#so enjoy this fantasy of me wishing i were at a lake

[ordonianhero]

For the 3 sentence challenge (if you're still doing third) : hug

It was hotter than Death mountain out as the peak of summer was hitting in whose ever Hyrule this was. Non of them could figure that out, cause the heat was dry and blistering. Some of the chain members chose to removes some layers as they continued through the mountain range. How was it that here as they walk where there could still be snow on the mountain it could be this Hot? Sweat dripping from their faces, parched mouths, and and the over welding urge to just collapse from the heat. “How hot do you think it must be?” Asked Hyrule. He was fanning himself. Wild who put on his vote outfit shrugs and says, “Beats me, but it sure reminding me of the Gerudo desert. Time being stoic and trying to keep moving forward, agreed. That or the Fire Temple. Then as they started heading down they spotted a stream. Which ment there was a lake near by. Continuing on. They made a turn and started heading up up up. Till they reached the clearest lake they had every seen, surrounded by wild flower, high mountains capped with snow run off. A fish leaped out of the water. Dragon flies were dancing. All of them happily rushed to get a closer look.

Before anyone could say anything Wind quickly removed his tunic top, his weapons and shoes. Running straight for the water. And squealing with delight. “Come on in. It’s nice!” He yelled. His voice echoing. “Well guess we’ll make camp here in the mean time. I dont think we will be tracking much father in this heat. So might as well.” Stated the elder hero. Which comically was followed by the others strolling out of their hot garments and plunging into the cool water. Twilight dunk his head under water, before popping back up and letting out a sigh of relief. Which then resulted in wind splashing him. Rancher turned his head and grabbed lake weed and flung it at the sailor who squeal. Hyrule wasn’t much of a swimmer so he stuck to where legend was. Wild wasn’t good at swimming either and stuck by them as well. Four being small had to stick the shallows, but was cool enough. Sky looked adorable as he just manage to float. Warriors, stood in the water, splashed his face, and that was about it. He could keep cool that way. Time hadn’t even come in the water yet. However, seeing his Brother no going all the way, his inner gremlin pinged.

“Not going all the way in?” TIme asked, innocently. “And what, swim in a fishes toilet water…yeah I shall pass getting anymore lake smelly.” He response, waving his hand off towards Time. Oh that would not do. The Old man just smirked. Walking over to Him. Enjoying how much cooler his feet felt. He waited, calculating the right moment to Grab the Captain in a hug and dunking them both in. Rancher spotted the gleam in the old man’s eye. He was was allowing Wild to pig back ride him as he got them both into deeper waters. “Lame” said the Vet, who was now sitting in the shallows with Hyrule and Four. “Yeah! LA-“ and before wind could finish that statement, They all heard The Captain Yelp as he was bear hugs and then pulled into the water by Time himself. He flailed and squawked as he attempted to get free the the Old man. “I swear on the sever sages I will…..I will tell on you to Malon for this.” “Oh she’d find it funny.” Warriors mange to get free and desperately, like a wet cat, swim back to shallower waters. But in all, he did feel refreshed, just now he smelt of lake water. He sighed. “You’re all children.”

[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

[hyperactivetransdrone]

Blog Intro

So after looking through several peoples profiles I noticed that introductory posts were pretty common (at least for nsfw sooo here we gooooo)

I'm adding this later on 8/18/24: If (majority) your content is s**sy and your DMing me to try to dominate me, Don't. While I don't mind people who do that/are into that being called that feels like a sexualization of my identity and ergo 1: I hate 2: is disgusting to me, I don't mind if you Identify as one or if you DO just wanna CASUALLY chat but please know that I won't and will never want that or say that word (with the exception of blocking tags involving it or here as a boundary) but if i need to it will be censored. I don't mind if you Identify as one and wanna follow me or anything or just wanna casually chat (or talk sexual just not... making me one to try to explain) feel free to I will NEVER kink shame regardless of how I feel so this won't apply to most people just a very very teeny tiny minority. I won't block you tho unless you cross a boundary or keep pushing, because I feel anyone who wants to read my content should be allowed.

I would also like to say, if you're going to delete your account please don't dm me, it breaks my heart every time

Hello I do not wish to give out my actual name online so you may call me Mz. Hyde (I stole it from the song by the same name by Halestorm) or just... my user-name-tag-thing (always forget what its called)

I am all for Sentient AI but HATE current AI (it doesnt even deserve to be called that)

Outside of this post any posts in blue is rping as a slime-girl-queen-goddess-character. Feel free to send asks or responses directed at her. Her title is Queen of Slimes, The Slime Goddess, or The Slime of the Lake

As of posting this I am still brand new to Tumblr but am learning somewhat quickly sooo things may look A Little odd right now to the average Tumblr user but as soon as I finish learning the basics it should look fine.

