married.”

There was a moment of stunned silence from his end. You knew how cruel it was to use your formal marital state to avoid him from coming any closer, but you tried not to dwell on it. This was it. Spencer deserved better. And for the first time in your life, you couldn't be better. His silence made your stomach churn painfully, aware of the ache you were causing him, and desperate to be the one to soothe the damage you had done.

Spencer, on the other hand, stared at you blankly. Almost skeptically, even. You'd have analyzed it better if you weren't too busy with your own turmoil about him. “I don't see him anywhere,” he finally said, defiantly.

Surprise took over your features, and before you could form another painful remark, Spencer approached you decisively. “Where is him, huh?”

Cutting you off as you opened your mouth to speak, once again, he scowled. “Damn him. I would do anything just to have you around.”

The crack was now big enough that he could see all parts of you from where he stood. Right then, though, the glimpse he caught before you violently smashed your lips against his was enough to haunt him for a lifetime. Your gaze, so utterly tired yet determined, looking at him as if he was the only thing in your entire world — perhaps he was. The kiss was demanding, fueled by sheer animalistic hunger. You had been hungry your entire life, deprived of the simplest pleasures and there he was, ignoring all your lackness. You failed to think of a motive for his actions, but you decided that you utterly didn't care. To feel seen like that was enough of a reason for you.

His tongue pushed into your mouth, exploring every inch with a neediness that surprises even him. You gripped at his shirt's collar as his hands tangled in your hair, tightly, almost afraid you'd disappear. Neither of you recognized your own actions, everything was far too new for you to know how to act properly, losing yourself in each other, consumed by the unique, addicting taste of your kisses and the heat building between you. The sizzling, almost bothersome feeling in your core, combined with the intensity of his kiss left you feeling lightheaded. He pulls away, reluctantly, squeezing his eyes shut, as if refraining from doing something. You rest your forehead against his. Uneven breaths mingle together as you had your eyes on him, waiting for the final blow, when he would look back at you. “Let me in,” he croaked. “I wanna be yours.”

Don't.

“You deserve so much more than this. Than what I'm able to offer you,” you whisper in a ragged breath, closing your eyes, hands now softly holding his head.

“I'll take anything you are.”

You winced, a helpless crease finding its way between your brows. “You don't get it, do you? I can't. I can't do this to you. I don't know how to do this.”

He softened, hands never leaving your skin and eyes never leaving yours. “You don't have to know anything. I don't know it either. I just wanna be yours tonight.”

Silence.

“Is it because of him?”

You promptly retorted. “No. It's not because of him.”

“From now on, it's me.”

Spencer crashed his lips to yours, barely giving you time to let his words sink in. Seemingly trying to convey his emotions, his willingness to beg for you to let him in, his devotion to be yours in that moment. Brushing your fear of not getting him to stay, you gave in, too blinded by the sheer strength of the burning within you. Spencer kissed you deeper as you slid your tongue inside his mouth, ravishing and relishing in the taste of him. A small moan broke through you when he gripped your tighter, leading you to the nearest surface — conveniently, the bed. Spencer barely had time to take in his surroundings when he got there, too busy with you and the strong pull between the two of you, but his body unconsciously and seemingly knew exactly where to take yours.

You had now entered a land reserved for only the two of you. You looked at him, softly placing you on the bed, kissing all over you, as if you were something worth looking at, worth worshipping. The tears streamed down your face freely, and he kissed each of them as they bloomed again. “Let it all out. I'm here.”

Intertwining your fingers on the nape of his neck, adjusting so that he was between your legs, you looked at him intently while he lowered the straps of your cami top, eyes never leaving yours, lips caressing your collarbone gently. The action made you shiver, and you were under his trance, taking whatever he wanted to give you, signaling over and over that you allowed him to be yours, just like he asked to be. In hindsight, he was making you his.

Gingerly, you leaned up to reach his jawline, kissing and nipping at the soft skin, trying to find an outlet for all the overwhelming feelings and fire inside you. He moaned softly, basking in the feeling of being marked so gently, already satisfied with the mere thought that he would have something of yours to remember. It was when you were undoing his shirt, not so accidentally brushing your fingertips against his fiery skin that a wave of pleasure, embedded with a persistent feeling of guilt, crawled its way into your thoughts. You were like a helpless being caught between the fight of two violent ends, and you found that you loved it. You loved being at their mercy. You loved being at his mercy.

Quickly getting rid of your top, Spencer leaned even lower, brushing his skin against yours, which elicited a series of goosebumps to erupt on your skin. You clenched your hands after retreating them from his body, desperately trying to find something that could ground you instead of feeling everything all at once. He was overwhelming, and he had barely touched you. “I never knew I could feel like this,” you breathed out, unable to keep the truth from him any further when he skimmed his fingertips against your ribs, touching with the most desperate of delicacies.

Grinding against you, he whispered, rushed, “Do you feel how much I want you? I see you and I want you. Let me in.”

Spencer's words, albeit simple, were hitting many unreached places within you. Without breaking eye contact and a bit clumsily, you two got rid of the remnants of your clothes, baring yourselves to each other in more ways than one. Spencer, still accommodated between your legs, eased himself so easily into you, making you hold on tightly to his arms, you two both letting out strangled noises at the feeling. You, beneath him, around him, enveloping his length in the most pleasant wet warmth, sucking him in, gripping, squeezing, never letting him go. A broken sob erupted as he mumbled, “I missed you so much.”

You could barely find your voice, too lost in the sense of him on top of you. The taste, the sight, the smell of him inebriated you like no drug ever could. “Ah—I missed you too,” you whimpered. “You… have no idea.”

“Show me, then.”

Desperately, you pulled him in for another searing kiss, trying to convey how much his absence had made you feel, how guilty you felt by putting what it felt then like an unnecessary distance between the two of you. Trying to get closer, impossibly closer than you ever had been before. The sensations were shattering, and you found that you didn't want to be put together again. No, you were gladly ruined for the rest of your life. Scratches down his back, bites on his lower lip and an endless stream of whimpers left your lips complemented the exhilarating experience as he watched how you reacted to him.

Lowering your gaze to where your bodies met, you were met with an exquisite sight, how he pulled away just to shove his cock back inside you making you dizzy as he had his way with you. Following your line of sight, Spencer moaned as he saw the mess between you two, how his skin began to stick to yours as your arousal glimmered on his skin. Fully sheathed again, you cried out, “There's—mmmm—so much of you in me.”

“Will you remember me?” He asked, resuming his thrusts, violently shaken by your words. He wanted to give you all of him.

Struggling to speak, your entire body trembling with the force of his strokes, you stuttered, “I could never forget you.”

His hips halt their movements. He asks, pointedly, with a stark gaze that burned its memory into your very soul, "Say you'll remember," he whimpered with a small sigh. It was difficult to tell if it was from neediness, impatience, frustration or anything else.

It was not the time for semantics, but you smiled despite yourself as the tears started to to steadily roll down your cheeks, and you replied with a shaky breath, "I'll remember you forever."

Spencer pushed in again, swallowing the strangled moan that left your lips as he kissed you intensely and your tears kissed his cheek as well. Your bodies embraced one another, as if they needed each other to exist. The moon and the sea. You tried to hold on to him, hands curling against the skin of his back and legs circling around his waist. Spencer, on the other hand, had a desperate hold on your waist, which would probably lead to faint marks of his fingers. You found that you didn't care, the astounding feeling of him against you, so forcefully and simultaneously lovingly, could use all the memories to tell you later it had been real. That you had been yours as much as you had been his that night.

The pleasure building within you was new, almost scary given its force to shake everything inside. Spencer was equally reeling, trying to prolong the moment as much as he could, too caught up on the existence of you to let it go anytime soon. With a mewl of his name, you let go, pleasure coursing through your veins and spreading through your body like being bathed by the sultriness of your moment together. The fever reached your heart, and with tearful eyes, you watched him as he released inside of you, eyes dazedly searching yours and his lips singing your name like a prayer.

On top of you, in that place of sheer veneration, your bodies tangled together like an abstract painting. Neither you or him made mention to move, too content in the feeling of sticking to the other.

"I'm not leaving,” he muttered after a while, nuzzling your neck.

"Spencer..."

"I'm not leaving. You'll wake up in the morning and I'll be here.”

—

Tonight, you aren't watching strangers from the windows of your office nor from the ones in your studio apartment. Instead, you are walking home with Spencer, hand holding hand, a firm, fierce, steady grip that never faltered.

You now exist, hearing your name being called several times a day. And so does he, the one proudly uttering said name, whenever he gets the chance. A small, simple reminder that you belong together.

dividers by @cafekitsune <3

[sanguinesky-if]

Idk if you answered this question already to be honest. But I wanted to ask if tattoos could be a customization option to be added in an Update?

You can check out the full answer about tattoos and why I don't want add piercings here.

I might create a poll specifically for tattoos hidden under clothes, but I'm not sure yet.

On one hand, I has a tattoo, so it's not really fair not to offer that option to the reader for their MC when the RO has it.

On the other hand, adding that option will add to my workload, since some of the ROs will likely comment on any tattoos before or after the first sex scenes.

Plus, I'm not sure how to implement this feature correctly.

"You have a [small / medium / large] tattoo on your [insert body part]."

Will this be enough? I have a feeling readers might want more details, which is understandable because details are important.

However, since I already have a lot to keep track of, I'm not sure I want to increase my workload with this.

Thank you for your questions, and I apologize for not being able to provide a definite answer right now.

If anyone has thoughts on this, please feel free to share them in the comments.

[randomfandomsgobrrrrrr]

Books that I have read this year (listen okay they are technically fandoms with no fanbases)

Roomba eats Satan's general (proceeds to start a cult and adopt a daughter)-All the Dust that Falls

Furry is forced into a hunger games that is being live streamed on universal twitch (proceeds to start a cult and adopt a daughter)-The Rise of the Winter Wolf

Girl realizes she's a lesbian only after she becomes god (proceeds to start a cult and adopt a daughter)-Goddess Reborn/Mirror World

Local tree starts eating people on its path to godhood (proceeds to start a cult and adopt a daughter)-Reborn as a Demonic Tree

Ant decides that the food chain does not define him so he equips diamond armor and start controlling gravity (proceeds to start a cult and adopt a daughter)-Chrysalis

Murderhobo -Full Murderhobo

Autistic man decides he hates mushrooms (he is one of the strongest people on earth & his best friend is also a snake god but we don't think about that to hard)-Primal Hunter

Mans sea food is so good that it is legally heresy and gives people super powers (he also has to convince people that he isn't an alien but Australian)-Heretical Fishing

Dudes mere existence angers a god (proceeds to beat up a fantasy world racist) -Gene Harvest

As you can see my taste in books is the best

[agardenofbasil]

do you have any advice for beginners in fanfic writing? i want to write something, i have the scenes played out in my head like a movie i just struggle to write them down :(

Hi there! I do have some basic advice for you if you’re just getting started, though most of it is more about confidence rather than “writing.” Still, I hope it’s helpful.

1. When I first started writing fic, I had a lot of anxiety/fear on whether it would be good or not. It took a long time for me to finally realize, “Hey, this is for fun, and I’m on the journey to eventually get better.” So my first piece of advice is to sort of confront that fear if you have it. Do your best to be comfortable with making mistakes, running out of fuel/inspiration, writing scary/unconventional things, etc.

2. My thesis advisor was a big proponent of sectioning off an hour a day to write or to think about writing. She never pushed me to actually write, but rather, she encouraged me to at least spend an hour thinking about writing and my project, or at least something adjacent to that. I find this to be incredibly helpful because thinking about things can, more often than not, lead to you doing the thing (or something related to the thing) and for my case, this is true. I let myself pick a time that I’m comfortable with and stuck with that time frame. This definitely contradicts the next piece of advice below, but it helped me build a habit when it comes to writing. Building a habit of, say, adding 50-100 words to your project a day can help you stay upbeat about your project.

3. That being said, I still encourage people to write on the fly because I still practice this 70% of the time. Just like you, the movie scenes are in my head. Whenever I get one, I open the notes/Docs app and just write the basics of the movie scene (character, action, feeling, setting). Sometimes, it’ll be a line of dialogue. Sometimes it’ll be “Character needs to feel awkward.” There’s nothing wrong with writing when the feeling comes to you, and as someone who mostly writes short stories/prose and nonfiction garbage, I recommend this. However, don’t bully yourself into writing more than you want/can. If you open up the doc, write two lines, and can’t think of more, that’s okay. If you want to see this in terms of how I outlined Longing for the Shore, just let me know, and I’ll happily show you how that went from a few bullet points to more specific lines to the actual paragraph/scene!

4. I encourage people to not delete anything. I know that sounds kind of manic, but hear me out. You wrote something. That’s great. Keep it. If you hate it, open a new document or turn to a new page. Give yourself the grace and room to move on and leave things unfinished. Try your best not to operate in absolutes. Don’t look at a piece as “good or bad” as “should be posted or trashed.” Binaries are awful and they limit you. You never know when that piece you initially hated can be the basis of something totally new.

5. Finally, take inspiration in little things. There should be no shame in being inspired by your favorite shows, an actor you masturbated to, the events in your life, the things you went through. I still find myself writing about my muse’s blue dress, about what I see on a walk. For example, in the piece about Lamine and Cuba, I took inspiration on how Lamine is constantly patting his hair down. He probably doesn’t wear many beanies at all. Imagining him wearing a beanie that Cuba gave him, even when he messes with his hair often, is a “story” that bloomed from that. I’ve learned that you don’t need to have profound inspiration or even write profoundly. You can just write about simple things and find happiness in them, and that’s still writing.

6. Other things that may help: Discord has a writing sprint bot that you and friends can play. Set up a timer for 20 minutes. Write whatever you want down. Or, go old school. Have a pen pal or a writing buddy/group that you silently sit with and physically write. Make it social by having a IRL/digital writing group that meets and talks about the process of writing (very helpful for academic work.) Read stuff out loud in bathroom mirrors. Don’t let posting on Ao3/Tumblr be the end goal. The end goal is whatever you want it to be.

This is very long, but I hope this helped. Let’s talk more if you want (and let me know if you want pictures/examples of how I go from “movie scene” to “fic”)!

[krystella-shifts]

EVERYTHING IS CLICKING FOR ME Y'ALL!!! *ੈ✩‧₊˚

The only post you'll ever need for LOA. Literally.

It's so easy to manifest literally so easy once you do this. JUST SIT BACK AND RELAX, BE IN RECIVING MODE INSTEAD OF CONSTANTLY FEELING LIKE YOU HAVE TO DO SOMETHING. Yes sometimes it can be hard when you feel panic that you have to manifest as fast as possible but trust me once you TRUST, it'll all fall into your lap at the snap of a finger! Literally. You'll even feel better and happy instead of worrying and feel like waiting forever. The universe/god/your higher self, whatever you believe in is telling you or teaching you that the way isn't through worry, stress, pain, suffering. The way is through ease, love, trust. Once you understand this you'll ALWAYS and I mean ALWAYS be able to manifest without any effort. Yes, no need for that 21 days challenge, no need to set a reminder for every hour to affirm, no need to try hard to visualise every teeny tiny detail. Just have this inner knowing and relax. That's the cheat code. How easy is that? You literally have the cheat code and it doesn't require ANY effort outside and the most minimal effort inside.

Now let me explain all the manifestation techniques in more detail.

Every manifestation technique has one goal:

Think about any technique. Affirming, visualising, scripting,etc. All of these are for what? To remind you, you have your desire. YES not to get something. That's why Neville said feel it real is very powerful technique. Cuz that's what happens when we receive something right. But what we do in loa is we feel it rn and get it rn, and because the 3d is in the past, yes it's our past assumptions, that's why we say it's not real. So when we feel it real we already have our desire in the present, but the 3d is not in the present. So don't react to it. Just remember that. And after a few days of having our desire we don't get THAT excited, do we? So when you think about it again you don't have to feel anything or do anything cuz you already have it. AND THEN WE JUST SIT BACK AND RELAX. Again the same conclusion. Cuz that's it!

ALL YOU NEED TO EVER DO:

Decide what you want. And feel having it.

Remind yourself that you have ___ either saying it in your head, writing it down, etc

RELAX. SIT TF BACK. YES YOU DON'T NEED TO DO ANYTHING.

Whenever you think about ___ always remember you have it. And think naturally. How would you think having ___ cuz you do now.

Remember the 3d is a product of your past assumptions. Just like how we see the stars 8 years later of their actual form. Just like it takes 8 minutes for sunlight to reach the earth. If you remember this you won't ask "where it is" you know it is here. And yes u can manifest Shifting too.

Allow it to come to you. I don't chase i attract.

Yes that's what it means. And I am the living proof for that 😌💅🏻✨ I am literally living my dream life and bestie you are too. That's all you need to manifest (aka yourself). It's very simple but if you have any questions feel free to comment and keep me updated on your manifestation journey and success stories cuz I'd love to read them and know if my post helped you 🤭🥂 (atleast you can do that for me, right? ;p)

Love, ... redkittyjellyfish? Wait i need to change my user name 💀 (ps. I changed my user from redkittyjellyfish - Krystella-Shifts (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠) )

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[fairene]

beneath the moonlight / ln4

vacay lando norris x maxf!littlesister

no use of y/n, as always.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“are you sure? i can take–”

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

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

right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and then he was gone. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

or so you thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

you thought you were going to kiss. 

and so did he. 

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

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

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

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

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

he smiled. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what? i wasn’t manly before?” 

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

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

“really?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“gonna jump out on me?” 

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

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

he chuckled at that. “i’ll try.” 

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

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

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

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

“between us, then?” 

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

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

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

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

“he say anything to you?” 

you flushed. between us, then?

“no. what would he say?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what?” 

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

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

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

you swallowed. nodded your head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“there,” you breathed. “all clean.” 

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

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

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

“guess so.”

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

you still couldn’t believe what had happened. 

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

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

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

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

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

“bright and early tomorrow?” he asked. 

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

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

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

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

he did. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you were shameless when you nodded your head. 

“so embarrassing, i know–” 

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

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

“what do you feel for me now?” 

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

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

he raised his arm, outstretching his hand for you. 

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

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

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

“you didn’t answer me.” he repeated.

you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“some dreams just remain dreams.” 

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

“do you want to dream forever?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he lied. 

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

‘course he fucking noticed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘n i’ve barely touched you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you shook your head. “no– no!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you don’t want me?” 

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

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

your brows furrowed. “do i?”

his expression dropped. 

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

your name was sweet on his tongue. 

“what would your brother say–?” 

“fuck what he thinks.” you leaned down. 

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

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

“how much?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“the one with the bows?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

he swallowed. shook his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fuck that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“slept great.” 

you scoffed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but you stood your ground. “positive.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

holy shit

you thought you were going to pass out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“asshole.” max mirrored you. 