Anyway:

18 so 18+ only please, (pre-hrt) Transfem, Bisexual, Autisic+ADHD, overall anxious/shy-ish, probably a switch, Lefty, Type 1 Diabetic (I require insulin to survive), Virgin [:(]

Majority of this blog will be kinky thoughts usually about being dommed or hypno because... I wanna try it. SOME is fantasy tho so keep that in mind (usually my reblogs)

If you are a dom looking for money, unless you are popular and have a good community on here or if you are a s**sy tamer (or whatever it would be called) please don't DM me, unless you just wanna casually chat and don't wanna dom me or if you do please respect:

I really don't like being called an s**sy and will give you one warning before I block you.

I literally have no way to pay you so please don't expect that.

Please read this first, or if I ask you to because otherwise that gives me a red flag in my head and I will probably block you. (Unless it's just casual talking but that's different than what I'm talking about here)

My proof that I take this seriously:

Kinks because that seems to be an important factor on making these types of posts/blogs: Transformation, Hypnosis, Dronification, Denial/Edging, Latex, Brainwashing, Bimbofication, Twinning, Dollification, Forniphilia, Exhibition

Things I enjoy but aren't kinks: Forced Fem, Praise, Good Girl (I'll add more when I think of them)

Limits or things that I will block you about: Human Waste, Blood, Physical Harm, IRL Identity Death (Fantasy is hot AF tho), Sissy (WILL BLOCK YOU), Findom (Unless we're in a romantic relationship), (and a few more I can't remember off the top of my head)

The reason for physical harm being a limit is mostly due to personal problems I've had with S.H. and because of that I hate reading S.H. or other stories or fantasies with physical harm or knifes. Fantasy Violence is ok though. (E.G. Pirates or like a battle between two warrior framed in a Fictional light.) Oh and also no needles. BIG fear of needles, for multiple reasons. Will go in depth if asked.

Finally a few final things about me/general questions:

This is my first Tumblr account that is SPECIFICALLY for NSFW things although I will occasionally post more SFW things but I do love music, video games, card/board games, RPGs/TTRPGs, creative writing, art.

What's your Favorite Color?: I don't have one but my fav combo is Hot Pink and Deep Purple, pretty much if you've ever seen those BIC octagonal see-through pens, those shades of pink and purple specifically

What kinda music do you like?: Power Metal, Rock, some Pop

What video games do you play?: Some Pokemon, Batman: Arkham, Smash Ultimate, Fallout, I can't really get online games yet so unfortunately I cannot play with anyone :'(

Is there anything specific you like about your kinks?: Honestly, in a vacuum I like dronification for productivity because I SUCK at doing anything productive.

The people who have sent questions about Gaza Support (i am broke but here are links to them i am just going to put their profiles for the sake of simplicity and nc some links i cant copy paste):

@ehabayyad23

@freepaleatine95

@mahmoudayyad

@esraayyad14

@ezzaldeens-blog

@foggyruinspost

@ahmed4palestine

@sspsworld

@fidaa-family2

@wafaaresh6

@mahmoudswierh2

@generousvioonanuttieyl

@nishverian

@ahmedalnabeeh11

@shinytastemakerphantom

@nohabed

@ahmaad860

@scentedtyrantmusic

@mahrahpalestine

@d-imtthal

@ayoosh-gaza

@kareem-family2

@save-fatma-gaza3093

@yazan-joud2

Tags to find non-reposts easier (Umm i ran out of colors so these will be bold):

#Random Thoughts, #Edging kink (for post horny thoughts), #Hornyposting (for horny thoughts), #Hydes eepy thoughts (for thoughts i have when sleep deprived), #Hydes Ideas (cool ideas i have), #Hydes Hypno Scripts (for Hypnotic Scripts I make), #Hydes QnA (QnA), #Hydes Depressed Thoughts (Thoughts I have when depressed), #Hydes Kinky Thoughts (thoughts I have that are just generally kinky but it's not hornyposting nor... I forgot what I was going to put here), #Hydes Hypno Scripts (My hypnosis scripts), #Slimeposting (Slime Queen RP posts), #Hydes loving words (to my significant other)

If I get any FAQ I'll either add them here or to a FAQ post.

I now have a sideblog for latex things that look perfect. That is an opinion and just a kink the person they are under the latex is, in my opinion, someone different so anything there that I call 'perfect' is just in terms of kinkiness NOT a reflection of the actual person. The blog is: @trans2latexperfection

If you read this far thank you for reading!!! :3

Blocked Users (i dont normally block people so these people are scammers or assholes, also will not be using @ s either here):

mistress-elizabethh - for calling me a s**sy twice, even after claiming to read pinned

[spencerreidswhore187]

Checkmate (The Final Part)

By @spencerreidswhore187 for @sackofpissandshit (who has been harassing me for this fic all week)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Summary: Spencer finds out that reader is not who he thought they were. (Lots of angst)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Unsub (g!n) Reader

Word Count: 3.1K

TW: Death, kidnapping, mentions of assault, blood, strong-ish language, mentions of suicide, mentions of self-harm, severing of a limb, fire.

A/N: Hi! Thank you to everyone who liked, commented, reblogged and followed Checkmate, it means the world to me. Sorry this has taken me a while to write, a fun fact about me is I currently have a kidney infection - my doctor told me this on the one year anniversary of my last kidney infection. Anyway, enjoy me, an extremely British person trying (and failing) to be American.

P.S. There is a Star Trek reference in this that killed me to write.

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

It was a foolish thing to fall in love with hope. Hope was dangerous. Hope was irresistible. Hope would inevitably kill you. 

You had hoped you'd survive this but knew it was impossible; as you ran, you felt it die - that spark, your soul. There was no Y/N, not anymore. Only the Phantom Menace remained.

Y/N will not be able to save Spencer, but the Phantom Menace could. 

You hated that name (not that it mattered) you had no say in it. You were a ghost Ben had told you, a monster. You needed a name that mirrored that. 

You were like a shadow all those years ago. You disguised yourself in the dark, letting gloom envelop you. You felt safe when you became the ghost. 

It was like you did not exist. All your problems went away and you allowed yourself to be someone else - something else. You had scaled the coarse brick wall of a manor house dreaming of your future. When you silently slipped through the window, you thought about love. 

It was unbecoming to believe a person could ever fall in love with someone like you - a killer, the creature that lurked under children’s beds, haunting their nightmares. 

Still, your mind chased the foolish fantasy. 

Love was what let you dissociate. Love was what let you drag a blade along a stranger’s neck. And, when you returned like clockwork to the Ivylands without a drop of crimson blood on you, you would walk alone through the woods to the cabin by the lake.

You had been instructed to go there after every mission. 

Ben would stroke your hair, calling you beautiful and shower you with praise. Once upon a time, you thought that was what love was...you knew better now. Thanks to Spencer.

Spencer was your everything and you would not let yourself lose him. 

That meant killing the gentle thing you’d become. You wished it was harder than it was to do so. 

“Left,” you murmured, heading to the cabin was like listening to your old favourite song: it had been so long, yet, you still knew every single word.

You knew this is where Beth had taken Spencer; She hated that place. She wasn’t like you, Ben’s rare, kind words did not fill her with life - they made her sick, they made her angry. You used to wish you were more like her: she was confident and proud, not some kid who did whatever was asked of them. Still, Beth would wipe away your tear after every kill. “Never let him see you hurting,” she would make you promise “because even if Ben tells you he feels bad for what he did, I need you to know that deep down he has a sadistic smile knowing he broke you. Don’t let him break you, Mouse.” 

Ben never saw you cry, not until he killed Beth. He laughed at his pretty little murderer as tears streamed down your cheeks. You stopped feeling that day - you became numb. That is, until, him. 

Spencer made your heart start beating again. 

At last, you stopped running. The cabin was ancient, constructed of rotting moss-stained wood. You had no idea how after all this time, it was still standing. 

The porch groaned as you hesitantly approached the door; you gripped the brass handle and twisted it. Your hands were shaking. 

It was useless trying to be discrete. Beth knew you were coming, she likely knew you were already here.

The door screeched as it opened, though, you could barely hear it - your heart was pounding in your ears. 

Nothing prepared you for the sight of Dr Spencer Reid handcuffed, sitting crossed-legged on the floor, with Beth aiming a gun at him. 

Beth had a warm smile plastered on her face as you walked through the threshold, “Hello, Mouse.” 

You hated the nostalgia that stupid nickname made you feel. All the others had called you that behind your back, you used to pretend like you didn’t hear. You like it when Beth said it, though. 

It made you feel special.

Not anymore.

You raised your gun at her, “Let him go.” You kept your gaze focused on her, not allowing it to slip back to Spencer, who you could see watching you out of your peripheral.

Part of you was shocked that he didn’t grimace at your appearance; blood and mud coated your entire body. But Spencer wasn’t like that, it did not matter who you were or what you looked like, to him you would always be the most beautiful person in the world. Sometimes, when he held you under the covers of your bed, whispering sweet nothings, you would believe him. 

“Put the gun down, Y/N,” Beth ordered. She pushed it against Spencer’s temple. 

You could hear Spencer’s rapid breathing. You didn’t let it distract you. Instead, you took a step closer to them. 

Beth didn’t like that. “Don’t fucking test me, Mouse. I will kill him.”

“No,” your voice was confident, steady, even, the Phantom Menace was talking now, “you won’t.”

You cocked the gun and fired without hesitation. 

Beth’s wicked cackle flooded the room as you missed, shattering the window behind her.

Shards of glass scattered across the floor, distracting you. Your idiotic mistake allowed Beth to steal your gun. 

You focused on Spencer’s hazel eyes as she roughly pulled your hands behind your back. As you felt the cool metal of handcuffs around your wrists, you mouthed to Spencer: “It’s okay.” 