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

though you did. 

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

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

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

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

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

“i’m sorry–” he said, “i was just—”

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

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

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

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

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

“i–” you gulped. “i didn’t mean–”

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

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

but you dared to disagree. 

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

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

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

“get your hands off me.” you bit out. 

“you didn’t seem to mind yesterday.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“we’ll see if you’re lucky tonight.” 

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

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

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

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

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

you had come up with the idea for dinner. 

fish. as everyone enjoyed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you leaned against the kitchen aisle, facing him, and he immediately recoiled at the smell. his nose turned upright, curling upward with his lip, and you saw the sparkle of his canines. 

lando approached you, the stove, and took a glance at what the helpings were. he turned his head over his shoulder, giving you a knowing look, which you returned with a small shrug and a smirk.

“witch.” he uttered, hands clamping around the edges of the countertops, unsure what he was going to fish through the cabinets for. 

“don’t worry.” you said, lando turning to raise his brows. you slid him a bowl filled with greens, vegetables, and a little bit of rice. “plenty for you, don’t you think?” 

you cocked your head toward the empty seat, but he instead took the one right next to you. the bowl in your hands was pungent with sprouts, and even you recoiled. you placed it down in front of him, letting your hand linger on his back. “i’m no dietician,” you said quietly. “but i tried to substitute as much as i could.” 

“thank you,” he said through clenched teeth, fucker. 

you were quaint with your serving, taking enough for your fill, and sat down swiftly. conversation grew between all of the men, your brother included, and you ate in silence. you had done more thinking about your situation with your ex, and recoiled with a sickening feeling in your stomach. lando watched from the corner of his eye, noticing how little you touched your fork with your lips and spun your spoon amongst the rice. 

he knew he said tribulating words. taunted you. teased you. but he did not mean for it to stretch as far as it had. you were twiddling with the accessories on your wrists, barely saying a word the entire meal, and he felt that it was his fault. you’d only gone as far enough to tease him with a full fish basking over an open flame on the stove. 

it wasn’t shameful when he was devouring the meal you had cooked. despite the repugnant smell of fish lingering in the air, your food was…divine. he wasn’t all that surprised, but it was a nice treat to end one of the first full days. 

but the most courageous ideas filled his head. he kept looking at you, staring, out of the corner of his eye. you were entirely blue with your melancholy, and he resented the soured expression upon your beautiful face. he took it as his own responsibility to relieve you of your worries. your anxieties. insecurities. as it was his fault that they emerged. 

it didn’t take long before beneath the table, lando’s hand wandered. he began with a soft graze of your knee which had you sitting up straight, white skirt you dressed in before remaking its appearance around your hips. 

you turned your head to face him, eyes flaring with wonder of just what the fuck he was doing. but his expression stayed nonchalant, undeterred from his conversation with your brother. you decided that you should play the same game, sliding into the roll of uncaring of his soft touches.

though it was much easier said than done. 

his fingers were daunting. restless. he took a break to sip his water with his opposite hand, divulging into deeper conversation as his hand trailed higher. it was then that he spread his palm wide over the span of your thigh, bare, pinching at the skin. you leaned over the table, leaning your head into your palms that were supported by your elbows upon the table. 

you sighed, your other leg jumping up and down. you attempted to listen to whatever they were talking about– football, instagram, the races– but you couldn’t tune in for long. not when he tugged the fabric of your skirt to the side, and let his pinky dance across your folds. fuck. 

attempting to muffle your struggle, you brought your glass to your lips, sipping in promptitude. you leaned back, tucking your chair as far as you could against the table. it finally caught lando’s attention, briefly, when he gave you a once over with a cheeky smile. max caught the action, raising a brow at you, but you simply swallowed down your drink and crossed your hands over your lap. 

your lap, that so happened to house lando’s hand between your thighs. your cunt was clothed by your panties, but you could still feel the pressure of his finger lodging against your slit. 

you wrapped your hand around his wrist, gripping tight with the desire for him to stop, but he would do no such thing. he went as far as using his ring finger to stroke the cotton of your underwear, grazing over your clit as if it were nothing. he circled around your tender bundle of nerves, refusing to leave it alone. 

your second hand came to wrap around his wrist, higher up on his forearm, pleading indefinitely to halt his movements. your thighs clenched impossibly tight around his hand, suffocating him, but it didn’t stop him. it only had him steadfast in his pursuit– to get you to come at this dinner table. 

with your force against his forearm, you were sure to leave bruises of your fingertips in your wake. but you didn’t care. through your tension, he could feel your pleasure. he knew that you would writhe, squirm, but you couldn’t. not here. 

you found yourself trembling. your grip around his wrist softened, lip caught between your top set of teeth. you were lucky that the tablecloth was acting as a barrier between any wandering eyes–though, shamefully, that was the last thing on your mind. 

but right now, you felt yourself coming to a clearing. a light at the end of the tunnel in the name of your orgasm. shit. 

it took only one quick glance around the room to see that everyone was done with their meals. with empty plates, they were awaiting more. and more you shall give, best to get up rather than submit to lando’s toilsome teasing. you couldn’t give him this pleasure. not when he toyed with you, refused to admit to any truths that might belittle his feelings. 

you finally shoved his hand away. it took all the might you had, and it even had his head shifting in your direction. you stood, and he immediately tugged the hem of your skirt down beneath the table cloth. if anyone noticed, they didn’t say a word. 

“dessert, anyone?” 

there was a small rally of cheers, and you smiled. it was the only thing that could get your mind off of lando’s hand between your legs. the flushed expression you wore didn’t wane until you were alone in the kitchen. 

it was ice cream that was for dessert, and that would be enough. you put out some toppings for them to choose from, and returned with the platter. you set it toward the center of the table, and the pickings were gone instantly. everyone had their own serving, side bowl, ready to go. 

but lando waited for you to settle back in before he grabbed a pint of vanilla. he nudged the ice cream scooper towards your direction, a silent indication that had him asking if he could serve yours. you simply nodded, even though your cunt burned with the phantom touch of his fingers. he did that to you in no way another man could. leave you wanting more. sex with your ex boyfriend had been a joke. you never came. ever. you only did when it was at your own hand, your own touch. but with lando…

lando on that balcony, dressed in the pale moonlight. you, his angel, glowing halo of energy illuminating your face, unraveled before him. he doesn’t think he’s ever met such a woman receptive to his touch. he’s fucked girls before, too many for max’s taste–hence his displeasure– but they weren’t like you. they didn’t squirm, whimper, in his hold. they’d moan like they were being televised, recorded, ready to be on a screen play.

you were natural. beautiful. incapable of being anyone but yourself. he admired you for such bravery, commending you silently through the cosmic planes. though you could not hear the words from him, you felt a warmth coming from his direction despite the cold treat being scooped into the dish in front of you. 

he gave you more than enough and smiled. a real one, you caught. it was a break from the humidity, a breeze that was most welcomed upon your skin. fuck. you were supposed to be mad at him, weren’t you? weren't you supposed to plot your volatile revenge for him touching you? 

you were. 

when he settled beside you with his own serving, you were quick to shuffle a bit closer to him. the chair scooted across the floor, a vibration felt beneath his own, and he bristled. what were you up to? you appeared to be happier, a bit less caught up in your own head, and that he could be grateful for. you even engaged in a few conversations with max’s friends. 

they were lovely chaps, truly, but they were his friends. not yours. 

lando was just about to respond to a question that max had asked him, but he coughed on his ice cream, the feeling of your fingertips darting across his crotch taking a huge galavanting surprise out of him. he didn’t know that you had such austerity within you, but it was a welcome discovery.

but your skillfulness was not. 

the outline of his cock beneath his shorts was obvious. you felt the light curve, the tip, the base all beneath your palm. it was an empowering sensation, hidden beneath the table cloth, and lando had to outstretch both of his hands to steady himself. 

“y’alright, mate?” max asked when lando coughed. the british driver nodded beside you, leaning forward. 

“yeah. fine. carry on?” max repeated his question for lando. before he was about to answer for a second time, your hand curled around the base of his cock, feeling full in your palm. your thumb brushed against his tip, smiling to yourself when you felt a light wet patch against your finger. 

he sucked in a tight breath, but answered max with a strained voice. he clenched his jaw tight and his tongue poked the inside of his cheek. you knew you were riling him, and it was paying off to see him flustered. 

you continued your stroking motion discreetly beneath the table. the excitement of being caught was perhaps too thrilling, and the presence of your hand against his cock only excited you further. he was big. that was enough for you to be floored. your guesses as a edgy teenage girl were correct, and the woman inside of you purred at the idea of him inside of you. 

little did you know, he thought the same. when his fingers were lodged inside your hot folds, your deathly tight grip clamping around him, he knew that he had to have you. he knew it years ago, too, but just how pretty you were atop of him…how receptive you were to his touch– it was a pillar of pleasure that continued to build and build, until it will ultimately fall. 

until it will fall, and he is deep inside of you. with the outline of his cock embedded in your lower belly he would feel satisfied, with his cum dripping from your cunt, he could find a peace from this torturous lust that overtook every fucking part of his mind. he needed you. carnally. in whatever fashion labeled him as a barbarian, he would hunt you down if that is what you wanted. 

and maybe you did. 

you wanted him to chase you. to fight for you. to appease the teenage girl inside of you that yearned for his affections, his oblivious attentions. you felt that you deserved it for all the work you put in through your teendom. the boys you rejected. the time you gave up to attend his races. 

was that such a bad thing to be wanted? to be wanted above all, by the man of your wonderlike dreams? but was he so dreamy, then, when he glanced at you with his needy, preening eyes when you held his cock so firm in your hand? 

the answer was undoubtedly yes. 

you felt the pulse of his cock against your hand. it was a delectable vibration that beat for you of all people. you felt more than divine prowess gripping his length, such a dirty, lewd, action beneath the table. and none of them knew what you had been doing. how you were affecting him. it was a secret wasn’t it? 

the catalyst for your movements was about to be thwarted when he readjusted his hips in the chair, bucking fiercely against your touch, your hold on his dick. 

conversations around you began to dull down to a minimum. the night was ending, and he felt himself rearing a release. but he couldn’t. not here. fuck. he gripped on your hand beneath the table, shivering, shaking, as he pleaded you with his eyes. they were wide drawn, glossed with a desperation that you needed permanently in your life. it was a face you wouldn’t forget. ever. how he yearned to cum in your hand, but it wasn’t the right time. when would be the right time? 

“since you made dinner,” max began, letting out a grueling burp, “i say we lot ‘ought to tidy up, shall we?” the boys nodded and hummed amongst each other in agreement. they made quick pace clearing the table, and this was lando’s excuse to rip himself free of your devilish hand. though he wanted nothing more than to cum with your sleek fingertips, he had to be nonchalant about it all. 

he cleared his throat when he stood, feigning a quietness that felt unusual, but no one said a word. you smiled to yourself, pulling your hand away back to your lap. it was damp from his precum, sordid with an urge to pop a finger or two into your mouth. and you did. pretending to clean yourself from any residue of icecream, you licked your fingers clean. 

lando stared. unable to take his eyes off of you. he lingered with his hand around your bowl and plate, his breath hitching in his throat. devil woman, he thought. 

when the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher and the fragile ones laid out to dry, you finally stood. you arched your back, stretching your limbs, but felt cold on your cunt. it was the air conditioning that cooled you, reminding you that he was the one to tease you first beneath the table. 

your brother bid you goodnight with a kiss to your cheek, whilst the others thanked you sincerely for the meal. you were grateful to receive such gratitude, but it wasn’t from the man you wanted it the most. 

tucking your chair into the table, you made your way into the grand kitchen. with its tiled walls, marbled kitchen island, lando stood at the epicenter. with a towel in his hand, drying the last few of the dishes, he watched you saunter in. 

his tongue poked at the inner corner of his cheek with a clenched jaw. boy, did he have words for you. you and your actions. how you ruined him at the dinner table whilst talking to your brother of all people. it was like you wanted them to see–

ah

ah

when you joined him side by side, the pair of you said nothing for a moment. but the moment when lando scanned the room front to back, he dropped the towel and grabbed onto you.

he spun you around so your front pushed against the kitchen aisle, your back arching against the palm of his hand. his second went around the front of your throat, pulling your head up to his own. 

“that what you wanted?” he growled into your ear, trembling with his edged orgasm teetering on the tailend of a massacre. “hmm? tell me, baby.” 

you were at a loss of words, dizzied from the grip around your throat. you wished that he would leave bruises. 

then he bent you over the counter, the cool surface eliciting a gasp from deep within you. his hand flexed over your back, scaling your spine. 

“being a fucking tease…” 

“you started it.” you retaliated with a childlike immaturity. 

lando chuckled as his crotch came flush against your cunt. your wet, dampening cunt by the second. the hand that had been latched to your throat moved to your skirt, toying with the fabric. he scoffed, feeling the wetness of your panties. “bet you’re still wet anyways.”

you were.

your face flushed. 

“dirty fucking girl.” he said quietly, a comment to himself, but loud enough for you to hear. you swayed your hips against his, desperate for a flickering sensation of friction. 

“ah ah,” he tsked, landing a slap to your ass. the sound ricocheted through the echoing kitchen. “think you deserve it after tonight?”

you mewled in response, your cheek freezing against the countertop. the heat from your asscheek was enough to satisfy you for the moment, your thighs clenching together. he ogled, head twisting in a fashion that was revered with lust. 

with a fist he made a makeshift ponytail of your hair, pulling your head back against his chest. “hmm?” 

“no.” 

“no?” he’d repeat. you nodded your head, submitting to him without question. he was peeved that you didn’t fight back, but would take your submission with earnestness. but you had other plans brewing inside your head. ones that you knew would drive him up the fucking wall.

but that would come later. for now, you let your head fall backward onto his shoulder, and looked up at him. “let me fix it…”

your whimpering had his eye twitching, lip curling, arms flexing. it was a gut reaction to how soft your voice had become, how eager he knew you were. 

his hold on you loosened, and you took this as your opportunity to spin around and drop to your knees in front of him. you couldn’t help but gape at his thundering cock beneath his shorts, salivating at just the thought of him filling your mouth. 

but he said nothing else, stunned in his place; how could he not be when you regarded him with ardor, quivering hands?

“please…” you said, your cheek coming to nuzzle against his thigh, one hand gripping the back of his calf. he couldn’t reject you like this. not when he wanted you so dearly. 

a hand came to run through your hair atop your head. an nonverbal, encouraging pet. you hummed, making quick work of lowering his shorts, his briefs, and his cock sprung free with vitality. it was red hot, pulsating with blood, beating a bright scarlet for you. it glistened with his own slick for you. 

“go on, love,” he was breathless. “you can take it, can’t you?” 

you nodded furiously, a whine leaving your lips. with your determined fingers, you wrapped them around his base, pumping your hand back and forth. it didn’t take much before he was leaking over your palm, and you let your lips swirl around his tip.

his head fell back in pleasure, fingers tightening his grip in your hair. with his empty hand, he gripped the island to support his weight from toppling upon you. 

he was both sweet and salty, a sensation you’ve never tasted before. you continued your relentless pursuit on his tip until he was wrought with desperation, and let his hips buck forward until he was half way down your throat. 

you groaned in protest, your eyes watering with tears, but took him like the good girl you were. he wanted you, and you wanted him. you could ask for nothing more. 

“just like that, baby–” he stuttered out, voice cracking when you took him whole down your throat. you breathed through your nose. “fuck,” he cursed, your lips puckering, even stimulating him with the top ridges of your teeth. he let out a deep moan. 

“perfect,” he commented, but you thought you misheard him for a moment. “you’re perfect.” 

it persuaded you further–not like much was needed– and sped up your pace. faster and faster you went, guzzling him perfectly. with your other hand that gripped his calf, calm to knead at his balls. that was the moment he faltered, unable to withstand your feverish tongue. he had to bite back his own groans of pleasure. 

“where?” he demanded of you. you paused, but didn’t take long for your answer. he was holding himself back as much he could, his hips bucking down the hot cavern of your throat, but you didn’t relent. my mouth, your actions screamed, and he didn’t think twice.

before you knew it your mouth was loaded with his cum, hot rods of delectable nectar from him. you were pleased, more than satisfied, that you made him cum in just a matter of minutes. 

he pulled himself out of you, letting you breathe. you swallowed, not finding him distasteful, and even showed him your bare tongue. he was panting, attempting his best to catch his breath, but managed a coarse chuckle. 

you gave his flaccid cock a singular kiss before you rose to your feet, bringing his shorts and briefs up with you. he adjusted himself before launching his lips on your own. the remnants of him were prominent on your tastebuds as he swirled his tongue into your mouth. you allowed his strength, making a sound from your throat. 

“taste like me,” he commented against your lips. you beam. 

“must’ve been good, then?” you knew it was. but you wanted to hear it from him. 

he snickered. “guess so.” 

you slapped his chest before breaking your kiss. you glanced up at him one more time before placing a kiss on his cheek, escaping his grasp. he held onto your hand, though, wondering just where you were going. not when he didn’t have you cumming on his tongue. 

“it’s past my bedtime,” you remarked, raising your brows. his own scrunched. “what?”

“let me–” 

you shushed him. 

“on the house.” 

you were gone before he could respond, skipping up the steps, ready to set your plan in motion. he didn’t know what was coming, not yet, but he surely would once you closed the door to your room, and stripped of your clothes. 

you left him there pondering. he was entirely at a loss— you skirting away with ease, high tail with that lacey material– and vanished without another word. it had lando breathing heavily, hands running through his hair. shit, he thought, this was bad. 

in the bathroom of your suite, you twisted the shower on. whilst waiting for it to heat up, you turned your attention towards the open shaft windows that you could prop open. your room is next to mine, lando’s words rang through your head. okay, you thought, game on, right?

you made sure the windows were open at a respectable distance, praying that his own would be too. he liked the cool breeze from the night, pray tell from his times of sleeping in max’s room in your childhood home. 

glancing at yourself in the mirror once, you were betting on this to work. to truly grab his attention, whilst also awarding yourself a release you’d been craving since his fingertips caressed your knee. 

into the shower you went, tilting your head back and letting the waterfall drench your scalp. it was relaxing, more than you anticipated, and your mind was able to wander to other things. like his hands. his toned, muscular arms. his neck, built intensely with strength that you’ve never seen before. in certain lights, especially beneath the italian sun, it bulged outward. you wondered what it’d feel like between your thighs. your fingers wandered along your soaked skin, breasts reacting to your touch, taut beneath your palms. 

lando had just shut the door to his room, shaking off the sweat that dribbled down his forehead. and his windows were open— the curtains swaying back and forth— and he heard your call. 

at first, the british driver thought that he was hallucinating. that he was hearing things from losing it. but there was no denying that it was your sweet siren serenading through the air, wafting against the mediterranean winds. 

a moan had been pulled from you by your own hand. your head flat against the tiles of the shower wall, you twisted until your cheek was firm against the siding. one hand came to rest on the base of your throat, gripping for comfort, while the other trailed downward to your navel, priming at your folds. 

you were swollen hot, but never to the same degree you were on his lap just the previous night. 

it was enough, though, for you to rub against your clit the way you knew your body best. a delicious combination of whimpers and moans trembling through the air. 

lando was brought to his fantasies, unbelieving that they were coming alive before him. he leaned against the windows from his room, hand clenching tight around the ledge, and listened to your whining calls, urging him, tempting him, to knock down your fucking door and fuck you like you wanted him. 

a finger slid easily inside of you. with both stimulation to your clit and your sensitive nerves inside of you, it was heaven. the hot water combined with your punitive thoughts, tracing back to lando, aroused you to a degree unfathomable to any pleasure you’ve ever felt. besides his fingers, that is. 

lando couldn’t resist. his own cock was blistering with heat, again, in just the span of ten minutes. you had just been on his knees for him. now, here you were, a siren within the night, taking him under your bewitching. 

and spellcasted he was. 

with his dick in his hands, he was dripping. your sounds became louder, prominent, for his open window. and he absorbed every droplet you gave him, a man dehydrated of the world’s most sweet nectar. he was greedy, selfish even, and knew then that he had to be yours. he didn’t give a fuck what max said, thought, cared about this moment. it would belong to him and him alone— your saccharine temper. 

he could imagine you there, thinking about just how desperate he was. how you knew what you were doing to him. how he unfolded before your voice. 

you were. 

you thought of his face. how it contorted with pleasure while you sucked him off. you’d remember the sounds he made— whimpers of desperate, wicked nature— that had you curling your finger inside of you, even becoming so bold as to add a second. it should be criminal to think of your brother’s best friend this way, but that thought came and went just as the tides changed. 

lando fisted his cock with the thought of you wrapped around him. hand draped across the ledge of the windowsill, he writhed and seethed from his own daring thoughts of you. your skirt, your pretty eyes, your wondrous nature. he was awed by you, but wanted to damn you to ruin with his touch. it pursued him further, and he knew he wasn’t going to last long.

surely he wouldn’t, not when he heard his name carry through the air. his name rolling off your tongue. his name in the form of a whimper. 

“lando,” you breathed, loud enough to surpass the stream of the water. and your stomach coiled, reaching an orgasm before you could count to three.

lando had, too, spurring loads of his come into his empty hand. it wasn’t an elegant movement— rather messy and untamed— but that’s how it was when it came to you, wasn’t it? nothing was going to be easy about this relationship he conjured up in his head, but for you, though it’d be worthwhile. 

you went to bed that night with a sleep full of your wildest, fanatical dreams that included lando. whereas he tossed and turned, unable to believe that the girl he knew in his childhood had him wrought with lust. 

the morning that followed was a quiet one. you and the rest of the vacation group of boys were headed out to one of italy’s finest beaches, chartered there by a small boat. you had opted for one of your best bathing suits and cover up pieces, looking outright chic. 

when you arrived at the beach, you stuck closely to max’s side. the entire ride, lando had been stealing glances from you, shifting awkwardly in his seat. you had your answer from your plan the previous night. he heard you. 

good, you thought, crossing your legs over one another. serves him right. 

you’d lay out your towel on the white sand. your brother joined you, laying down a few feet from you along with some of his buddies. lando kept his distance, knowing too fucking well that’d he’d pull some feral shit in front of you and your brother. 

some of the others opted for surfing. with their boards ready from the rental shack, they were catching waves with ease. you watched from your upright position, lathering yourself in spf. 

“what’dya think of chris?” your brother asked you. you turned your head, wondering what he was implying. chris was one of his good-natured, all classic, sweet boy friends. you’d known him for a good majority of your life, but never…really thought of him. 

“he’s a good guy.”  

lando was sitting up now. listening. 

“well,” max shrugged, taking your nonchalant answer with grace. “asked me if it was okay to give him your number. think he fancies you.” 

your expression dropped. chris fancied you? in what universe could he, when he couldn’t even manage a conversation with you. you weren’t even sure he could ever muster the courage to look you in the eye, for that matter. 

“and…what did you say?” 

max looked at you with his sunglasses on. you saw your reflection in them. 

“think it’s fine. ‘e’s a good lad. nice. well-mannered.” he emphasized his last point. was that a jab at your previous boyfriends? “besides…i wanna see you happy.” 

it was touching, truly, that your brother cared for you on such a protective level, but you didn’t need him meddling with your romantic life. not when the man who consumed your sexual thoughts sat a few bodies next to you. 

your eyes drifted to find lando’s. he was already glaring, sending sharp daggers your direction. he heard it all, and was about to combust with jealousy. you could see it. you’d use it. 

“maybe.” you brushed it off, but found chris in the waters. he was just coming out from the sea, and you thought this was your perfect opportunity. 

you jumped to your feet, sunglasses on, and tore your cover up from your body. you didn’t look back to know what lando’s expression was— worshiping. 

chris’ head popped up when he saw you approaching him. he shifted a bit, as if he were preening his feathers. 

“catch any good ones?” you asked, your feet touching the water. chris cleared his throat. 

“some,” he gestured to the large waves. “current is strong today.” 

you edged further into the water until your knees were covered. 

“you looked good out there, at least i think so.” you managed a smile, not entirely opposed to his company. your brother had been right. he is a nice lad. you should at least build a friendship with him, shouldn’t you? 

“really?” he was shocked. “you were watching?” 

you nodded with a hum, and continued further out into the blue waters. chris took this as an invitation and dropped his board high up on the sand and followed you in. he wasn’t as built as lando was, but you shouldn’t even be making the comparisons. 

you stopped when the water was just beneath your breasts. water seeped in through your top, and you noticed that chris’ eyes caught on the fabric. typical. 

“what do you do for work, then? are you a student?” you managed a brief conversation with him. chris met you at your side. 

“business student in scotland,” he confirmed, but he wasn’t all cocky about it. you thought that he’d boast, but he didn’t. “yourself?” 

you told him your plans. he was impressed that you’d accomplished so much at your age. 

and your conversation with him went on, but not without the darkness of lando’s envy over your shoulder. you’d taken a few glances over chris’ shoulder to see his reddened expression, watching the pair of you share a few laughs. 

he wanted this day to be fucking over. he wanted you in his bed. and he would have it one way or another— whatever it takes. 

arriving back to the villa that evening, your brother and his friends wanted to go out clubbing. it was around 8pm and the sun was beginning to set, though you didn’t feel like a night out. the sun had gotten to you, and you were rather tired. 

“you’re sure you don’t wanna go?” max asked you in the foyer, waiting for the rest of his band to go along.

“i’m sure. besides, i could use a night in.” your brother respected your choice and didn’t push you further. before he left with his friends, he did turn and leave you with one comment.

“lando’s here, too, in case you need anything.” 

and then he was gone, tailending with chris flashing you a smile. 

shit. 

shit, shit, shit. you knew you were in for it now. there was no way that you’d escape lando for the evening, unsure how he caught notice that you’d be staying in for the night. 

when the door shut and the house was empty, you raced up to your room. you’d worn a floor length slip dress when you’d gotten home, but wanted to change and lock yourself in for the rest of the night. but your situation changed drastically when you reached the first step, and saw lando leaning against the staircase from the top. 

“just you and me, yeah?”

you gulped, taking a few steps back. he looked furious yet unbothered at the same time. 

“what to do, what to do…” he began to saunter down the steps when you moved back. “in this big, empty house…?” 

he trailed after you all the way until you were on the balcony. he slipped out from the sliding door, watching as you were frantically nervous in his presence. you had no idea what he was thinking, watching you all day flirt with chris. 

your back was against the stone balustrade, hands spread wide to support yourself. your heart was racing, but you wouldn’t let him see that. wouldn’t show him the effect he had. 

lando wore a black ln4 shirt from his collection, along with tan sweatpants. it was an understatement to say he didn’t look fucking good. 

he donned a cocky smirk as he closed the distance between the two of you, leaning into your space. you felt his breath on your cheek. 

“he’s a good lad, innhe?” 

you met his eye— his blue, green eyes that were swarmed with a darkness you didn’t believe him capable of. 

“he’s nice.” you said, referring to chris. because he was. he was respectful. 

“‘he’s nice.’” lando mocked, scoffing. he turned his head to the side to look over your shoulder to the coastline that surrounded the villa. 

“yes, he’s nice.” you bit back, brows furrowing. “more than i can say for you.”

lando’s expression froze, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. his jaw tightened as he processed your words, foot tapping against the stone. 

“yeah? you don’t think i’m good to you?” 

whatever this was…you loved it. you craved him. needed him. there was a zing of electricity that ran down your spine, electrifying your cunt. your thighs tightened together and you shrugged, playing him off the best that you could. 

he tsked, tilting your chin to meet his eyes with his index finger. “we’ll see.” 

and then his lips were on yours. ravaging. starving. he was a man that has been deprived of you for far too long— twenty four hours— without your touch. it was maddening the way he was obsessed with you. how you infested every corner of his mind. you, you, and more you. 

you succumbed to his kiss with ease, your tongues battling between one another. he tasted of espresso, whereas you tasted of the apple liquor from the boat. 

he won, ultimately, a hand coming to wrap around the back of your neck. your own latched to his shoulders, another going for his hair. you tugged on the strands, eliciting a groan from him that you wished to hear over and over, time and time again. you were sure that you would, not daring to ever let him go. you had him surrounded.

his tongue lathered over yours, dripping saliva down your chin. it was messy, intangibly so, but you’d have him no other way. you wanted him like this, uncontrolled, pining, for your affections. you had him in the place you wanted, and he had more in store for you. 

he broke the kiss with a string of saliva connecting the pair of you. your eyes heavy with desire, his own mirroring the same. his kisses traveled to your jaw, your throat— but he sucked feverishly against the skin, surely to leave bruises. you gasped when you felt his teeth puncture through the top layer of your skin. “marks—” 

you reminded him, but he didn’t care.

“fuck what they think.” 

you melted where you stood. his hand came to wrap around your lower back, angling your hips to brush against his. he was already hard, you could feel it, but you were sure that you were dribbling too. 

his relentless pursuit of your neck didn’t end there. when he met the fabric of your dress, he pulled the straps down with ease, your breasts falling free. he ogled at your mounds, saliva dripping from his chin. it was, perhaps, the hottest sight you’ve ever seen. not the waterfalls of france, not the cascades of lake como— but this, right here— lando norris drooling on your chest.

“what would you do with ‘nice’?” he mumbled into your skin, attacking one of your perked nipples with his tongue. you gasped, biting your lip to retain a moan. 

“he could treat me well,” you seethed through clenched teeth, gripping the strands of his brunette curls. you felt him vibrate with a hum. 

“you’d eat him alive.” he chuckled, switching to your other nipple that was blistering with heat. your entire body radiated like the sun, but did no good beneath the moonlight. “what would he do—” a nip of his teeth against your nipple, you jolted, hips bucking forward with an anxious pension for friction. “with all of this?” 

you were at a loss for words, drowning in his sweetness. 

“let it go to waste…” lando dropped to his knees with a hand still firm on your back, the other raising the hem of your dress. he tsked, cheek flattening out against your thighs. he separated them with the strength of his neck, looking up at you from the bundled fabric. “a shame.” 

you agreed mercilessly, nodding your head with a whimper. it elicited a laugh from him. 

with a singular finger he pulled down your panties. the cotton was thin, as if you knew this would happen. they slid down your legs and you kicked them away. 

your hand was still threaded at the base of his neck, continuing to tug at his strands. it’s how you told him you needed him, but that wouldn’t be enough. not for lando.

“what do you want?” he asked, looking up at you from his seated position, face wedged between your legs. you gaped at him, breathless and flushed. 

“your mouth—” you pant, but before you could finish he licked a long stripe down your folds. “god, fuck—” 

“not god,” lando corrected. “just me, baby.” 

“lando, lando…!” you whined, back arching for a better angle for him to reach. he responded, humming against your clit, sending throttling vibrations up your navel. he was so fucking good. how? how could a man treat you in such a way? 

finding your writhing adorable, he finally let his tongue swipe past your entrance. the sensation was indescribable, but you knew that you needed more. and more he was willing to give, burying his face into your cunt. 

your honeyed cunt that he was addicted to. he knew you’d taste like heaven, but this was all the more holy than he could fathom. 

with his face buried inside of you, you were sure to see stars. here, beneath the moonlight of the italian villa, you were ethereal. he could steal glances up at you. your contorting face, toiling with passion. passion that he drank from the source, sucking you dry. 

his nose applied pressure to your clit— the perfect combination— and you knew that you weren’t going to last long. not with his jean paul scent invaded your senses, his thick hands cupping you so perfectly. one hand kneaded at the flesh of your thigh, the other swirling circles on your lower back. it was perfect. he’s perfect. 

“please, please,” you didn’t know what you were begging for. 

lando hummed, feeling your cunt clench around his tongue. he curled inside of you, teetering you upon your edge, and you were just about to let loose when he pulled his head away, leaving you trembling. 

he stood with ease, as if he wasn’t just devouring you, and you reached out for his hand. you were about to reach the peak of a mind blowing orgasm, but he denied you. with your hand wrapped around his, he knew how this would end. his lips came to your ear. 

“you were right,” he huffed. you felt his retentive anger. “don’t know if i’m nice.” 

he tugged you along through the house, hand upon your back steading your shaking stance. too impatient to help you up the steps, he swooped you into his arms bridal style. you gasped with a giggle, reflexive from his actions, and he burst open the door to his room with his shoulder. 

he dropped you onto his bed, ripping off his shirt in the process you propped yourself up on your elbows, gaping clearly at his tanned, toned skin. he smirked down at you, coming to hover above, and stripped the dress clean from your body. before him, you were bare, naked, more exposed than you've ever been with your brother’s best friend. 

you went to cover your chest, clamp your thighs shut, but lando refused. he trapped your wrists above your head, knee coming to separate your legs. you wiggled your hips hopelessly for friction, still wading heavy on your lost orgasm, but he didn’t let you graze his thigh. 

“you’re being mean,” you whined, attempting to twist out of his hold. but you didn’t prevail. 

lando’s lips met yours with a kiss of depravity. he pulled away, but you chased him, your head leveraging from the bed. 

“am i?” 

one hand left the hold on your wrists to touch your cunt. you were dripping down your thighs. he brought his fingers to his lips, wiping them clean. 

“think you like it, love.” 

you hissed when he took his hand from you, but relaxed when he kneaded one of your breasts. he was in utter reverence of your body, your beauty. you eclipsed all things that shined bright in his life, you becoming the epicenter. 

his pants were off in the next second, thrown to the corner of his room. his briefs, too, and his cock danced freely from its entrapment. your mouth watered. 

“this what you need?” his tip teased your entrance. your eyes rolled back into your head with a frenzied nod. “yeah? think you can take it?” 

“yes, yes! i can, i can, please lando…” your hand latched around the back of his neck, the other to his shoulder. 

it didn’t take him much convincing to surge forward, agonizingly slow, until he has inside of you. you choked on your breath, the air ripped right from you lungs with how he stretched you. it was alike no pleasure you’ve felt— his fingers, his tongue, all works of mastery— but you feared that nothing could compare to this. not when his hand around your breasts drop to your cunt, rubbing voracious circles against your clit. 

he let you adjust, waiting until you shook your hips from side to side, and bottomed out. it was surreal how you ended up here. but you wouldn’t go back. not for a second. not when his dick inside of you ripped through you with such passion, such love, you were inclined to imagine. 

lando’s own breaths were wild. erratic. he had to halt himself from slamming inside of you, your tightening, wet walls gleaning him of any morals he had come into this villa with. 

“move,” you urged him, breaking him free of this torment. his eyes flared wide. “need you to move.” 

need

such an all encompassing word that would drive him mad. 

he listened to you without hesitation. his hips slapping in and out of you with a heavy, dangerous pace, he never wanted this moment to end. it would feel like this every time he fucked you— the first, starstruck time— and that would be enough for him to lay to rest in an early grave.

both of you were a mess of moans, sounds of skin on skin echoing through his bedroom. the moonlight casted a white haze upon the pair of you, your eyes shimmering in the reflection. he was lost in it, in you, how seraphic you’d become in just the few days he’d been around you. how undone he became. he was a lost cause the minute you made a jest to him at the dinner table. 

his chest lowered to yours for a better, sweeter, angle and it had you screaming. your nails cut through his back, leaving reddened scratches against his tanned, freckled skin. he loved it. it had his pace quickening, and his hand working harder at your clit. you were close, he could feel it. 

feeling the way you began to tighten around him, how you became barely lucid beneath him. “so good,” you mewled, finding no other words but to praise him. 

“nothing compares,” he groaned, his head falling into the crook of your neck. “you’ll be mine then, yeah?” 

your heart surged in your chest, but your breathing remained the same. you were too fucked out to truly resonate the meaning behind his words. 

“yours, yours,” you repeated over and over until you were sent over the edge. you screamed his name, cutting through the air, cutting through him. he was left a sopping mess with his quivering hips, sloppy pace. you knew he was going to cum, too, when his teeth grinded together, and he let out a guttural moan. it churned your insides, swishing your heart through. 

he came inside of you. you felt it, the heat from his cock. but he made no effort to move. you didn’t want him to. 

the pair of you laid atop one another in his dark room. panting. catching your breaths. in unison your hearts would align. sweaty bodies melting against each other. 

his head was buried deep into your neck, breathing you in. you soothed him, just as much as you riled him to no end. 

“did you mean it?” you asked, voice hoarse. 

lando hummed. 

“about us.” 

you felt his teeth break into a smile against your skin. he raised his head to look at you. “i did.” your breath caught in your throat. “don’t give a shit what max’ll say. we’ll figure it out, won’t we?” 

you nodded in agreement. your brother would simply have to deal with this. he’d get over it in time, you’re sure, and it would be the best for both of you. no longer would you yearn at a distance for a man you thought didn’t spare you a second glance. no longer would you dream of this moment materializing before you. it had become a reality, and there was nothing more that you could be grateful for. 

he wanted you. lando wanted you. and you wanted him the same. it was one of the first times in your life that you felt safe. comforted in a newborn relationship. 

it wasn’t long before lando pulled the covers of his sheets over the two of you, holding you tight as you shifted into the shape of his body. you were a perfect fit, a missing puzzle piece that he’s been searching years for. 

and now you were here, sleeping soundly in his arms. 

lando had found sleep, too, his soft snores carrying through the room. you and him paid no attention to the fact you were sharing a bed. if anyone walked in, then they walked in. you were at peace, and that was enough.

sooner rather than later, the party-goers for the evening arrived home. they attempted their best to be quiet at such an odd hour, and decided to retire. max and chris went out to the balcony, however, and decided for a small chat. 

but before that could even commence, chris noticed a piece of black fabric loose on the patio. he stared at it from above, brows raised.