Beth grabbed your hair, using it to pull you to the floor. You didn’t even wince as you fell onto a pile of jagged glass, you watched Spencer rapidly search you for open wounds. 

You sat opposite him as Beth sat down at the dining room table. She raised her gun again. 

“I have some questions for the two of you,” she taunted. “You are both going to do whatever I say, correct?”

Neither of you answered. This angered Beth; she fired the pistol twice, a few metres from where you lay. “Correct?” She repeated.

Spencer replied instantly, “Yes.”

You refused to look at Beth, “yes,” you muttered.

“Wonderful,” she laughed, “Checkmate.”

—————————————————————————————————---

When the unknown number started calling, Penelope Garcia was already on the phone. 

“Pen, Penelope. I need you to calm down okay?” Emily tried to reassure her.

“I don’t - I can’t breathe. Oh my god Luke. Emily! Please, I don’t know what to do. First Spencer and now my newbie? I-”

“He’s alive, Penelope. Y/N didn’t kill him, she missed his heart. Luke is on his way to the hospital, and Rossi and I are on our way back to headquarters.”

“I don’t understand, Emily, you saw Y/N L/N try and stop the bleeding?” 

“Yes?”

“Then how do you they shot him?”

“No one else was with them and Spencer is gone. I can’t explain why they did it. We know they poisoned and then tried to save Reid, perhaps they have a saviour complex…what is that ringing?”

Garcia spun around in her chair, reaching for her work phone.

“Some unknown number keeps calling.”

Emily’s voice filtered through the mobile instantly, “answer it. Now,” she ordered.

“…you don’t think it’s-”

“I do.”

Penelope answered immediately, placing her other phone on her desk. 

“Is this Agent Penelope Garcia of the BAU?” Asked a distorted voice.

Penelope replied anxiously, “Speaking.”

“I have something you might like to see.” The call disconnected as a hyperlink came through on her computer. 

Rossi and Emily entered the room as soon as Garcia clicked on the link. 

“What on earth…” She gasped.

A live video appeared on the screen showing Y/N and Reid both handcuffed, sat on a wooden floor.  

“Someone tell JJ to look for a log cabin. Immediately.” Instructed Emily. 

“Dr Reid,” a voice from offscreen purred, “why don’t you go first? Tell your dear girlfriend about Meave.” 

————————————————————————————————————-

Meave. You recognised that name but for the life of you could not figure out why. 

“Ignore her,” you pleaded.

Beth scoffed, making a show of cocking the gun, “wrong answer. Try again.”

Spencer inhaled deeply. “Meave died because of me.”

“You can do better than that, Reid.”

“She, um, was my girlfriend. She was being stalked by this girl Diane Turner. It was a murder-suicide.” 

“Don’t forget to tell our Y/N when this was,” Beth taunted. 

“N-nearly four years ago.”

Right before he met you. The grave you realised. It all made so much sense. She was why Spencer was in the cemetery, Meave was who he was coming to see. 

You could tell Beth wanted to make you jealous but you felt nothing at all. Your heart broke a little for Spence, you could see why he lied about being a doctor. 

If Beth was irritated by your silence, you couldn’t tell. “Your turn Mouse!” She sang, “If you answer honestly then you can ask me a question.”

You closed your eyes briefly, already knowing what she was going to ask.

“Who’s August?” 

“No,” you whispered.

Her hand slapped your cheek with a powerful force. You weren’t surprised, Ben had taught you how to inflict pain oh so well. 

“Who. Is. August.” She repeated. 

You corrected, “Was. Who was August.” You regretted ever telling Beth about them. 

You fidgeted against the restraints. “August was the first person I loved. They were kind and caring and I killed them anyway.” You turned your head towards Beth, “How did you survive?”

“Are you sure that’s what you want to ask? It’s such a boring question.” 

“Answer it then.” Beth rolled her eyes. 

“The fucking bastard missed my heart when he shot me. Just like I missed SSA Luke Alvez’s. Ben’s assistants through my body into an open grave and left me there, didn’t even bother to check my pulse,” she sniffed, “Your turn again, Reid. What was it that you purchased last week when you pretended to be sick to avoid going to work?”

Spencer turned slightly, staring right at you as he said it.

“An engagement ring.”

“Spence…” You breathed.

Beth was beaming. Spencer looked like he was going to throw up. 

“It was a really beautiful ring, Mouse, so simple, so plain. Just like you,” she teased. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

Beth kissed her teeth, “It’s not your turn, honey. Now, explain why you poisoned your precious boyfriend, or, better yet, pretended to be his wife when you called for an ambulance.” 

“I don’t know why,” you lied.

“Yes, you do!” Spencer couldn’t breathe. “It’s because you do whatever your master, Ben, tells you.” Shouted Beth.

“Then it’s a good thing you killed him,” you spat. 

You repeated your earlier question. “Why are you doing this.”

Making sure Beth was distracted, you slowly, discretely, reached for the jagged shard of glass on the left of your right hand. 