“mate,” he called max over. he met him at his side. 

“this yours?” he pointed down at it, and his face went ghastly white. no fucking way.

“motherfucker.”

tags ; @landoslutmeout @basicallyric @mybluesoul1 @toriiez @customsbyjcg-blog @sofs16@strengthandstay@mybluesoul1@f1fantasys@cmleitora @idgasb @amalialeclerc @laneyspaulding19 @staurdvst @oreosareara @sideboobrry11 @mortallyblueninja @fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot @fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch

[ddejavvu]

For Tyler Owens x shy!reader maybe it’s their first time sharing a bed at a motel after tornado chasing? Nothing sexual just like sharing a bed and being shy about it?

Heartbeat - Tyler Owens x Reader

please send me tyler owens requests!

You've always been envious of the universal man-ability to fall asleep within seconds of their heads hitting the pillow, but now you're feeling the hurt worse than ever. It's well past one in the morning, Tyler's been asleep for over an hour, and you've been staring at a suspicious patch of something that's probably mold in the corner of the motel room ceiling.

It's not the nicest place, but you're stranded in the middle of a backroad stretch of Arkansas, so any place with a roof, even a moldy one, is a nice place.

Tyler's phone rings, technically set to vibrate but humming nevertheless as it lights up the room. You're expecting him to sleep right through it but he stirs, extending a lazy hand to press at the power button until it stops buzzing. Then, with a hefty grunt, he heaves over onto his side, and comes sleepy-face to sleepy-face with you.

"Oh," He starts, eyes widening from where they'd been barely open, "You're-" He clears his throat, his voice raspy, "You're awake, darlin'?"

His strong arm wraps around your shoulders and pulls you close, drawing you into warmth you hadn't accumulated yourself despite laying for the same length of time. You huddle into it even though there's a fire burning your cheeks and scalding your mind.

When you don't answer, Tyler rambles sleepily, "Sorry, my- m'phone was goin' off. Some scam caller, 'm pretty sure. Were you-" A yawn cuts through his words, "Awake before that?"

"Mhm," You nod, thankful for the sanctuary of his clothed chest despite it being the reason you're so flustered.

"You ever get to sleep, sweet thing?"

That's the million-dollar question. Million-dollar question meaning the one you'd pay a million dollars to avoid answering.

Your answering hum is non-committal at best, but Tyler seems to know there's a reason you hadn't flat-out said yes.

"My poor baby," He frowns, bleary but still concerned, as he pulls back to free your face from his chest. You're still encircled by his impressive arm, though, and you can't meet his eye as he stares down at you.

"What's'a matter, honey-bun?"

"Hm?"

"Why can't you sleep?" He asks, then guesses, "Is it the smell'a mildew that's comin' off of everything?"

His bluntness startles you into laughter, but you know he expects an answer from the way he maintains your gaze, sympathy shining in his sweet, sleepy eyes.

Now starts the squirming, "Um, I dunno. I guess the bed's just not too comfy," You prod at the cheaply-made mattress beneath you, "And- I think I'm just not used to sleeping with other people, y'know, and then the bathroom fan makes a weird noise even when it's off-"

Your attempts to bury the lede had failed. Tyler's brows furrow and he leans in, your nose-to-nose positioning only making your bashfulness worse as he murmurs, "Is this the first time you're sharin' a bed with anyone, sweet thing?"

Even the little details, the soft gust of his breath on your face as he watches you makes your insides crawl with mortification. You're so close, and he's so there, and he's finally figured out that you've never done anything like this before, and- god, how do you play this off?

"No, I have, I- I've had, y'know, sleepovers with friends and, um, I had a cat growing up, that kind of thing. Just not-" You break away when your eyes flicker over his, and you hold eye contact for as long as possible, "Not like this. Nothing like this."

Tyler doesn't laugh, even though he probably really wants to. Even though you've probably made a complete fool out of yourself, and he's going to snicker at your predicament with his friends later, he doesn't laugh, and instead he- he presses a soft, barely-there kiss to your forehead.

"I think I'm a little more involved than a cat," He hums gently, "Are you okay with me touchin' you like this, angel baby?"

His arm is around your waist, and his face is up against your own- that's it. He's not getting handsy, not venturing lower than necessary or trying to shove his large hands beneath your clothes.

"You're not touching me." You attempt to answer, "Or- well, you are, but-"

"But it doesn't matter what I mean by it if you don't like it. So is it okay?"

You consider the feeling of his strong arm tucking you tight into his chest, as well as the intoxicating feeling of each breath he takes being fanned over your face, a privilege you hope you're the only one to have experienced.

"Yeah," You melt into his arms, even squirming closer as he lets you lead, "This is okay. It's- I like it."

"Good." He murmurs, and you feel it more than hear it from the way you're nestled against his chest, "What normally helps you fall asleep? Cat breath?"

"Maybe," You laugh, recalling your tuna-scented companion, "But I don't know. Just- this is nice. Your breathing and," You pause, listening, "The beat of your heart."

Tyler's fingers freeze a beat before they curl against your scalp, raking gently and soothingly through your hair.

"Good." He repeats, and you swear this one sounds shakier, almost thicker than the last one, "That's it, sweet thing, relax. I'll make sure you get to sleep. And tomorrow I'll act like a gentleman, 'won't just collapse into bed and get to snorin'. before you've even brushed your teeth."

Your laugh is the last one you release for the night- the last sound altogether besides the soft breathing that evens in your chest, and it's all funneled into Tyler's chest like a prize he's won.

[ijustwannahavefunn]

If you want to commission me, please email me at (ijwhfunncommission@gmail.com) It's easy to lose track of messages in social media DMs 😵 But, if you have questions about the commission, feel free to DM me!

🎨 Status:

-CLOSED

💀 Slots:

-I’ll open around 7 slots each month. If things changed, I’ll let you know!

👽 Payment:

-Paypal only if you are outside of Taiwan!

-Payment must be made fully upfront!

-Prices are in USD.

🙋 Usage:

The drawing is for personal use only! Please don't sell it (print it for sale, sell it online, etc.).

If you're interested in commissioning a commercial-use drawing, the price will be different. You can DM me for more info!

⏬ Here's all the detailed information (And Chinese translation) ⏬

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1XwNUE14uxCgDYkShehpUpvAw-yyh8bC0TyIaXiGHVUQ/edit?usp=drivesdk

Feel free to ask if you have any other questions! Thank you! ❤

[peanutpinet]

Protection - Sylus x Fem Hunter Reader

Prompt: When you were taking a stroll around the N109 zone, thinking that the brooch Sylus gave you would keep everyone out, but some men just couldn’t take a hint

A/N: We don’t really have much idea regarding the infrastructure of the N109 zone but I decided to keep it simple and make it somewhat like an actual city but ruthless yet lavish at the same time. Consider it more like Isle of the Lost from Descendants but more lavish in the sense that a lot of the rich corrupted people live here.

Warning: some cursing, degrading names (not from Sylus), protective yet aggressive Sylus (not aggressive towards MC), some other LADS characters mentioned (briefly), ending on a slight suggestive scene, not proofread

Disclaimer: I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest.

You were bored. Sylus was out for a business meeting whereas the twins were out cleaning up some mess that some of Sylus’ other henchmen created. Even Mephisto was nowhere to be seen. You’ve read the books you wanted to read in the library Sylus made for you. You even cleaned up the master bedroom, did laundry, and even updated your logbook regarding your findings on the aether core and about the N109, of course, you left out any significant details regarding Sylus and the twins in your logbook.

Sighing, you decided to walk through the penthouse that you were in until you noticed Sylus’ black card on his desk with a note attached next to it. “Did Mephisto come here just to deliver this card and note?” you thought to yourself as you opened the note

“I’m sorry that I might have to be back later than expected, sweetie. As compensation, here’s my card. Feel free to use any of the cars and buy anything you’d like. All charges on my card, of course. Wouldn’t want you to take out even a cent of your hunters’ savings. I’ll be back soon, sweetie. Mephisto will keep an eye on you but if anything happens, you call me and I’ll be there the second you ask me to”

At first, you thought that Sylus was teasing you because he has unlimited access to anything but then you decided to play along and use his card. You first used his card to pay for your rent, bills, and maybe decided to buy some gifts for your friends in Linkon, especially Tara.

As the day goes on, you finally decide to take one of Sylus’ cars and head out to grab some groceries, maybe head to a nearby restaurant or shop for something else. You first headed to the grocery store that was ridiculously priced. Well, what do you expect at a place that was exiled from everywhere else.

You were paying when one of the shopkeepers noticed your brooch and decided to give you a significant amount of discount. “S-sorry? Discount?” you questioned, as you were about to hand Sylus’ card which didn’t go unnoticed by the shopkeeper

“Yes. That brooch. It belongs to Onychinus and the card, it has Sylus’ name” the shopkeeper mentioned, making you even more confused

“O-okay, what does Sylus have to do with this? Did he threaten you?” you asked and the shopkeeper instead shook their head

“Oh dear no. It’s quite the opposite. Sylus actually helped us a long time ago. It was during his early days in the N109 zone, when he started to make a name for himself. He was quite the sweet boy. Despite not looking like it, he would always help the elders around. That’s why we would give discounts for him or anyone who wears that brooch which from what I remember, there were only 2 others, supposedly twins?” the shopkeeper mentioned while you just nod

After buying groceries, you decided to head to a nearby restaurant/bar. As you entered the place, you were again caught off guard by Sylus's influence in the N109 zone. Right as the receptionist was about to ask you about any reservation you’ve made until their eyes landed on the brooch you were wearing. Without saying anything else, they immediately directed you to a secluded area where along the way, you could feel everyone eyeing you; unsubtle whispering about the brooch that you were wearing.

“Isn’t that the Onychinus’ brooch?”

“Why is she wearing that brooch? No one has been able to get that brooch from Sylus at all”

“She’s probably his personal assistant or his personal whore”

You didn’t care about what they were saying about you but you were now more than intrigued about how valuable and influential Sylus truly was in this zone since he only needed the twins to clean up his mess. You didn’t realise that you had already been brought to your table until the waiter mentioned it to you. “Miss? Here’s your table. Please don’t hesitate to order anything or call us for anything at all. We’ll immediately charge it under Mr. Sylus’ name”

Before you could ask what the waiter meant with his second half of the sentence, he already left and you were all alone in a room upstairs of the restaurant where you could see the entirety of the place. Sighing, you decided to order some simple meals and while you were waiting, you decided to scroll on your phone where you got messages from Tara who asked how you were doing.

As your dinner came, you received another text message, this time was from Sylus. For once, you were actually excited despite seeing him practically every day.

“It seems you’ve gotten my message, kitten. I’ve also gotten several messages regarding your spending of the day. Though am a little disappointed that it’s nowhere near the amount I was expecting but we can change that overtime. I’m done with my business for the day and I’ll be seeing you soon. Sit tight, sweetie”

You then started to eat your dinner, just replying to some of your other colleagues when suddenly the waiter brought you a glass of wine. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t order this” you mentioned but instead, another voice came through the room you were in which confused you because you thought that only Sylus was allowed in here.

“I ordered for you. I saw you came into the restaurant and never have I seen anyone wearing that brooch other than Sylus or two of his minions come into here. You must be very special or have done something special to have gotten that brooch” the man came into the room as the waiter closed the door

You were about to call the waiter when the man stopped you. “Don’t bother. I owned the place. Now, what’s a pretty thing like you wearing that brooch doing here? Are you planning to have a meeting with someone? Or perhaps do business?”

“Is it wrong for a woman to be out on her own at a restaurant just to have time for herself and not be bothered by anyone?” you cuss back but instead of getting angry, the man only chuckled as he scoot closer to you while you were preparing for what he was going to do

“Of course not, there’s completely nothing wrong with that but you should know” the man came even closer, basically trapping you between the cushion and his slightly bigger figure. “Woman in the N109 zone are just pawns for us to get closer to a certain treasure. So, why not leave Sylus and just…”

He didn’t even get to utter any other word before you kicked his crotch, making him whine in pain. “You bitch” the man launch himself onto you but because you were a hunter, you were able to defend yourself and knock him down until he suddenly caught you off guard by swiping your leg and immediately got up to choke you onto the table.

Even as a hunter, you still struggle to find an opening, especially with your heart problems, you were gasping for air and even almost passed out had someone not removed the man off of you.

“It seems that the brooch isn’t enough message, is it, Max?” you heard Sylus’ voice as you felt a warm large hand wrapped around your waist comforting you; in contrast to the sharp tone Sylus was speaking with

You managed to take a quick glance and saw the man who you now know as Max was being choked by Sylus’ evol as the man of the hour seemed unfazed.

Within the few seconds you were in Sylus’ arm, you passed out from lack of air due to the choking and Sylus was internally trying to calm himself from what could have happened.

“S-sylus…you should know that killing me won’t give you the satisfaction you’re looking for” Max choked out. “Plus, you won’t be able to find a place for you to do personal business as you please”

Chuckling, Sylus turned to look at Max, his right eye was glowing to a brighter red hue. “You’re right. Killing you is too easy. It’s not satisfying at all. As for personal business, you don’t know me. I suggest you not make any assumptions regarding my business. But since you touched someone with the brooch, I think I should make myself clear to the entire zone, don’t you think this has become my business? So why don’t we continue this in my terms, hmm?”

Within a blink of an eye, Sylus teleported the three of you into this home and used his evol to chain Max. “Why don’t you hang around for a bit? I’ll be back. Don’t miss me too much, Max” Sylus chuckled to himself as he used his evol to tighten the chains around Max, especially around his neck

“B-boss? Miss hunter?” the twins were shocked to see you unconscious in Sylus’ arm while Sylus looks more annoyed with a hint of worry in his eyes

“She’ll be fine. Some sweat fucker touched her” Sylus mentioned, making the twins gasp in shock. “Even when she’s wearing the brooch?!” Luke questioned and Sylus nodded

“You two know what to do. Safe some fun for me though” Sylus smirked as the twins nodded. “Sure thing boss!!” with that, the twins went off to where Sylus imprisoned

Going into the master bedroom, Sylus laid you on the bed, helping you to take off your boots then going to take off his own coat before going to the bathroom to get a cold cloth for you.

Despite using his hands to harm and even take lives, you’re the only person he has ever been this gentle with. It’s as if one wrong touch and he could’ve done more harm instead of helping you. As Sylus was softly wiping your face, you slowly fluttered your eyes open and saw Sylus caressing your cheek. You slowly bring your hand to his hand that was on your cheek, calling out to him in a coarse voice.

“S-sylus?” you managed to call out to the man that’s in front of you

Sighing, Sylus was about to let go of your hand but you managed to hold his hand firmly in yours. “Sweetie, I’m just getting you water. I promise I’m not going anywhere” Sylus mentioned and only then did you slowly let go of his hand

Sylus took the glass of water he prepared for you and with his free hand gently snaked around your neck and pulled you up slowly, he brought the water to your mouth. “Drink. You need it” Sylus mentioned and you obliged

“Feeling better, sweetheart?” Sylus asked, placing the glass of water down but his other hand still holding your neck now also caressing it, making you hum. “Yeah, I’m okay. M’sorry for getting you tangled up in just a simple issue that I should’ve been able to handle” you apologised

“Why are you apologising?” Sylus questioned. “Sure, you’re a hunter but that doesn’t mean you're invincible and don’t need help. Needing help doesn’t mean you’re weak or unworthy of being a hunter, sweetie. There’s a reason why you need a partner” Sylus consoled you

“What about you then?” you asked back. “What about me, sweetheart?”

“Even if you can’t die, that doesn’t mean that you’re invincible either. Don’t you get hurt? Even if it’s not physically?” you questioned, making Sylus chuckle as he ruffled your hair

“Well, you mean like just now? Seeing you getting hurt and pinned down like that, gasping for air like your life depends on it. You might be physically hurt, but I’m also in pain. It pains me to see you in that state. In a state where you’re so vulnerable and unable to do anything, I almost burned the entire place down at that moment until I actually felt you in my arms and heard your heart slowly beating back at a normal pace” Sylus admitted, now cupping your face in his large hands

“I’m sorry for making you worried. I thought that the brooch would keep people away but it looks like some people just can’t take a hint” you sighed, trying to look away but instead, Sylus forced you to look at him. “Look at me, sweetheart” you turned to see Sylus whose eyes weren’t cold like they usually are. For once, it looked like his eyes were smiling

“It wasn’t your fault. What happened back there was out of your control. You’re right, some fuckers just can’t take a hint. So, instead of sulking about what happened in the past, why don’t we look past that and do other things?” Sylus smiled, brushing his nose against yours as he pressed his forehead on yours as well

“What other things would you do to help me get that image out of my mind, Mr Sylus?” you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck, making Sylus hold the back of your head with one of his hands while the other one was supporting his weight so he doesn’t crash onto you.

“Ooh? I can think of several ways to help ease your mind, kitten. Starting by giving you a different kind of mark that will ensure no one has the balls to even so much look at you” Sylus smirked, leaning to close the gap between the two of you

A/N: OMG thank you so so much to the LADS community for liking my first LADS/Sylus fic, I'm new to the game and community and am already fangirling hard T^T well, here's to a better mental health with the LADS men despite their tragic backstories :')

[incorrect-ironwidow]

LETS TALK ABOUT THE AO3 TAGS

Note: this post contains a small spoiler, without context or detail, from Heavenly Tyrant.

So, it came to my attention (and I know many of you have already noticed too), that Iron Widow has several incorrect tags on AO3. I will leave some of the main examples in a print below for those who haven't seen it yet, but in short, the tags in the drop-down menu and those suggested as "official" when you are going to post a new fic appear giving titles to the characters or relating their names in the books to the real names of Chinese historical figures.

@xiranjayzhao, more than once (and even in the Heavenly Tyrant acknowledgments), talked about how the characters, despite having similar names, are not made as a historical reinterpretation, their characters do not seek to be a new, realistic or faithful version of their historical names. Rather, they are inspired by that historical essence, being completely original to the books in which they appear. In other words, it is not right to give them historical titles or relate them to real historical names (as happens with the tags for Qin Zheng and Sima Yi) as if they were new faithful versions of those people.

I opened a ticket with AO3 support to explain the situation. Because, despite knowing that the tags are written by the fandom, just the fact that they are in the drop-down menu and are suggested when posting a new work already makes people feel influenced to use them (it shows that they have more views/are commonly searched/used). I am not sure how long it will take or if they can solve the situation (in fact, please, if there is any volunteer who works with AO3 I would be extremely grateful to hear from you about how we can solve the issue and what the site can do), but I know that avoiding the continued use of these tags can help.

And, that is why I am writing this long post, to talk to you; creators in our fandom!

To ensure that your work has the correct tags and so that our creations do not reinforce a misconception about the books, which the author has said many times was not their intention when writing the characters, we need to change (and start to not use) the tags in the drop-down menu and in the suggestions when the characters have titles and names that were never presented in the books. In other words, for the Iron Triangle tag that reads "Gao Yizhi/Emperor Taizong of Tang | Li Shimin/Empress Tianhou of Zhou | Wu Zetian" change it to "Gao Yizhi|Zhang Yizhi / Li Shimin / Wu Zetian", for the tag that reads "Empress Tianhou of Zhou | Wu Zetian/First Emperor of Qin | Qin Shihuang | Ying Zheng" change it to "Wu Zetian / Qin Zheng", and so on. The same goes for individual tags with character names, choose to write only the name of the character that appears in the book or, if you feel it needs more context, add "(Iron Widow)" after the name (like write "Sima Yi (Iron Widow)" if Sima Yi is a character at your work).

With time and use, I believe this may even influence the correct tags to be suggested and appear in the drop-down menu, making it easier to search for works from our fandom on AO3.

Anyway, if you have any questions about the issue or how to correctly tag your work, don't hesitate to ask, I'm here to help. And, if you want to add more to this discussion, please feel free to use the comments or reblogs!

That's it for now, I can't wait to see all the future content you'll create for Iron Widow/Heavenly Tyrant (especially with our little Valentine's event starting tomorrow)… <3

[interact-if]

Happy New Year everyone!

I’m delighted to announce that Interact-IF is officially back in business! I (Allie @allieebobo) will be taking the reins as the new mod, and I’m very excited to get this blog up and running again!

First, a heartfelt thank-you to the original mod team for everything they’ve built. Interact-if has become such an invaluable resource and hub for interactive fiction fans and authors alike. It’s a tough act to follow, but I’ll do my best to keep the spirit of this wonderful space alive :)

A little bit more about me: I’m the author of two WIP interactive fiction games, @collegetennisoriginstory and @merrycrisis-if. Interact-if was one of the first blogs/places that I discovered almost three years ago now, and it led me to so many amazing stories, authors, and resources.

When I saw that the blog was going into archive mode, with a call for a new generation of mods, I wanted to do my best to help out. I reached out to the original mod team and worked out a gameplan for the future of Interact-if, which I’d like to share with all of you today.

P.S. If you would like to join me, I’d love to have you on the team! Scroll down to the section on ‘open call for mods’.

Without further ado, here’s the plan!

My goal is to focus on retaining the aspects that made Interact-IF so special: spotlighting diverse authors, and creating a warm, inclusive space to talk about and share wonderful games.

🟢 Active:

Game Updates & Intros: If you’re an author with a new game or demo update, or if you’re organizing a game jam or event you’d like to share with the community, simply tag @interact-if in your posts, and I’ll reblog them. It would also be helpful if you added tags stating the IF's genre (e.g. horror, romance), has a demo/no demo.

Themed Author Features: I’ll continue the tradition of spotlighting authors and games based on monthly themes (e.g. Pride Month, Disability Month). These interviews are such a great way of celebrating diversity and inclusivity in the IF community, and I���d love to keep these going! Stay tuned for a detailed post on this soon!

Community Spotlight: Once every quarter, I’ll also do a call for reader recs around certain categories/themes (e.g. Fave RO, Fave Worldbuilding/setting, Fave plot-twist etc.) and compile these recommendations to share. Think of it as a bulletin of crowdsourced faves and a way of sharing a little note about an IF you love!

🟡 Remain open/active, but not modded:

Game directory: The Interact-IF repository of games (excel) will remain open for authors to update/list their games and/or readers to discover their next read. (Feel free to continue to update/populate the repository, though do note it will remain completely crowd-sourced/author-updated).

Discord: The discord will remain open and active for discussions, resource sharing, and casual chats, though again, this will not be officially modded (though I, and some of the original mods like roast, may be active from time to time)

🔴 Not active:

Asks: I will not be answering asks except for specific submissions (e.g. for author features, reader recommendations etc.). If you would like to ask for specific game recommendations, or have questions/just wanna chat, the discord channel is a great place to do just that! :)

Keeping track of events/game updates: As mentioned, I’ll rely on authors / readers to tag me in updates posts and/or flag any games with questionable content/anything that might need my attention, as I won't be able to search out update posts or do any extensive vetting.

Open call for mods:

Finally, I’d love to have some company! If you’re interested in helping out—whether with reblogs, interviews, or brainstorming new features—please reach out. Having a small team would make this space even more vibrant!

Thank you for your support, your enthusiasm, and for being part of what makes Interact-IF such a special corner of the internet! :)

If you have any suggestions or ideas on how Interact-If can be improved, feel free also to drop the blog a direct message or an ask. I look forward to getting to know all of you better. Here's to an awesome year of interactive fiction (and many more!)

[sheeezu]

My shifting guidebook.

This is my last post, as melodramatic as I was in my last post, since both the posts I've made on here and reddit i got busy with responding to dms (for those confused check my first post) so i didn't permashift.

Unfortunately i still couldn't respond to all the messages and questions sent to my inbox and dms, mainly because of the different time zones and general laziness from my side.

I appreciate everyone who asked questions, although i felt it's a bit unfair since the answers to very common problems didn't reach everyone, and i want everyone to shift, i want everyone to shift tonight, so i decided i'll make a post to share all my knowledge, whatever i know, sort of like a parting gift.

And this isn't going to be a beginners guide, mainly for people who need a final push, and most importantly, for emergency shifters.

Onto the questions (: Divided into categories, skip through according to your needs :)

Detachment from CR, attachment to DR:

How can i detach from my CR/attach to my DR?

Generally, detachment can be achieved by numbing your emotions in your CR. But first, I would advise you to refrain from extreme and unhealthy detachment, because you'll end up getting stuck in a endless cycle of messing up your CR and not shifting (because you'd have no control over yourself, which would lead to your subconscious getting grounded in the messed up version of your CR; assuming that unhealthy detachment is daydreaming about your DR all day without any sense of where you are, without a strong mindset, when you eventually snap back you'll think even more vividly of your CR)

But- "unhealthy" attachment can be utilised to your advantage, to shift, in a controlled manner.

Pick a day to shift, let it be a weekend. After dusk, only indulge yourself in your DR. (When you're sure you have free time and you won't be disturbed) for me, I hid under the blanket, with a fully charged phone, I spent a portion of the hours listening to subliminals, and a portion of the time scrolling through pinterest with spotify in the background (things that remind you of your DR)

I recommend listening to detachment from CR and attachment to DR subs, and if you are a permashifter, and it's your deadline, go all out.

This is my advice for detachment from CR during the day, during the method it'll be different.

How can I detach from my CR while I'm shifting? I can't divert my attention away from my CR body/mind.

I'm writing in the pov of my own method.

The only way you can let go of the CR while you're shifting is with a calm mind. If you're overthinking about how you're going to carry out your method, whether you'd wake back in your CR, you'll have trouble reaching a detached state.

To detach, first of all, make yourself comfortable, do not try to force yourself into doing something, or laying in a position which makes you uncomfortable. Next, think of thoughts which pushes your CR to the side, your CR is just another reality, and you're the creator of it, treat it like its any other pebble on the road.

Affs: (again, void reality meaning your CR)

"Void reality? Huh, can't seem to remember what that is..."

"It's so peaceful not being in the void reality, going to fix it when I eventually return from my DR" (I vividly remember saying this, if you're a permashifter, make it so it fits your situation)

"..."

(Not saying anything says a lot, fall numb to your void reality and go onto your DR)

Remember, you're not answerable to your CR, its not your boss or captor, it's actually the opposite.

To attach to your DR during the method, in the middle phase of my method, say identity affs until you feel familiarise with your DR self, think of memories, have a small conversation with your DR loved ones, do a small rewind of your DR life in your mind, so you can ground yourself. I won't be going into much details on how to shift by becoming your DR self, my first post says it all.

How to detach from CR body?

Detaching your thoughts is basically detaching your CR body, the 30 second black out state is basically a window to shifting, because when your CR shuts up for a even just a few seconds it will give you the opportunity to divert your attention to your DR, no matter how fidgety you are.

Problems faced while shifting:

Something always itches me when I try to shift, any advice?

Before you're shifting, take a look at you're environmental factors, why are you feeling itchy in the first place?

If it isn't bugs, dry skin, I recall that during the method some symptoms are just itchiness.

Say affs to block off your senses first of all, until then try to control yourself

Affs:

"I have stopped sensing my void reality (CR)"

"I have stopped hearing, feeling, seeing my void reality"

If the need gets overwhelming and you're just starting your method, make yourself comfortable and move a bit, or just itch it, you can still shift.

I always fall asleep when I try to shift, what should I do?

During the day you're going to shift, and you know you're just tired and lack sleep, take a nap during the day.

If you didn't nap, or just generally feel sleepy still, turn my method into a sleep method, by letting yourself fall asleep while you're actively acting, thinking like your DR self (you'll wake up in your DR the next day)

Sleeping is a good tool for shifting, especially if you're starting to doze off while doing your method, you can achieve other states such as sleep paralysis, lucid dreaming or mind awake body asleep state, so don't get discouraged, if you prefer awake methods, there are some subliminals you can use to stay awake.

I always fear or dread shifting while doing my method and back out at the last minute.

(Copypasted from reddit)

Familiarise yourself with your DR, it's not scary if you know where you're laying, who you are, what's next to you and who's going to be in the room.

If you already start acting like your DR self then in theory fear shouldn't be here (why would you be scared being yourself in an environment which is supposed to be familiar to you?)

It also depends upon the kind of fear

Fear of spirits snatching your soul mid shift - listen to safety and protection subliminals (no, I wasn't personally possessed by demons last minute but it will put your mind at ease)

Fear of the unknown - familiarise yourself with your DR and shifting

Fear of symptoms - don't focus on them

Just know that nothing fearful will exist as long as you don't allow it to exist, you're the creator of your reality.

Trouble focusing while shifting.

Once you're even a tad bit detached from your CR, you would have no trouble focusing, because it's only your CR body's mind which is causing you trouble, the semi-void state in my method (when you don't feel your body that much, you force yourself to not have thoughts) is all you need to do to go onto the next phase of your method, and trust me, it'll feel very easy for you.

Prior to shifting, listen to frequencies, subliminals, basically flood your subconscious with your desired affs (calm mind subs, focus subs, general shifting and void state subliminals) when you're shifting, stare at the blackness and think of it as a milky way, like you're stargazing, I don't know why but your hyperfixation allows you to focus; count to a hundred, visualise your DR memories, youll eventually reach a trance state where you're focused and ready to shift. (if you can't visualise, then think of it in the form of a story)

Misc:

For folks with ADHD:

(Copy pasted from reddit)

I'd recommend try listening to subliminal (especially bundles) when you aren't feeling like doing anything or if you think your messing up.

Also try to keep yourself as comfortable as possible, if you can distract yourself in a way you aren't attached to your CR activities, for example watching movies or shows or youtube video which require minimal effort and attention

And im saying this only if you're utilizing a single day for shifting, or practicing LOA

while doing the method, i'd try to use as less time as possible, and if you feel off, then you can open your eyes and try the method after a small break.

Can I shift to-

Yes, yes, yes. You can shift to anywhere your mind can think up of, it really is that simple. You can shift to the past, shift to prevent a certain event, you can shift to a reality with a confusing concept, you can shift to become a chair.

Did you shift to a animated DR? How was it like?

I shifted to a pokemon DR where I studied pokemons for a living, but I quickly shifted back after 2 days because I got bored.

Personally for me I get creeped out of anything that's eerie or out of the ordinary.

So basically I scripted that it'll feel normal and I wouldn't even question it.

So I didn't, and now that I think about it, everything was proper, people had noses it wad 3D and everything, so just this reality except everyone looked unnaturally good and the world's graphic were different. If the entire world looks the same then nothing feels weird.

Your opinion on clones/time period?

I don't really care about clones or what they are, mainly because I believe in the consciousness theory, and the multiverse theory is a subdivision of consciousness theory, you basically let yourself believe there is a multiverse and for that reason it exists.

So in perceptive of the multiverse theory, your "clone" is just a body, which comes under your command or control.

It can't mess up your CR life, it'll make the same choices as you like you would have made if you were present in your CR.

Personally I had scripted that when I shift back I will wake up the next morning, following the night when I was shifting.

So my "clone" was just sleeping.

Secondly, stop stressing over your clone,

It'll just do what you want it to do, or just live life how you'd normally would

If you script your clone is a superhuman for the time you're in you DR, you'll shift back to a parallel reality of your CR where a superhuman lived your life for a while, but if you want you can just shift to a better CR like I did.

...

Those are all questions that came in my mind, I tried looking back into the chats and inbox to find more commonly asked questions or something I didn't clarify in my first post but most other questions had straight forward or a clear enough answer.

I really wanted to expand this post with more sections and questions, but in my opinion my first and this post combined are a lot of their own, I think I clarified a lot.

It's been a week being on Tumblr, and I loved helping people out, everyone was kind and unique in their own ways, I looked through my followers scripts and blogs and I enjoyed everyone's dedication to shifting, and their DRs (btw, I hadn't expected to get so many follows and notes, I'm genuinely suprised even now)

It had been a lovely experience being on shiftblr, in my opinion it's the best shifting, or just generally the best community on the internet.

As much as I would like to stay and blog regularly on here, I have to go back home, I'm permashifting in (from the time this post went up) 7 hours, and this time I'm not staying, so refrain from asking me questions after that, I won't respond, but this post will still be up.

Farewell, I hope your shifting journey conclude today and each of you live happily in your DR, with your well deserved love, respect and peace.

Goodbye c:

(Within the 7 hours, I may be partially active, if there is any question that is truly different and a genuine struggle for you, inbox me, I'll try my best to answer; I may as well post my DR script in my last few hours, since some people asked, remind me if I forget; also not posting on reddit, ive already annoyed the mods so much by breaking several rules)

[sakumz]

____________________________________________

[ a. harumasa x fem reader ]

____________________________________________

" come on the situation isn't that bad, " harumasa says as yanagi shakes her head.

" you're right, it isn't that bad. " you mocked, " it's terrible! " you slam open the door of section six office, as all heads turn to you. what was the section one slave doing here? sure you were in charge of checking their files here and there, same with them to yours. harumasa drop the file yanagi handed him earlier upon your arrival. sweat dripping down his forehead. was it really that terrible?

" ms l/n, you reek of alcohol. " miyabi starts as she gets down from her stool, hand on the hilt of her sword as you shake your head.

" wasn't section one having a party to celebrate your newly promoted chief? " soukaku questions.

" I only drank one can, I'm not drunk! " you scold.

" anyways you're all allowed to go home, except you, mr asaba harumasa! " they didn't press further but obliged, yanagi can only pray you go easy on him.

" come on was it that terrible? " you can't help but glare dangers. his work these days are incomprehensible. he was supposed to write a report about the recent hollow case. was it that hard to recall everything from start to finish without missing any details? he didn't even describe what ethereals was in it.

" yes it was, " you jab a finger to his chest, making him fall back on his chair. he swiddle around before pushing himself to his table.

" please rewrite the report or I'll make you write more. " he sighs, playfully putting his head down. you lean down to meet his face as he close his eyes. was he going to sleep?

" hey, don't sleep, " you poke his forehead as he shot up straight.

" if you're gonna stay with me, why don't you write it? I'll tell you the details, " you can't help but let out a frustrated sigh. was he really not going to do his work? it's just one report!

" you'll be free to go if you complete this earlier, you know. "

" I don't feel like doing it... " he sighs as he place his head down again.

few minutes past as awkward silence engulfs the room, you pull the chair next to his. he's eating up your time. how can he fall asleep after a scolding? or a bickering... either way how can he sleep during a situation like this!

" hey, if you do this report I'll do whatever you want. " you ruffle his hair, as he sat straight, stretching as he look at you, eyes beaming at your words.

" anything you say? " he teased as you regret your words.

" yes anything, but you better write the report correctly and properly within one hour! " you watch as he quickly turns on the computer smashing keys after keys as he ponders in between. it's pretty comical how he suddenly wants to vanquish his report.

you glance at the clock from time to time, he's focused on the task at hand. with one final key smash, his paper was printed as he went to grab it for you. handing it over as he stood in front of you. you flip and skim through the pages, pleased that whatever he wrote at least made sense and is connected.

" well, goodjob and thanks for the report. I'll submit it for you, " you stood up as his hands quickly fly over to your shoulder, pressing you back down on the chair. he's got you trap between him.

" are you forgetting something, miss? " he leans forwards, staring into your soul as a blush finds its way over to your face. this is the first he's ever been close to you. you push the paper over to your face, trying to cover your face and calm your raging heart.

" what did I-I forget? " how you wish you didn't tell him, you'll do whatever he wants, so he'll finish his report and let you go home at least before midnight.

he pulls the paper down, smirking at your shyness or fake ignorance. you didn't forget the promise.

" I was gonna ask for a date for my hardwork but maybe a date isn't enough. " you stare at him as your blush just keeps growing. your hands starts to feel sweaty, is this guy serious?

" be my girlfriend. " he smiles as you push him off but he doesn't budge.

" I say I'll do whatever you want- "

" do be my girlfriend, " he beams even brighter if that was even possible.

" and as my girlfriend, you should give your very hardworking boyfriend a kiss for doing a goodjob on his report, " he purse his lips, making a ' muah ' sound.

maybe it's time to face the music, you do like him and you hope this isn't a prank or anything. you did say you'll do whatever and if what he says it's true he did save a lot of time from beating around the bush and confessing.

" are you being serious right now? " he stop as he looks at you offended.

" I'm always serious when it's you, girlfriend. " he winks as you cringe.

" come on, give me that kiss and we can go home! "

you close your eyes and lean in, aiming to give a kiss to his cheek but he was quick to lean in and steal your lips with his. your eyes shot open, he place a hand behind your head. when he pulls away to catch his breath, you were starstruck. he leans again as you slap your hands over his lips.

" you said a kiss. " you can't help the silly smile threatening to crawl when he pouts, shoulder dropping at the rejection. he pulls away as he stood up, taking your hand in his.