“It’s not fair,” she seethed, “I trusted you and you fell in love with one of them. You hated police officers, remember? They are the reasons we became monsters! If they hadn’t stopped looking for us, we never would have ended up here, in this house, in this cabin. If-if it wasn’t for them, my family would still be alive.” 

You grasped the glass shard tightly, blood trickling down your palm. 

“If my family has to be dead, then so does yours. There’s only one person you care about…him.” Beth gestured at him with the gun. 

“Last question before I kill you both-”

“Y/N,” Spencer edged towards you.

“Enough, pig. Do you love them?” Beth tapped the gun against his head. 

Spencer didn’t bother hiding the truth, if you were both going to die, he needed you to know. He looked into your eyes, Spencer would happily drown in the [your eye colour] of your eyes. “I love you,” He vowed. 

“Even now? She is a murderer, after all, the very thing you’re hired to destroy.” 

“You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love.” He quoted. 

 Spencer must have read Kafka’s ‘Letters to Milena’ a thousand times since you met, every time he opened the cover of the novel, he was brought back to the day he met the love of his life. 

“You are poetry material, Spence; You are full of cloudy subtleties I am willing to spend a lifetime figuring out. Words burst in your essence and you carry their dust in the pores of your ethereal individuality.” Immediately you were engulfed by pain, you pressed the glass shard against the base of your pinky finger and pushed and pushed. You tried your hardest to keep your breathing steady when finally you severed the finger. 

You saw Spencer notice the blood pooling behind you. You subtly shook your head as he opened his mouth to protest. Angling your hand just right, you were able to agonisingly force your hand out of one of the cuffs. 

Beth slowly walked towards you, “Well wasn’t that romantic. Oh, wait, I mean pathetic.” 

Without hesitation, you tackled her to the ground, reaching for the gun in her hand. 

“Y/N!” You heard Spencer cry as Beth’s elbow collided with your chin. You were blinded by pain but that did not matter, you needed that weapon. You notice a small triangle of glass to your right, you reached for it and plunged it into Beth’s side. 

Beth screamed, immediately reaching to pull the glass out. This allowed you to capture the gun.

How the tables turn, you thought, as you pressed the barrel against her temple.

“Spencer,” you instructed slowly, “go.”

He stood up and took one step towards you, “Spence, please,” your voice cracked, “I need you to go.”

“I’m not going to leave you Y/N.” 

“Please, Spence.”

“Y/N-”

“I love you. Promise me you’ll run as fast as you can. Don’t turn back. I’ll be right behind you.” You both knew it was a lie. 

Beth squirmed in your grasp. 

“You’ll be right behind me?”

“Scout’s honour.” You did the Vulcan salute for good measure. 

You made sure to drink Spencer in one more time, he was so beautiful. You wished you could have told him more. 

Spencer turned back around one last time before leaving. 

“You lied.” Beth gave a cold, wet laugh - blood dribbled down her chin. “Neither of us is getting out of this alive.”

You stood up, brushing the dirt off you. Your hand was throbbing. “Did Ben seriously not remember you?”

Beth looked at you, face painted with confusion. 

“Power of hair dye, I guess.” You shrugged. 

Beth remained on the soiled ground as you walked towards the set of drawers. You rummaged through the mess till you found what you were looking for. Tentatively, you pulled one out of the box, dragging it along the side.

“You’re crazy,” Beth breathed. 

You held the match near your face, examining the orange flame. 

“Checkmate,” you mocked as you let go. 

——————————————————————————————————

Spencer ran and ran and ran. If he stopped it became too real. He refused to believe it. He kept running through the woods until he collided with someone else. 

“Spencer!” Exclaimed JJ, pulling him in for a hug. Spencer rested his head on her shoulder, he couldn’t help the sobs that escaped him. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay,” JJ soothed, rubbing his back. 

“I have to go back,” Spencer whispered into her shoulder. “I need to help them, they-”

“Spencer,” Tara said slowly, gently, “what do you mean?”

“Spencer pushed away from JJ and started explaining “They’re still…no. No. NO!”

He turned around and watch the melancholy smoke rise, dancing above the horizon. The amber flames taunted him, reaching for the stars in the distance. 

Spencer thought he knew heartbreak…it felt nothing like this. Pain didn’t do this feeling justice. He felt like he was dying. 

——————————————————————————————————

It had been a week since you died; Spencer had only left the headquarters once. 

The team had tried to coax him away from the reports but it was to no avail. Something was wrong, he was sure of it. You couldn’t be dead. You couldn’t. 

Emily had shown Spencer the footage from the live stream with Beth in hopes it would give him closure, it just made it worst. He replayed the last five seconds of the clip again and again. 

There was something malicious, something cunning, about the way you stared at the camera as you dropped the match. 

It was like you knew it was there all along. 

“Reid…” Emily tried, but Spencer ignored her. She didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but you.

Your funeral was the day before. No one went but Spence. 

He had traced your name in the granite on your gravestone where Y/N Reid was engraved. He knew you hated your last name. He held his treasured copy of Letters to Milena and spoke for the first time in days: “If a million loved you, I am one of them, and if one loved you, it was me, and if no one loved you then know that I am dead.” He left the novel, along with his broken heart and shattered soul, at the grave. 

Spencer reached for the fire report once again. 

He had memorised every word but still, he would read it again and again until he found whatever it was Spencer was looking for. 

He ran a long, thin finger along the printed words.

Two bodies had been found in the ruins of the cabin. Both were too burnt to be identifiable, not that it could have been anyone else other than Beth Gallagher and Y/N L/N. One body had a deep cut on the left side of their stomach and the other was covered in shallow cuts. Other than that, no wounds. No wounds, Spencer repeated to himself, both bodies had all ten fingers and all ten toes. 

No..it couldn’t be possible.

But Spencer knew what he saw, the memory was tattooed on his brain. He watched you cut your finger off. 

You were alive.

A/N: Thank you for reading! This is the final part of the Checkmate series (sorry for the cliffhanger) I hope you enjoyed it. I did write an epilogue in addition to this part but I'm not sure whether I'm going to post it or not ◡̈

——————————————————————————-

If you would like to be added to the tag list comment or message me.

Taglist: @sackofpissandshit @ara-a-bird @princess-ofthe-pages @catsinaspacesuit @skull-centric @wrldofsage @dezibou

[cherry-pop-elf]

Aquarium’s

George Weasley x Reader

Inspired by a birthday drawing @mortimerdreadnaught drew for me. Love you Mi Familia!

Warnings: Fluff fluff fluff and more fluff. It’s an Aquarium Date that’s very self indulgent, and an excuse to blorb about fish. Along with domestic moments of a disabled person. So reader is gonna be crazy about fish, and George is gonna be his dang self. My Birthday, my rules.

“You’ll love it-!” You nearly squealed, as you were dragging your boyfriend towards the building. You couldn’t believe your boyfriend had never been to an aquarium before. Then again, you both kinda had a lake with merfolk and giant squids. That kinda pales in comparison. Somewhat. You had a passion for fish, and you needed to share it.

“I trust you-! I trust you-!” He laughed, as he would follow you. It would be nice to just spend a day with you. Along with explore the muggle lands. His father really showed them the beauty of muggles, even at a young age. Now, he had a brilliant excuse. Just a day with you, at one of these aquarium things.

“You’ll love it love it love it-“ You keep beaming, as you would guide him into the large building. Just so excited to share it with him. You figured it could be very therapeutic as well. Ever since the war, after all, he’s had some issues. PTSD, losing part of his hearing, it just takes a toll. Some fish could be comforting. Just a pair of sweethearts, in cozy sweaters, enjoying some fish.

“Oh where to go first? Oh so many places-!” You were just so hyper. How could you not be? It’s the AQUARIUM?! Course, they wouldn’t have fantasy creatures you’ve come to adore. Thank you Hagrid. Doesn’t make it any less fun. The icing on top was the fact you’ll be showing your wizard boyfriend it.

“You are so infectious-!” George laughed, as his arms were soon around you. His working ear pressed against your cheek, as if to hear more of your giggles of excitment. To just be engulfed by your laughter. He just adored you, and loved to see you so excited to show him around. Fred was handling the shop just fine, with Angelina. It’s about time he took some date nights with you.

“Let’s just let our feet guide us.” You figured, as you happily held his hand. Making sure to be on his right side, to make it easier to hear you. With that situated, you two went on your adventure. You would gently guide him around, as you were quick to make off any fish you saw. From the tanks, to the tunnels.

The tunnels were where you two stopped, properly. The two of you sitting on a bench, and just looking up. Utterly enchanted by the many fish swimming by. From the sharks, to the sea turtles. It was so magical, in its own way. George was quick to see why you liked it so much. Just wish the place wasn’t so loud. It’s hard to hear.

You didn’t need to hear him say that, to know he was thinking about that. It’s frustrating for him. Losing part of his hearing, but you did what you could. Such as picking up BSL. You didn’t master it, given you need to learn from someone else who uses it, but you’ve learned small things. You wanted it to be a surprise after all.

You would poke his shoulder, to get his attention, and he looked to you. With a smile, you made an attempt. <SHARKS> You signed, making his eyes light up. “Sharks. Yeah-! Not bad-!” He beamed, as he ruffled your head. He truly looked so proud, and touched, because he was. You may not know alot of Sign, but the heart counts.

It was a fun little game, you two were sharing. He would point to a fish, and you would try and sign it. If not the name, you tried to use the alphabet to spell it out. Slow, but it still gets the message across. It was a really fun way to practice, and it gave George kinda a break with his brain. To not focus so much on what he can’t hear and just on you. How your own eyes lit up, when you translated something correctly.