" fine fine, more kisses will come anyways. let's take you home, " he drags you away and walks you to your apartment.

when he bids you farewell at your doorstep, he did kiss you once again. wishing you a very goodnight as you said the same.

to say the least this bro won't do shit when he's feeling extra tired or lazy so you'll have to step in and reward him with kisses or hugs and mostly both. it has been an occurrence in section six almost everyday, that yanagi has to physically pry you away when harumasa can't let go of you when he hugs you. you pat his head as you say goodbye as he weeps on his desk jokingly...

[majikkulu]

━━ ❝MASTERLIST❞

in this pick-a-card reading, we’ll dive into what people really have to say about you—whether it’s glowing praise or secret whispers. what’s the tea they spill when you’re not around? remember, this is a general reading — take what resonates and leave the rest.

if  you  have  any  ideas  for  tarot  pacs  you'd  like  me  to  do,  feel  free  to  drop  them  in  my  ask  box,  and  i'll  make  it  happen!

choose the picture or pile that calls to you and let the magic unfold!

PILE ONE i  can  tell  this  pile  feels  personal—what  people  say  about  you  hits  close  to  home.  they  think  you're  indecisive,  struggling  to  take  action  or  follow  through  on  what  you  said  you'd  do.  it  frustrates  them;  they  feel  like  you  can’t  commit  to  certain  things.  some  even  say  you’re  guarded,  mysterious,  hard  to  read.  and  that  only  makes  them  more  curious—what’s  really  beneath  all  of  that?  there’s  also  this  idea  that  you  avoid  confrontation,  preferring  to  stay  neutral.  while  some  see  that  as  wise,  others  view  it  as  passivity,  like  you’re  afraid  to  stand  your  ground.  interestingly,  one  specific  person  seems  to  stand  out  here.  they’re  obsessively  focused  on  you,  constantly  talking  about  you.  they  might  discuss  things  you’ve  been  through—maybe  toxic  relationships,  bad  habits,  or  difficult  patterns.  but  it’s  not  all  criticism.  a  lot  of  people  are  fascinated  by  you.  they  find  you  magnetic,  charming,  even  alluring.  some  are  jealous,  though.  they  notice  your  sensitivity—maybe  they’ve  seen  you  cry  or  assume  you’re  the  type  to  cry  in  public.  they  might  even  think  you  look  younger  than  you  are,  which  makes  them  wonder  about  your  age.  there’s  also  talk  about  your  creativity.  whether  it’s  how  you  dress  or  how  you  express  yourself  artistically,  it  leaves  an  impression.  and  then  there’s  the  assumption  that  you’ve  “got  it  all.”  some  think  you’re  rich  or  incredibly  successful,  even  if  you  don’t  feel  that  way  yourself.  maybe  something  big  happened  recently—an  achievement,  a  win,  or  an  opportunity  that  others  wanted.  it’s  clear  they  see  your  potential,  and  that  potential  is  both  admired  and  envied.  people  question  if  it’s  luck  or  hard  work  that  gets  you  where  you  are.

PILE TWO people  talk  about  how  cautious  you  are,  how  you  take  your  time  with  everything,  and  how  you  question  every  little  detail.  to  them,  it  might  come  off  as  overly  slow  or  even  boring  because  you’re  not  impulsive.  they  see  you  as  someone  who  hesitates  or  spends  too  long  planning  before  acting,  and  some  might  say  you’re  no  fun  because  of  it.  they  notice  how  you  like  to  have  a  plan  for  everything,  but  they  don’t  realize  that  beneath  that  calm  surface  lies  an  inner  beast—a  strength  they  can’t  begin  to  comprehend.  you  handle  things  with  patience  and  emotional  control,  and  people  see  that.  they  talk  about  how  calm  you  remain,  even  in  serious  or  emotional  situations.  it’s  like  nothing  can  shake  you,  and  that  composure  either  impresses  or  frustrates  them.  some  gossip  that  your  strength  borders  on  stubbornness,  but  let’s  be  real—that  envy  stems  from  wishing  they  had  the  kind  of  self-control  you  do.  there’s  competition  swirling  around  you,  even  if  you  don’t  see  it.  people  notice  how  you  deal  with  disagreements  and  conflicts.  you’re  unbothered,  and  that  drives  them  crazy.  they  might  talk  about  how  you’re  not  afraid  to  speak  up,  even  if  it  causes  tension.  they  focus  on  how  you  defend  yourself,  how  you  never  back  down,  even  in  situations  where  others  think  you  should.  they  see  you  as  determined,  standing  firm  in  your  beliefs  and  decisions,  and  that  resilience  makes  some  people  misunderstand  or  even  resent  you.  it’s  funny,  though—they  think  you  provoke  them  with  how  you  respond  or  even  just  with  your  presence.  your  energy  bothers  them,  but  that’s  their  problem,  not  yours.  you  stand  your  ground,  and  that’s  what  really  sets  you  apart.

PILE THREE people  gossip  a  lot  about  your  quiet  nature  and  what’s  going  on  in  your  life  behind  the  scenes.  they’re  curious  about  what  you’re  up  to,  especially  since  you  keep  things  so  private.  it’s  like  your  silence  sparks  endless  speculation.  some  even  find  you  suspicious,  questioning  your  motives,  intentions,  or  honesty—accusing  you  of  being  manipulative  or  using  tricks.  there’s  talk  about  you  avoiding  confrontation  or  shying  away  from  taking  responsibility,  and  for  some,  this  feeds  into  the  narrative  of  you  being  a  liar.  there’s  a  sense  that  you’ve  distanced  yourself  from  people,  maybe  even  withdrawn  completely.  this  makes  others  wonder  what  you’re  searching  for—your  purpose  or  direction  in  life.  your  quietness,  while  intriguing,  can  make  you  hard  to  approach.  some  feel  like  they  can’t  fully  connect  with  you,  as  if  you’re  masking  your  true  self  or  staying  intentionally  detached.  on  the  other  side,  there  are  those  who  admire  you.  they  see  you  as  wise  and  insightful,  someone  who  remains  calm  and  composed  even  under  pressure.  your  guarded  nature  and  emotional  detachment  make  you  magnetic  in  a  way  that  draws  people  in,  even  if  they  don’t  fully  understand  you.  they  gossip  about  how  cautious  and  hesitant  you  are  to  take  bold  risks,  calling  you  predictable.  yet,  they  also  acknowledge  your  ability  to  handle  life’s  ups  and  downs  with  grace  and  poise.  whether  people  envy,  misunderstand,  or  admire  you,  it’s  clear  that  your  energy  leaves  a  lasting  impression.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

NERD!ANAKIN HEADCANONS

TW: at some point it contains sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort.

Author's note: thinking about some nerd!anakin fic where he had heard the reader talk with her friends that she's not passing physics and since he has the biggest crush on her since second grade he later suggest to help her..if she'll help him with something else ;)

Nerd!Anakin who inside was a little dirty minded boy that wished nothing more to have a loving girlfriend to do with her all the cool, nice things he always wanted to do (and he meant more joyful activities than sex)

Nerd!Anakin who has a collection of technical manuals and scientific holobooks that he reads in his spare time. His nightstand is filled with them, and he gets excited when a new one comes out. He’ll stay up late, curled up on the couch, devouring a manual on hyperdrive mechanics or some obscure sci-fi novel, eyes glued to the hologram.

He also loves telling you all about the technical details of what he's learning. You may not always understand everything he’s talking about, but his excitement is so adorable that you just let him ramble on.

Nerd!Anakin who has a soft spot for droids, and he might even give them 'upgrades' just because he thinks they deserve a treat. “You’ve been working hard, buddy. How about a new power cell?”. He’ll talk to them while he works, explaining what he’s doing like they’re his assistants (his fav is R2D2 obviously)

Nerd!Anakin who gets ridiculously excited about the latest gadgets or tech upgrades. When something new comes out, he’s like a kid in a candy store. Whether it's a new holo-terminal, a high-speed pod engine - he’s always the first in line to get it. He’ll show it off to you, explaining every little detail with enthusiasm. “Look at this! It has a new feature that triples efficiency!” He gets that adorable spark in his eye, completely geeking out over the smallest improvements.

Nerd!Anakin who would love when you'd do your nails; he'd ask soon later (when you two are alone) if you could play with his hair to only feel you scratch very gently against his scalp

Nerd!Anakin who was a great whimpering mess whenever you touched him (poor guy had never felt woman's touch before);

a sharp gasp left his mouth as you touched the mushroomy tip of his member, his hips jerking towards you without thought. he was already embarrassingly close, and now your teasing was only driving him closer to the edge “please-“ he let out a pleading moan, the words barely leaving his dry mouth

"please what ani? Use your words like good boys do"

He tried to focus enough to form a coherent sentence but it was getting so hard when all his mind could focus on, was the way you made him feel “I’m close-“ he gasped out, his hips rocking frantically against your tightening fist “I’m so close baby, i need it” he let out a sobbing whimper

"can you hold it in a little?" you asked gently

he groaned at the question before nodding almost desperately “for you, anything” his glasses sliding down his nose

You only hummed, all proud of your actions. How easily you could tear him apart by your single touch. Using her free hand to move his glasses so they were a bit more comfortable on him. You increased your movements, making sure to

he could feel the heat in his abdomen tighten as your hand moved faster. he was struggling to keep himself together, not much to your surprise "oh-oh god-“ he let out a loud gasp and a groan as your thumb moved over his tip again, that little touch sending electricity up his spine “oh-fuck…” one hand digging into the couch for some kind of grip “I can’t hold it—please please please” tears of desperation and overwhelming began to prick at the corner of his eyes

Nerd!Anakin who when was nervous, draw circles and designs on the back of your hand to relax himself

Nerd!Anakin who did your own minifigure from Legos

Nerd!Anakin who always had perfectly ironed shirts

Nerd!Anakin who in general was perfectionist in everything he'd do. If he had a mess in his room, he couldn't focus normally. If just one thing was moved inches apart, it drove him wild

Nerd!Anakin who made cupcakes with his mother for you

Nerd!Anakin who's a true mommy's boy

Nerd!Anakin who teared up after you gave him his first blowjob. He felt so overstimulated when his thick member was hugged around your warm throat, your tongue working on his shaft..it was way too much for the first time, he'd gasp and ask you to slow down because if you wouldn't, you'd already have his cum dripping down your throat

Nerd!Anakin who gave you flowers - sometimes real one and sometimes he'd do them from origamy

Nerd!Anakin who has a little sketchbook where he draws schematics for future projects—droid designs, custom technology accessories, etc. He’s always thinking of new ways to improve things, and his sketches are filled with intricate details and notes.

Sometimes, he’ll show you a design he’s particularly proud of, grinning ear to ear as he explains how it works. “What do you think? Pretty sleek, huh?”

Nerd!Anakin who was a true worshipper of your body. Would press such gentle kisses all over your body as if you were a ceramic doll he was scared to break

Nerd!Anakin who's glasses got foggy everytime he made love to you, his curls sticking to his forehead and his pinky, swollen lips quivering to hold back his own orgasm

Nerd!Anakin who adored math and physics (but not as much as he adored you). And of course, he loved to help you with those subjects

Nerd!Anakin ho invited you to weekly movie marathon. With all the snacks ready and a fluffy blanket

Nerd!Anakin who adored to cuddle with you. It was something so precious for him, and whenever he had a chance, he'd just wrap his arms around your waist from behind and nuzzle to your soft neck

Nerd!Anakin who liked to play with your hair like brushing them out of your face, twirling the strand around his finger and watch intensively, as if it was the most important/gorgeous/captivating sight he had seen, how it hugged his finger so perfectly

Nerd!Anakin who had his 'sexual education' with you;

Anakin hesitantly reached out, his hand trembling as he lifted it towards your chest. He hesitates for a moment once more, not sure if he's ready to do that. He just felt so sinful watching you naked..but oh so good.. so, before the thoughts would envelope his entire mind, he gently cupped one of your round, full breasts. He instantly marveled at, not only the softeneness but the weight, the way it filled his palm, how it was so beautiful, seeing your raspberry ripple hidden thanks to his large hand made him feel so fuzzy all inside

As he squeezed the soft globe tentatively, feeling its weight sprawl all over his senses, he couldn't help but let out a low moan, his body responding to the newfound pleasure. Guilty feelings fade away, leaving him all needy for more of you. His fingertips graze over your nipple to harden it, eliciting a soft gasp from both of you. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with wonder. "I-how i-" he stuttered shyly "-what should I do now?"

"whatever you want..you can kiss it, play with it, anything you want Annie"

Anakin's eyes widen at your words. To have the whole access to your body felt more pleasurable than anything in his life. He leaned in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to the underside of your breast. You gazed down at how his glasses pressed against your skin, making your breath hitched. He then brought his hand up to gently squeeze and caress the soft mound at your left breast, almost nuzzling to the right one. He looked back up at you, seeking approval, as if not sure if he could go any further

"go on, they're all yours" you encouraged

Anakin smiles shyly at your encouragement, feeling emboldened. He starts to kiss and lick at your breasts, alternating between the two. He gently nibbles on your nipples, sucking on them and releasing them with soft popping sounds. "Ahh... they're so soft... and t-tasty..." he mumbled the last part more quietly, as if embarrassed that he actually thought about your breasts in that way

he accidentally uses a bit too much pressure with his teeth, causing you to hiss in pain. He immediately freezes, his eyes filled with worry. "I'm so sorry... did I hurt you?" His voice soft, laced with adorable concern.

"no--its okay..just try to use a little less teeth..and relax"

Anakin nods, his expression turning gentle again. He leans back in, this time more careful, his touch feather-light. He alternates between sucking and licking, paying close attention to the way you react to his touch. "Like this?" He asks softly, his voice muffled against your skin.

"just like that" you tugged on his curls

After the moaned sentence left your mouth, Anakin felt a surge of pride. He continues his gentle ministrations, his own body growing harder with each passing moment. He looks up at you,l with his eyes hooded. "Can I... can I kiss you lower now?"

Nerd!Anakin who was scared to eat you out at first, cause it'd be his very much first pussy. But when he did, he had no idea how to do it. He used his teeth a little too much, his tongue a bit too forceful but in time he got better

Nerd!Anakin who loves space documentaries. He'll make you sit with him on the couch to watch them, enthusiastically pointing out facts you didn’t even know he knew. He’s the type to lean over and say things like, “Did you know that this system’s star is actually binary? And it formed 4.6 billion years ago?”

Nerd!Anakin who uses cheesy, nerdy pick-up lines that leave you both laughing. He’s the kind of guy who would say, “Are you made of copper and tellurium? Because you’re Cu-Te.” He says it with so much confidence that you can’t help but find it endearing.

When you tease him about it, he’ll get all flustered, scratching the back of his head with that sheepish grin. “I thought it was clever..and you'd like it, maybe give me a small kiss or something.."

Nerd!Anakin who is fiercely protective of his tech projects. If someone tries to mess with them or touch his tools without asking, he’ll get all defensive. “Hey, be careful with that! I’ve been working on this for weeks.”

But when it’s you? He lets you mess with his projects all you want, even if it makes him a bit nervous. He’ll give you a dorky smile and say, “Just don’t break it, okay?” But secretly, he loves sharing his passions with you.

Nerd!Anakin who, as smart as he is with machines, is absolutely terrible in the kitchen. He’ll try to make you dinner as a sweet surprise, but something always goes wrong—he burns the food, the recipe doesn’t turn out, or the kitchen ends up looking like a disaster zone.

He’ll stand there, looking embarrassed but hopeful, holding a burnt dish with a lopsided grin. “Uh, it’s a little... crispy..”

Nerd!Anakin who leaves you small, nerdy notes;

On a sticky note on your fridge

"You’re the binary star to my existence. Without you, my orbit is off. Also, I reprogrammed the toaster. You're welcome.”

In your notebook or planner

“If I could rewrite the laws of physics, I'd bend space-time just to spend an extra 5 minutes with you.”

"The only code I can’t crack? How you make my heart race this fast.

Tucked inside your favorite book

“You're like the perfect algorithm: complex, beautiful, and always leaving me wanting to solve the equation that is you.”

On your desk after a long day

“You must have a gravity field around you, because I can't seem to stay away. P.S. Check under the desk, I might've added a small modification.”

Next to your coffee in the morning

"You must be a supernova, because you light up my entire galaxy."

Left on the keyboard of your laptop

“I may be fluent in over 6 million forms of communication, but none can express how much you mean to me. Except maybe binary: 01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101.”

On a scrap of paper in your bag

“If life were an RPG, you’d be the rarest item—a perfect balance of stats, charisma, and intelligence. Also, +100 beauty.”

Tucked in between your sketchpad pages (if you're into art)

“You’re the canvas, I’m the artist... together, we create the perfect masterpiece. P.S. I’m still better at drawing starships though.”

Left in your lunchbox

“Did you know you increase productivity in starship repairs by 43% just by being near me? I’d call that a superpower.”

Taped to a little DIY gadget he made for you

“This little thing is just like you—ingenious and holds everything together. Also, try pressing the blue button for a surprise.”

Next to your favorite snack

“You’re like the perfect engineering schematic: flawless in design, and I can’t stop marveling at the details.”

In your locker

"I’d cross the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs just to see your smile."

“Did you know a day on Venus is longer than a year? Just like how waiting to see you again feels like”

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet (I have not forgot about you now ;) )

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | 07

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.

It's easy for you to pretend everything's fine.

You've been worried about the whole Aaron situation for the past week, but you couldn't let that be known. You were handling it—best you could—but, at least, it sets your priorities a bit straighter. You realize whatever the outcome is, you need Rafe to get this job.

So, you were going to play the hell out of the girlfriend role.

To get ready, Rafe picks you up from Sailor to take you to Tannyhill. This time, when you got into the car, it was met with complete silence.

"Hey," you greet, to which Rafe says nothing as he reverses out of the lot and returns to the road. You remember that Rafe doesn't function normally whenever he has these types of events. He's probably nervous about the upcoming gala, a need to impress his father once more and prove to Ward that he's capable. You don't hold it against him. "Okay, then."

You settle back against the leather seat. You weren't going to let him ruin your performance; the curated mood you set up for tonight. You were going to hold out till the gala was over.

Rafe glances over to you once he knows you're looking away. Your chin tucked in your palm as you watch the scenery outside the window. Something pinch in his chest.

His right hand slides over your thigh, exposed from your short work attire, and the warm touch surprises you. You turn back to the blond, tilting your head with a small smile. "Ready to talk to me?"

"Don't push it."

You laugh and the tension in his shoulders loosens. The sound always feels like a constant mark of normalcy.

"Who's watching your sisters tonight?"

"Huh?" You respond, the question caught you off-guard and you wonder if you misheard him. "Oh. Oh. I got a babysitter for them. They should be fine till tomorrow."