“My fingers are getting tired-“ You whined, as you thumped your head on his shoulder. “Alright alright. You did amazing.” He would praise, as he kissed the top of your head. Your tired fingers tangled in his hard working ones. Just sharing in the beautiful lighting.

“Muggles sure are something-“ He muttered, trying to whisper against the noise. “Yeah. It’s so beautiful.” You sighed, as you nuzzled into him. Just cuddling, as you both watched the fish swim by. It could have been a few minutes, or a few hours. It was hard to tell. You both just knew it was peaceful.

“Maybe we should get some fish of our own-?” He offered, as that had you beaming. That sounded so wonderful. “Oh yes. But we need to make sure the tank is big. No goldfish bowls. Those are so bad. We will also need to make sure there is plenty of fauna. And then-“ You rambled on.

He would listen, as best as he could, as he watched you go on about the proper ways to care for the fish. He knew he could trust you on making sure you always had it all written down. He knew he couldn’t always hear what people say, but he could trust that you would make sure he did. It’s hard, but you made it easier.

“And then there is the matter of temperature. Are we going for tropical? If so-“ And on you went, and he watched. Enjoying it all. Just holding your hand, smiling, as you were just this angel under the ripples of water. How the excitement seemed to glow, whenever a shadow passed you by. He hasn’t felt this relaxed in ages.

“Let’s make this a thing.” You heard him cut in. “The tank-?” You puzzled. “Maybe that, but also this.” He would then motion around you. “This is really nice.” He added, as he rested his head on you again. Able to hear your heart beat, and fine it soothing.

“I would love that. I hoped you would enjoy it. Water is very therapeutic. Seems even to the likes of you, Mr. Arsonist~” You tease, as you kissed his head. Enjoying the scent of his hair. Always smelling like sweets and fire. That was your Georgie. A sweet heart, with fire in his soul.

“Really is. There is just something about it. Kinda gave me an idea for a new invention-“ He made sure to say vaguely, to not alarm anyone around him. “I’ve already got this concept ready. I’m thinking-“ And it was his turn to start rambling. You would listen, as you nearly snuggled into his lap.

The water truly did hold some healing. Maybe there might be more magic here than you expected. Maybe that’s just what you get for falling in love with a wizard. Who knows. You just knew that your boyfriend was finally relaxing. Something he really needed. PTSD is hard. You couldn’t be happier that your own passion was helping.

“Like it-?” He asked, and you nodded. “It’ll be a perfect sell for summer break.” You encouraged, as that had him give that adorable Weasley smile. Crooked, and just making his freckles sparkle like stars. All the more a glow, under the water lighting. Just this fire under the moon, in a sense.

“About time you took some mental health days.” You would keep teasing, as he rolled his eyes. Didn’t stop him from having his arm around you, and planting another kiss to your cheek. “Suppose a few can’t hurt. Long as I got you.” He would flirt, as you blushed.

“Someone needs to teach you about the fish.” You joked, as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “You want to hear more-?” You would puzzle, before he gave a little nod. Just staring at you with such fascination. Just like how he did, whenever Fred came up with a new idea.

“Well…..Sharks can actually grow pretty small-“ You begin, as you two remained there. Right on the bench. Able to spend hours there. Watching, learning, and being so happily in love. It was a nice break from it all. Just helping each other, in each others own way.

You were helping him with this new outlet. A nice place to unwind, turn his brain off, yet also be inspired. To enjoy the calm of the water, and explore new worlds. To pet manta rays, learn about muggle science, and just be engulfed by something so new.

That, by proxy, was so soothing to you. To share something you loved and adored so much. To know your passions made him calm and happy. That it was helping his trauma, and you two can rest a little easier. To leave with a new fond memory. And, of course, an underwater plushie for your bed.

It was just perfect, and many more would be shared. Even as you two laid in bed together, with the newest member of the pillow paradise, you two were still in awe. You were unable to stop with your random fish facts, and he was unable to stop questioning.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, and you didn’t care. You were snuggled with your boyfriend, and dreaming of fish. He himself was dreaming of them all the same, as he would rub your back. The two of you just able to finally get some needed rest.

Oh you just couldn’t wait until next week. To be able to relax, and unwind with the world. So full of underwater beauty. To just share more of what you love, with who you love. Simply a slice of heaven, with your angel. Together, on a new path of healing. What more could a wizard want? Just fish, and sanctuary.