He nods, knowing he shouldn’t have asked but having done it anyway. "You could've let them stay at Tannyhill. I have people to watch them for free."

He pauses, holding his breath as he waits for your response. Very few people get this offer and the fear of rejection hangs over him.

"Nice try, darling," you tease, falling back to a sense of comfort, "but I'm fine. I got it figured out."

He‘s not surprised by your answer, but it annoys him nonetheless.

When you reach Tannyhill, you didn't bother to wait for Rafe to give you the boyfriend experience. You knew he wouldn't. Instead, you went ahead and opened the car door yourself, heading straight for the porch.

Rafe was just about to cross over to the passenger side.

Following suit, he unlocks the front door and grants you entry. You step inside, reveling in the details of the estate. Despite only being here a few times, you can recall the key pieces of the house—the crystal chandelier with dangling pendants, the cabinets of beautiful collector items from the Bahamas, the flowery display that Rose curates in her free time. You immediately check off all their placement in your head, strolling over to the staircase to ascend.

"Know your way around my house, huh?" Rafe taunts, sticking his hands in his pockets. You glance over your shoulders with an easy grin.

"Just trying to take notes for the next Mrs. Cameron. Don't worry, it's not for me." You wink, turning back around before you notice the way his smile falls flat.

Reaching Rafe's bedroom, you step into the familiar space and eyed it with suspicion. From social media, you saw that Rafe went to a party right after hooking up with you the other day. You will never admit it to him but you wanted to catch if there's any evidence of another woman.

But instead of finding a pair of panties on the floor, you find the red tulips sitting on his desk. Your guards lower.

After he gifted them to you, you cut off the ends and put it in a glass vase in hopes of rejuvenating the flowers. It worked. You nearly forgot about it since you haven't visited since that day, but you were surprised he kept it after all this time.

You turn around to Rafe once he enters. "You like tulips now?" You tease, to which he glances over to the bouquet.

"I forgot to throw them away."

"Sure." You hum, partially unconvinced but deciding not to take any deeper meaning to it. He probably did. "Well, I'm going to go get ready."

You head into the ensuite, dropping your bags on the floor. As you change into your dress, curl your hair, and put on your makeup, you realize you forgot your lipstick.

Searching through your bag and throwing out used brushes into the sink, leaving a powdered mess, you still couldn't find it anywhere. You frown, "dammit."

Your attire feels incomplete without it, but you're not going to cry over this miscalculation. Stepping out, you find Rafe, fitted with his tailored black suit, sitting at his desk and reading a file in his hands. His concentration breaks when he hears you exit. 

His eyes scan over your figure and, while he knows he's already seen you in this before, it does nothing to minimize how captivating you truly look in the dress. The dress he bought. "You look amazing," he murmurs, causing heat to rise to your cheeks.

"Thank you." You say with a laugh, uncomfortable at the way his attention is set on you. You need to expel it. "Unfortunately, I don't have any lipstick on. I probably left it at home."

"You mean this?" He picks something off his counter and holds it out to you and, lo and behold, it was your lipstick.

"Where'd you get that?"

"You left it here," he declares, lifting to his feet and approaching you with it. "The maids were going to throw it away but I assumed that..." He trails off, his eyes finding yours.

"That I wouldn't be able to afford another one?" You supply with a forced smile, knowing it squeezes your chest at how Rafe sees you. A Pogue who can't afford many luxuries. "Don't worry, Kook, it's like seven dollars, I would've bought another one."

That wasn't what he meant.

He remembered that you didn't let him buy you another one so he figured you wouldn't allow him to replace it either. But, he didn't know how to say that without coming off pathetic.

Instead, he returned it to its rightful owner.

Grateful, you take it out of his hand and begin to apply it right there. He watches you as you do, the freshness of plump lips replaced with a coat of red. "How'd I look?"

Kissable. Rafe swallows hard, tearing his eyes away and finding the empty space around your neck.

"Where's your necklace?"

You twist the cap back on the lipstick, tipping your head to the bathroom. "In there. I was going to put it on later."

"Let me put it on for you."

You blink up at him from the sudden offer. "You want to?"

He shrugs. He feels like he's playing a silent dance with you, hoping you’ll take the next step.

A small smile curls on your scarlet-stained lips and a flutter of butterflies release in your stomach. "Okay, come on," you take his hand, pulling him in front of the sink where you left your brushes, "don't worry about that, I'll clean it later."

Rafe honestly didn't mind. He likes the idea of you making a mess in his bathroom, the counter littered with your things. It shows that you were here. "Make sure to make it spotless. I don't want to see this shit tomorrow."

You roll your eyes and pull out the small box wrapped with a golden ribbon. "Yes, darling," you say with a mock, "would never want to disappoint the Kook prince."

He's used to feeling pride in being from Figure Eight, but something about the way you use Kook makes him wish he wasn't.

You take out the necklace from the box, internally reprimanding yourself at how expensive the piece is—knowing how it could be well-spent paying back Aaron—before handing it over to Rafe.

He places it over your neckline, pushing your styled hair to the side for full exposure. You watch him through the mirror, his concentration pinned on clasping the small hole.

"What were you working on?" You ask, filling in the silence as you refer to the file.

"A case for my dad." He explains, frustration slowly building in him because the hook won't puncture through the complicated loop. "He wants to close this deal tonight with one of his partners but they're refusing to budge."

You nod just as you hear him release a swear under his breath, his brows crinkled together and his patience thinning. You know the look. "It's okay," you comfort with a gentle tone, "take your time. It's not going anywhere."

It won't slip through. "I should've gotten you another necklace."

"I guess someone should've listened to me." You tease with a chuckle. Rafe flicks his gaze to meet yours in the reflection, watching your smile, no judgment in sight. His shoulders slacken a bit. "I guess it proves that you should always listen to your girlfriend. What's that saying? Happy wife, happy life?"

"We're not fucking married." He announces bluntly without much thought, his focus too wrapped up on the stupid chain. Your smile falters. Right, you got too carried away in your role. He clasps the ends together. "Finally."

You nod your head in gratitude as you silently slip out of the bathroom once again, making your way to the dresser where you left your purse. Your eyes gloss over the opened file on the desk and you stop in your tracks.

"Wait, I know him." You point to the paperwork, glancing over your shoulders to find Rafe. "He's that guy that owns the hotel chains for the tourists. The one who just bought up all that land near the marsh."

Rafe nods, picking it up. "Yeah. Cameron Development wants it but he handed the negotiation off to his daughter. She doesn't wanna talk and plans on proceeding with the original blueprint."

"But that doesn't make sense." You frown, plucking the case out of his hand. You look through the information. He lets you. "That land isn't a good location for a hotel. It's too close to the wilderness protection area for endangered species. They're going to get hell from the FWS."

Rafe stares back at your assessment. "What?"

"Look," you point to the map where he highlighted where the land is going to be used. "This is where the marsh is. This is where the hotel is going to be built. If you use that land, you'll disrupt the ecosystem and it's going to fuck you over later by the government."

He shakes his head, disagreeing. "We planned ahead for that."

"No. You only minimize it. You're going to cut off a main water source. It'll dry out the fishes and marines. You may be able to hold off the feds for a couple of years but I'm willing to bet it won't last longer than five. Max."

He's watching you, the way your brows knit together and your lips purse as you examine the case. "How do you know all that?"

"I work on the docks," you shrug, giving back the file to Rafe. "Heyward has been talking about how some Kook hotel magnate is planning on restricting a part of the marsh where they make their living. It's worrying them."

Rafe says nothing, glancing back down to the papers. "Well, Cameron Development was planning on using it for residential housing."

You shake your head, settling on the end of his mattress. It's so soft, unlike the one you have back home. "I wouldn't suggest that either."

He knows he shouldn't be taking suggestions from a bartender, but something in the way you held your ground makes him consider otherwise. "Why not?"

"Other than disrupting people’s livelihood? You don't want an alligator to end up on someone's back porch and they can't shoot it because it's part of the endangered species list. The lawsuits would be a nightmare."

What you don't explain to him is that you learned a lot of this because of what your parents drilled in you. They discussed local politics often. They believed it's important to have an understanding about your community and to know when certain corporations or people are about to harm it. That's what Kooks often forget.

"I mean, do what you want but that's my honest opinion." You conclude with a shrug. At the end of the day, it’s not your business.

Rafe watches as you lay back against his bed with a sigh. Your dress riding up; the high slit revealing more of your skin.

He has nothing else to say to that—to you—because, in some ways, you're right. You come in here and break down a problem he spent the past three days trying to figure out. It's maddening how incredible you are.

He throws the case onto the desk. His focus now pinned on you as his knees sink to the space beside your hips and he hovers over you, strong arms pressed next to your head.

"You're pretty smart then, huh?" He goads, his eyes scanning over your face. The necklace tangled with his initials. How you look under him.

You grin. "I told you. I'm not just a Pogue with no brains."

You're referring to his insult at the bar, the insulating that you weren't smart enough because you were from The Cut. He couldn't believe you remembered that.

He should apologize.

No one taught him how.

He changes the subject. "So why is someone like you, who clearly has a knack for these types of things, running a rundown bar in the middle of the docks?"

Rafe doesn't recognize your smile slipping off, just slightly. You don't immediately answer him. Your hand raises to cup the side of his profile.

"Are we going to keep discussing business or are you going to kiss me?" You challenge, because that's the best way to avoid these types of conversations with Rafe.

He scoffs. The way you tease him sends a shot of arousal down his spine. "Who said anything about wanting to kiss you?"

You tilt your head with a raised brow. "Are you saying I'm wrong? Because I have a faint memory of someone saying I was right about a certain necklace…”

He shakes his head, the corner of his lips raising in a smile. "Never said that."

"Didn't need to," you declare with a wink, "I can read your mind."

"Yeah?" He leans forward, his mouth right beside your ear. "Do you know what I'm thinking of right now?" He lowers his hand to travel up your exposed leg, closer to your aching pussy. Your breath hitch. "That I want to rip this fucking dress off and fuck you right here?"

You wrap both your arms around his shoulders. "Yeah," you play along. "I did."

"And what are you thinking about?" He rasps, his eyes searching your face for any sense of affirmations. That you could possibly want him too.

You merely smile, gently pushing him back and onto the mattress. Changing position, you straddle him. "How about I show you?"

Planting kisses on the edge of his mouth, down to his jaw, to his neck, he tips his head back for you. You feel his erection hardening under his pants, pressed directly against your core. "Feels good, darling?"

Rafe draws his hands up your waist to hold you in place. He wants to kiss you now, desperately, but you avoid his lips as punishment. "A little underwhelmed to be honest, sweetheart."

You giggle, slowly rolling your hips. He groans at the sensation, feeling his cock tightens. "Are you sure?" You say, sucking on the curve of his neck as you hear a small moan leave his lips. The low sound igniting heat in your lower belly. “I think someone wants me.”

"That's enough." He announces, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you into a hungry kiss. Both your hands slide up his chest for balance and you melt into his touch.

Red lipstick marks are covering Rafe all over, but he didn't fucking care. All he wants is to taste you, feel you, that he would gladly take the mess you give.

His hand lowers to your exposed cut of your dress, pushing the red satin away to gain more access. His knuckles brush against your bare cunt. "No panties?" He asks with shock, his darkened blue eyes finding yours. Your shy smile gives him everything he needs. "Bad girl."

Your expression is innocent. "It ruined the dress."

His fingers graze your wet slit. "I have to buy you more then."

You chuckle, before he finds your clit and rubs broad circles around the swollen nub, and your laugh turns to a shudder. "Th–that was a one-time thing."

"Is it?" He muses, his fingers entering you and a whimper escapes. "I bet I can fuck a yes out of you."

He probably could, with the way he handles you. Knowing your body so intimately, what turns you on, when you're about to come. You couldn't give him that satisfaction, pulling him into another kiss and silencing your response.

Rafe gives in immediately. Your lips part and he sucks on your tongue while his fingers rub you faster, little moans leaving you between kisses. You come on his hand within time.

Weakly pulling yourself off, you start to unbuckle his belt and take off his pants—his hips lifts to assist. When you free his bulge from his boxer-briefs, it stands hard and swollen. "Such a pretty cock," you sigh in awe, stroking your thumb over the bit of precum at the tip. Rafe lets out a groan.

"Are you going to ride me, baby?" He asks thickly, his hand landing on your waist in preparation to help you mount.

"Not right now," you declare with an apologetic smile, his expression falling. "I can't ruin my makeup." You look at your kisses smeared over his fair skin. "Well, more than it is."

His hand doesn't leave your hips. "You can always reapply."

You shake your head, gripping around his base, your fingers barely connecting because of his girth. Rafe's breath grows swallows as you start to pump him. "But I can make you feel better."

He loves the way your hand wraps around him, tight enough for him to feel pleasure with each stroke, and his balls soon tightens. "Just like that, baby," he moans, propping himself back by his elbows as you work on him. "I'm about to come."

You notice, with the way his cock is twitching under your palm, and just as he's about to release his load, you dip your head and cover your mouth over the tip.

"Fuck." He grunts under his breath as you suck him clean, your hand continuing to rub him to empty every drop. When he finishes his high, you pull back, wiping your chin with the back of your hand.

"Didn't want to ruin your clothes." You inform bashfully, standing up from the bed. He wanted to grab your wrist and pull you back beside him but the opportunity was missed.

You go to the bathroom to grab a wet paper towel and return with the intent of washing away all your markings on Rafe. As you settle beside him to wipe away the lipstick, he moves away.

"What if I want to keep one?"

"What?" You shed a small laugh. He can’t be serious. "My lipstick?"

He shrugs. "It shows that we're together."

Oh, right. For a blind, hopeful moment, you thought it was because he actually wanted you. More than just a fake title. No, it was just another shield, another way to demonstrate he's committed.

You silently agree, wiping away most of your kisses until the last one is left. Just right under his collarbone, enough to be seen with a good eye but mostly inconspicuous. "Good?" You ask evenly, to which Rafe glances over to the mirror and nods. "Okay, I'm going to fix myself and then we should start heading out."

—

You put on your facade.

It's easy. You just pretend you're someone else—not a lowly bartender from The Cut making ends meet but someone dignified and deserving. You play into the role of being Rafe Cameron's girlfriend with that mentality.

The gala is hosted downtown, at a large five-starred hotel with a massive ballroom. When you enter through the double doors, opened by a pair of waitstaff, you stare in admiration at the exquisiteness at the place. Rafe catches your expression.

“Close your mouth. You’re acting like you've never been to a gala before."

"I haven't." You snap back lowly, before remembering you're in public. You shift your tone to be more friendly. "I mean, this is my first time here."

Rafe's taken aback by your compliance. He knows he should appreciate it, because you always fight back against him on everything, but the achievement feels hollow and disingenuous.

The two of you fall into steps with the room, greeting familiar faces. When Rafe ends up in a conversation with a group of Cameron Development's business partners, you were casted aside in the role of obedient housewife—where the women socialize while the men talked shop—and you didn't like that.

With a gentle hand on Rafe's shoulder, you subtly interject yourself into the discussion.

"Y'know, Rafe's pretty good at that." You praise, causing the eyes of the older men to fall on you. Your fake boyfriend stiffens under your palm, his gaze set on your profile to understand what you're trying to do. "I saw the way he works those cases. He's dedicated and efficient. Business deals are meant to be made with a keen eye and deep considerations. Rafe always does that."

They fall silent for a few moments, watching you with amusement, before a man with a scuffed beard opens his mouth. "And how would you know anything about it? Aren't you a bartender?"

Rafe's jaw tightens at the way those men address you, with such a superiority complex. It reminds him of when he first met you. But, like then, you didn't let them bother you. "Yes and I'm also the sole owner of Sailor. I've been running it by myself since I was eighteen, which has had an average increase of 1.1% profit margins every year since. I know what I'm talking about."

Rafe stares at you, slack-jawed. He didn't know that. The group of men held similar expressions, filled with embarrassment at their misperception of you. "And, if I remember correctly, you had a construction plan for a new shopping center downtown, right? Instead of contracting with Cameron Development and utilizing local labor from the Banks—which Rafe suggested—you wanted to import mainland workers. How did that work out for you?"

You heard Rafe on the phone once, talking about a shopping center being built, with an intended budget of thirteen millions, wanting to cut corners. They didn't listen to Rafe with his recommendations, pinned him as too young and inexperienced to know better, that it ended up costing them twenty-one millions. It's still yet to be finished.

Scuffed Beard shifts uncomfortably under your scrutiny, his eyes flickering amongst his peers with humiliation. You smile sweetly. "I'm not saying this as a critique on your character, sir, I'm sure you're an incredible businessman." You declare, coaxing him with compliments so he wouldn't hold bitter resentment against the Camerons. "But, your organization has an aging board committee. You might want to consider a fresh perspective on things." You glance over to Rafe, in a subtle gesture. "It might even save you millions."

A woman's hand settles on your waist and draws your attention away to say something. When you turn back to Rafe, you present a loving smile, so bright and natural. If he was anyone else, he would've believed that you adored him, but he knows it's a mere disguise.

"I'm going to go mingle, darling, have fun." You raise to your tippy-toes and plant a soft kiss on his cheek. It leaves a faint lipstick stain but you figure it would help him sell his committed act.

Turning your heels, you leave and continue your (fake) girlfriend duties. Rafe watches until you disappear into the crowd and only then does his attention return back to the quieted group of boisterous men who once didn't view him as competent. Their gaze shifts to his, waiting.

"You were saying?" One of them offers, reminding him of an idea Rafe was talking about before you came in—one they were rejecting—and a concealed smirk rises to his lips.

The rest of the night is spent talking and establishing relationships. An orchestra plays in the background while the men gather around, discussing their partnerships. You rarely saw Rafe, except in the passing, and each time his eyes lingered over to your direction, you gave him an affectionate smile, your fingers waving fondly over the separated distance.

All for show.

In the middle of a conversation with a group of Ward's partners, which were talking about golf tournaments and fickle deals, he pardons himself and strolls over to you. You were in the middle of talking to a group of women, hyping up Rafe's reputation as a successful underdog, knowing that, while the women may be casted as gossips, they are also direct access to their husbands' ears.

His hand slides under your waist. "Excuse us." Rafe nods to the housewives, before pulling you away.

"What happened?" You ask quietly, searching his face. "Is there a problem?"

"No, everything's fine." He shakes his head. Something about it warms his heart, but he can't help but wonder if this is the continued act you've been putting on the entire night. "I just... I needed a break."

You nod. "That's fine. It's good to take a breath once in a while. I know it can be overwhelming."

His jaw flexes. Something about your saccharine mood this entire evening feels off. The way you were complimenting him earlier with the business partners feels dishonest. "Stop it."

Your brows furrow together at his sharp tone. "What? What did I do wrong?"

"That." He gestures to you as a whole. "The concern. That pretend. I wanna hear my girl, not the bullshit you've been putting up for everyone else."

You blink in surprise. You can't even fully appreciate him referring to you as his before scoffing at his audacity. "Seriously? You're mad because I'm being too nice? Would you rather I give you an attitude every time you open your mouth?"

He smirks, satisfied. "There you are."

You can't help but roll your eyes. "I can't with you. When I snap at you, you get pissed off, but when I'm nice, you're pissed off. You can't be pleased, Rafe Cameron."

He doesn't understand it either, but he loves the fire behind your eyes when you talk back and he loves the way his name rolls off your tongue. Perhaps, it's something about who you reveal yourself to. How much. The idea that he gets the other side of you—one where no one gets often—that's what he likes. It doesn't matter if it's your attitude or bitter remarks. It's different. Because it feels completely his.

"Yeah." He nods, cupping your cheeks with one hand, running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. "What can I say? I love this mouth. Reminds me of when I need to punish it."

You playfully shove him off but you can't ignore the knot twisting in your stomach. Your mind wanders to earlier, when you were giving him a handjob and swallowed his cum. It causes you to rub your thighs together.

Rafe recognizes that look. He wants to rile you further, maybe drag you off to a secluded area and fuck you—but he hears his name being called from behind and he looks up to see his father approaching. His spine straightens, his shoulders tense up.

"Rafe." Ward greets, glancing over to you with an acknowledged nod. "He has just arrived. I need you to convince him to settle on a deal before we lose that land. You're the only one I can trust with this."

He's a bit annoyed that his father interrupted his limited time with you but with the ounce of approval he's giving—telling Rafe he's the only person he can rely on, the one he wants to close the case—he can't help but submit.

When Ward leaves, Rafe looks back at you, his expression is vulnerable for a moment. His father is depending on him and the pressure is kicking in. He wants to ask you to come with him, for moral support, but he doesn't know how to word it without sounding inadequate—like he needs you there to succeed. So, he settles on his silence.

You return to the housewives but, this time, you remain closer to Rafe. You saw the look on his face and, while you wonder if you're overthinking, you wanted to stay nearby.

After his negotiation to the hotel Kook, the man considers his proposal. He tells Rafe that he needs a moment with his company to discuss before making a final decision. Once he left, Rafe releases a heavy sigh, searching for his father when a figure among the crowd makes him stop. Sarah.

What the fuck is she doing here? He has never once seen her attend any of Cameron Development's events, claiming them to be too meticulous and boring. Yet, here she is, wearing a formal dress and heading directly to their father.

Ward greets her with a beam of pride, his arm wraps around his eldest daughter and introduces her to his partners. Sarah reciprocates, waving and nodding along. Rafe could only hear the sound of his own blood boiling.

When his sister goes off somewhere, Rafe makes a direct beeline to his father. He pulls the patriarch aside. "What the hell is Sarah doing here?"

Ward knows the look in his son's eyes. "Calm down—"

"Calm down?" He echoes, incredulous. He hates that phrase. His darkened eyes stare down at his father. "What does that even mean? What's going on? Are you—" He couldn't utter the next words, his anger reaching its peak.

"Rafe, listen. Sarah, she's been out for a couple of months—"

"Yeah, because she fucking ran away."

"Language." Ward's command is sharp, causing his son to fall silent. "That's your sister. She's coming home and I'm trying to make her feel more comfortable."

"Comfortable?" He repeats with an indignant scoff. When Rafe was at his all-time low with his coke addiction, his father kicked him out of the house for weeks. But when Sarah abandons Tannyhill for months, doing god-knows-what with her boyfriend, Ward welcomes her back with open arms.

It isn't fucking fair.

"Does this mean..." Rafe couldn't finish the sentence. He doesn't know if he wants to know. All he feels is this intensifying frustration at the way his father could always accept his perfect daughter but criticizes him at every little mistake. Never good. Never enough.

Ward answers him anyway.

"Yes, I'm still considering her for the company."

He doesn't respond to that. He stares at his father with nothing more than pure, unbridled anger. Anger and rage. Rage and jealousy. Jealousy and hurt.

Ward tries to place a comforting hand on his shoulders, but the eldest son shoves him off. He turns, exiting from the ballroom.

You follow him.

"Rafe. Rafe. Rafe!" You chase after him, breaking into a mini-sprint as your heels click against the marble-floored lounge, before your hand catches his elbow. Your eyes search his hardened face. "Talk to me."

He pushes you away too. "I hate him."

"What?" You blink through the confusion. "What happened?"

"He always picks—" He cuts himself off, his eyes growing teary and he doesn't want you to see. "Fuck."

Someone walks by and Rafe tries to turn away, not wanting to be seen as weak by any passing stranger. You pay a glance to the oblivious man cruising by, before taking Rafe's arm and pulling him to the nearest empty space: a bathroom.

When the door locks, you face the blond. Your tone gentle, your approach cautious. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"Okay?" He scoffs at your concern. He doesn't feel anywhere near okay. "What the fuck do you think?"

You frown, but you know this is always the first step. His anger always targets you first. "I want you to tell me."

Rafe locks his jaw, frustrated at the way you're being too kind while he's nothing but filled with rage. He doesn't deserve it. "My sister is back and you're asking me if I'm okay? Are you stupid?"

You cross your arms over your chest. Not out of anger, more out of protection. "I'm not part of your family, Rafe, I don't know why that matters. You're being mean and I'm just trying to help."

"Help?" He repeats, disbelief dripping from his tone. "Like you were helping me with my conversations? Talking me up? Making me sound like I was good?"

He's on the brink of a breakdown and you can't seem to understand him. Why is he making it sound like it was a bad thing? "I am. I'm trying to help you."

"You're just lying!" He accuses, his voice cracking from the intensity, stepping back. Like he couldn't trust you. Like you hurt him. "You say some shit, making me feel like you want me, and then you go off and do other shit that proves you don't."

You're not quite sure he's talking about you anymore. It's something more. It doesn't take a lot to figure out who.

You approach him calmly. "Is that what Ward is doing to you?"

Rafe doesn't answer you, staring back glassy-eyed with choked breaths. He's hurt. He feels unwanted. He can't explain it. Sarah returning home, to open arms, confirms something he’s always trying to push away. It means that his life will be more difficult; his goal of getting the family company more challenging. Because he knows, he will always be the second choice to the golden child.

And if you have that, who the fuck needs Rafe Cameron?

"You... you are good." You begin slowly, watching the way he shakes his head in doubt. "I told them the truth. You're an incredible businessman and you care about your company. I saw it at the country club's dinner, I saw it when we were getting ready and I see it now. What's the problem with me letting other people know?"

His insecurities are suffocating him. "You don't believe that."

"I do." You affirm with a nod, stepping closer to him. "I don't lie about that stuff. I admire it, that's why I remember."

His breath is cut short at your admission. Several beats take place before he speaks again. “You admired me?"

You laugh, the melodic resonance making everything feels better, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders while he leans against the sink. "Don't let it get to your head," you warn with a soft smile. "But, yeah. It reminds me of me; how much you care about your family's business."

Rafe doesn't say anything, his broken gaze finding yours. They trace over your features, trying to read any sense of insincerity in them, only to find none.

"Your family's business?" He prompts quietly, using this opportunity to gateway into learning more about you. To let him in—that’s how you earn his trust. You falter.

"Yeah." You admit weakly. Every bone in your body is screaming at you to remain silent, to keep him out, but you can't help but continue forth. "I inherited it after my parents' passed away in an accident."

His eyes widen, at you revealing this glimpse into your past. Discomfort settles in your stomach, at letting another person in, but you can't help the way your chest lightens ever-so-slightly.

You don't want to deal with it.

Leaning forward, you press a soft kiss on his lips. Tender and warm, Rafe's hands immediately draw up to capture your waist before reciprocating the touch. It turns hungry, passionate, and when you pull away, breathless, you flick your gaze up to him.

"Want to know something else?" You ask in a whisper. "I haven't stopped thinking about your cock all night."

Rafe feels himself hardening at your confession. You have that effect on him now. “Yeah?”

You nod with a timid smile, playing with the buckle of his belt. “Can I blow you?”

He couldn’t say no to that.

Unbuckling his pants, you remove them within seconds. The corner of his lips quirks into a smirk. “Eager, are we?”

“I told you.” You say as you pull down his boxer-briefs, his cock springing free as your hand immediately wraps around the length, stroking slowly. “I want you in my mouth.”

Rafe can’t begin to express how it makes him feel hearing you say those words, your attention set on getting him as hard as possible.

Instead, he removes his blazer and sets it on the floor.

Your smile grows. “Didn’t know you would throw away good money like that,” you tease, glancing at the jacket that is probably worth more than your entire closet. “Thought Kooks have to take care of their things.”

“I am.”

The knot in your stomach tightens. You know you shouldn't like the possession behind Rafe's voice but you rub your thighs together to satiate the feeling. He notices, his arrogance grows tenfold. "Does my girl like that? Does she like knowing I own her?"

Rafe is probing you but there's a sense of comfort in knowing that he has this effect on you. When you quiet down, his words being too real and your hands stopping at the base of his cock, he wonders if he went too far.

Until you whisper, "I like it when you take control."

"Yeah?" He can feel his skin pricking with excitement. "The girl who always has something to say wants me to tell her what to do?"

Your cheeks flush with heat before you nod. "Good. Now, kneel."

You sink to the floor, your satin-covered knees pressed against his jacket to soften the blow of the hard ground. When you align yourself in front of his groin, you dribble a bit of spit over the head before spreading it over his length. Rafe lets out a low moan.

"I like hearing how I make you feel." You sigh fondly. "It lets me know how to please you."

Fuck, Rafe thought to himself, the idea of you getting turn-on by pleasuring him sends all the blood straight to his pelvis. You feel him twitch under your palm.

"And I think you like that too," you observe with a small smile, "you like having me as your own personal slut, don't you?"

He doesn't get to answer before you tilt your gaze up to meet his, taking his cock in your mouth. Rafe lets out a groan, the admission of your words tonight igniting desire all over his body.

The way your eyes connect with his as you slowly take him in, inch by inch, drives him insane. Your hand syncs with your mouth as you cup him, twisting and rubbing.

"Shit," he whimpers, the way you squeeze him feels incredible while your head sinks deeper, causing a small gag to form from the back of your throat. "That feels so good, baby."

The praise goes straight to your core. Your thighs are slick with your own arousal, aching, but you refuse to move till he comes. Your tongue flicks over his length, rolling around his tip.

"You're doing so well." He grunts, his voice thick as his fingers grips at the root of your hair, his climax quickly approaching. "Just like that, I love hearing the way you gag on my cock."

You do it again, louder, this time triggering a guttural moan from him.

Your technique grows more confident as your hands fall to play with his balls, and your head bobs up and down his shaft. When your cheeks hollow to add suction, it doesn't take long before he feels his muscles tightening. He's close.

"Are you going to swallow for me, baby?" Rafe rasps, causing your heavy-lid eyes to find his once again. "I know you can."

You nod. "Yes."

His hot cum shoots to the back of your throat in fast spurts while you take it all. His moans complement his orgasm, riding out with loud praises and noises you can't help but fuel your own desire.

When you swallow all of it, you pull back, his softening cock pops out of your mouth. Your hands settle on the flat of your thighs and you look up to him with doe eyes to ask. "Better?"

Panting, he answers. "Not even close."

He reaches down and hauls you to the sink, making you giggle at the way he handles you. Your ass settles on the granite counter and Rafe wastes no time to pull you to the ledge, pushing your dress up to your hips to reveal your glistening, bare cunt.

"You're this wet from sucking dick?" He teases, massaging your slick inner thighs. You bite your bottom lip, nodding along.

"Just yours."

He loves it. Tonight, you're simply perfect. Saying everything he wants to hear. Everything he needs to feel. He gets hard again, so easy under your influence.

You notice, glancing down to his hardening erection with a teasing smile. "Already?"

He chuckles, capturing you into a kiss. He tastes himself on your lips, the acknowledgement signals a primal urge, while his knuckles brushes against your throbbing clit, causing you to jerk into his hand.

"Rafe." You whimper, breaking from the kiss, your eyes meeting his with desperation. The feeling between your legs growing unbearable by the second. "Please, make me come."

This time, in a bathroom, your plea is met with a different consideration. He smiles before nodding once, lining the crown of his cock against your wet folds. "Only 'cause you ask so nicely."

Rafe pushes in, slow and steady to let you adjust to his girth, while your hands clasps around him for stability, your nails digging into his shoulder blades. Then, his thrusts begin to speed up.

"You like that, baby?" He asks, his free hand rubbing your swollen clit simultaneously to his penetration. You nod vigorously, your eyes closing shut from the pleasure. "Your pussy feels so nice around me."

"Like it was made for you." You supply with a moan.

“That's fucking right. Like it's mine."

His hand raises to the cleavage of your dress, pushing down the satin to reveal your tits. He's never been happier to know you decided not to wear a bra and pinches a pierced nipple between his fingers, causing your head to tip back with a raspy mewl. "Just like these." He adds, knowing the way he's playing with them will make you reach your peak faster. "Fuck, these are my favorite things."

The way he's teasing you, fucking you, feels so good, but you can't help but release a small laugh at his assertion. "Of course they would be, you whore," you say with a wispy smile.

He abandons his play, causing you to let out a small whine, when his hand cups your cheeks, jutting out your pout. "Nah, this mouth is." He closes the distance, kissing you, before drawing out your bottom lip with his teeth. The act is so surprising, you clench around his cock.

It causes a shudder to pass through him.

"God, you feel perfect," he confesses, his thrusts growing less controlled as he's deep inside of you, feeling every little response between your legs. "You should've been mine a long time ago."

The fabric of your dress falls back over to your pussy while Rafe wants nothing more than to watch how he pumps in-and-out of you. The frustration of the cover makes him roughly push back the material against your hips.

"I'm going to rip your fucking dress off."

"Don't you dare." You warn with a weak glare, the pleasure building too strongly for you to feel any genuine hostility.

"Thought you didn't want it?"

"I never said that."

"What is it, then?"

A moan ripples out of you as you lean forward, your lips fall next to the shell of his ear in a whisper. "My boyfriend got it for me."

Fuck, that got him and he spills in you, this time, the motion leaving him more jerkily and unstable than before. Despite the overwhelming sense of pleasure coursing through his body, he isn't finished. Knowing you haven’t came, his fingers fall back down to your clit and begin to rub in tight, fast circles, trying to help you reach your own orgasm.

You do, following quickly after, that he feels your walls clenching around his warming cock. When you ride out your high, you're breathless as he pulls out.

There's silence, and you expect him to get dressed and leave the room, but he surprises you when he focuses on helping you clean up. From wiping away his cum around your thighs, to fixing your hair, and helping you off the counter.

You don't know how to feel from the gesture; your heart clenching from his gentle acts.

Only then does he redress himself, picking up the wrinkled blazer off the ground and throwing it over his shoulders.

"Wait," you reach out, pulling him closer to the sink as you grab a wet paper towel and wipe away all the smudges of your lipstick over his lips. Your voice is soft. "I can't let you go out there looking like that."

He watches you as you work, wiping away any residues clean.

"I don't want to go back out there." He admits quietly. "I just wanna leave. Are you good with that?"

The question came at a surprise. "You're asking for my permission?"

He rolls his eyes at the look on your face, his shoulders relaxing. "Either that or you're going to get pissed at me again for taking you out before you're ready."

You chuckle. "We can leave. I just have to say goodbye to the housewives first."

"Had to get the word out for your bar?"

"Nope." You shake your head, realization striking you that, throughout this entire night, you spent no time thinking about yourself. Your hand lands over the doorknob, and just before you twist to open, you spare a glance over your shoulders at Rafe. "We were talking about you."

You leave first and Rafe's momentarily stunned that you used your one opportunity to talk about him rather than advertise your bar as a catering option for these plentiful Kooks. His chest warms and he soon follows you back to the ballroom where you pay your farewells.

Off on the side, trying to avoid his father, Rafe waits.

When someone taps his shoulder, his jaw clenches, not wanting to face Ward, only to turn and find the hotel magnate standing before him.

"We talked it through." The man declares as you pull away from the final housewife to return to your boyfriend’s side. "You got yourself a deal."

He hands Rafe a card, scribbled with a personal number at the top. The eldest Cameron reaches out to take the small card from him, rejoining their hands in a formal shake.

"Thank you, sir." Rafe expresses, keeping his voice neutral. The man nods.

"You got a good head on your shoulders. Keep it up." He declares, before nodding to you in recognition and leaves.

It takes a few moments for it to register. How it happened. How it worked out. When Rafe turns to you, your elation is too hard to contain, and you tackle him into a hug.

"You did it!" You beam, louder than the normal convention, and catch the attention of the nearby housewives who watch the interaction between the two with awing amusement. As you pull back, your hands clasps around his shoulders. "I'm so proud of you!"

Those words mean a lot to him. Especially now knowing that they're genuine coming from you. He doesn't know how to react, especially with the look on your face, the expression of complete pride from his success. "Really?"

You nod frantically, your cheeks hurting from how big your smile is. "What did you say to him? How did you convince him?"

His fingers mess with the business card in his hands and he shrugs. "I told him what you told me."

You can't believe Rafe listened to you. "So, what are you going to do with the land? Are you still going to build alligator-infested houses?"

He knows you're teasing him but he chuckles anyway. His adrenaline comes down to a neutralized comfort. Safe. He can't help it. Your presence, your words, and your kindness drives something deep in him.

"No." He shakes his head. "We're going to use the difference to invest into the fishing industry on the docks, benefitting from their stock value."

What he's not saying is that your argument held value to him. That his decision to help the Pogues is because of you. But, you take it either way, the announcement bringing a realm of good news for the first time in a long time.

Your chest is overwhelmed with such gratitude, you almost confess something you shouldn't.

"That's good." You settle with a gentle smile, clearing your throat. "I guess this means we can both go home to a satisfying conclusion, huh?"

That was the goal. But now he's not too sure he wants to depart from you this early. Knowing who you truly are—not just putting up a mask and caring about him in public, but genuinely proud of him, supporting him, always in his corner—he doesn't want to separate just yet.

So, he does something out of his comfort zone.

"It's getting late and it'll be a long drive to your house. You should just stay over."

This is the second time he's asking you, holding his breath to see how you would respond, and when your smile softens just a bit, almost in a way to let him down, he thought he got rejected again.

You know you shouldn't. You know this is only going to complicate your personal and professional lives. You know you should go home and place some distance from Rafe, to save you and your heart.

But something in you clench about the offer. It feels too similar to hope.

You nod. "That sounds like another great idea of yours." 

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