[campbyler]

hi, i think i’m gonna drown myself in the lake a la will’s consistent morbid fantasy because they are becoming literally so couple-y and i can’t take it anymore.

i’m obsessed with the way you guys write the tension between them because it always comes across as so deeply anchored in their chests, like romantic and angry and terrible and passionate and sad and sweet and euphoric all at once. they’re giving everything. they somehow have the dynamic of every single taylor swift song and i have genuinely no idea how you did that.

also: “maybe whatever boundary Will is surely and egregiously crossing right now wouldn’t exist at all if Mike knew how badly Will wanted to cross it in the first place”??? literally their entire canon arc in the show summed up so perfectly i’m—

also wanted to say that the way you guys write every single other character (particularly el and max for this chapter they were fantastic) is really entertaining and accurate (and i’m living for the background justin/mitchell).

also, this ask should have so much more energy because i’m on the floor about so many things from this chapter (the spooning & cuddling, the hug from behind & the actual real conversation they had there, the vending machine, the sweater sharing, etc.) but they’ve made me feel so much and i haven’t slept yet so i’m devoid of that energy and i apologize. y’all should know this was another top tier chapter and i wish you all the best in constructing the next one and the rest of the remaining ones and the companion pieces and everything because this universe is so much fun and you deserve to have fun writing it.

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! (there’s the last of my energy)

will 🤝 daydreaming about drowning himself and/or mike in the lake at the slightest inconvenience

first of all hello i think the thing you said about the way we write tension has been one of the nicest things anyone has said about my writing Ever. they ARE every single taylor swift song at once!!! you’re so right!!! romantic and angry and terrible and passionate and sad and sweet and euphoric all at once YOU GET IT !!!! i’m so glad you enjoyed the other characters in this chapter specifically it can get a bit overwhelming trying to balance such a big cast of characters but ch07 was really nice in that it narrowed the focus down for the entire chapter, so i really got to focus on fleshing out the interacts between them more! the background #jitchell was one of my favorite parts of the whole thing they’re so silly 😗 thank you for such a lovely message i will be treasuring this one specifically for many years to come probably

[ahiddenpath]

Recently, I've been thinking about reading for pleasure and reading for challenge and I remembered your answer to that ask game where you mentioned your friend's list of literature. If you feel comfortable, could you share the list?

Sure thing! This is going to get really long so... List beneath the cut.

So my friend split these into two groups: authors you must read for a masters in literature (that you will actually enjoy bc they kick ass) and books you will enjoy that kick ass. Her recs were centered on fantasy and magical realism, at my request.

Magical realism you’d be forced to read in a masters program that’s also good actually (tm) Salman Rushdie

Morrison obviously

Louise Erdrich (tho she’d prolly object to being called magical realism)

Haruki Murakami

Stuff that is Not School Stuff but Actually Good (tm):

The Witcher novels

These are the Witcher novels in order:

blood of elves time of contempt baptism of fire the tower of the swallow lady of the lake

There are also two short stories.

Kingkiller chronicles (unfinished but worth it anyway)

The entire hainish cycle by Leguin

Michal moorecock’s elric saga (as or maybe more influential than Tolkien in pop culture fantasy, why D&D exists) read this before the Witcher books maybe

Pratchett obviously

Kelly Link’s stories (all over the genre map)

Gene Wolfe shadow and claw collection

Books to Grow By

This is a combination of recs from my friend and stuff I found myself, apologies for linking out but typing it again seems redundant.

-List 1

-More on the biographies of women mentioned at the bottom of the post linked above

-More on The Left Hand of Darkness, LeGuin

-More on Beloved, Morrison and how it impacted the writing I was doing at the time, although it's embarrassing to say that bc Beloved is an absolute master class in the novel and is incomparable and I feel almost blasphemous even talking about it, except that it might inspire other people to read it, so I will talk about it!!!! In the hopes that people read it!!!! Please read it.

I haven't spoken about it yet, but I really want to add Ducks, Kate Beaton to the list. It's an autobio graphic novel about Kate, a woman from Nova Scotia who took a job on the oil sands to pay off her history degree. It gets dark fast, I would check out trigger warnings first.

This book is so packed with... So many things that I... I hate that they exist, but I really want people to see them, to know about them. I grew up in a lower middle class family on the east coast of the USA. My parents spoke about money problems constantly, so I legit thought we were poor. We were not, although my parents struggled with money their whole lives and will likely never retire and will pass away in debt.

When I was in college, I made friends with my literature pal above online. We've been friends for... God, probably about 12 years now, chatting daily online. I don't want to get into her life too much on Tumblr.com, but she actually grew up in poverty, and graciously taught me what poverty actually is. That might sound sarcastic, but it isn't at all. Sharing your life experience like that takes a lot of trust, time, and emotional energy, and it isn't something we can just... expect to be given for the sake of our own growth (ick, right??).

Like Beaton, lots of people are born in places where comfortable and lucrative jobs are not readily available. Also like Beaton, many folks earn a college degree that will almost certainly not pay for itself in terms of securing gainful employment. People in those circumstances often end up in jobs that destroy their body, their mental health, and their dignity. Class status isn't only dependent on income; it's also dependent on the type of work a family unit does. Jobs that wreck your body can pay well, but at what price?

There are a million themes and glimpses of humanity and horror in this book, I wish everyone would read it. The book was a huge success, and most libraries carry it, so try to check it out!

[thevampirelibrary]

Book Ramblings and Review of:

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun Vol. 2 by Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou

Say you’ve been given the opportunity to turn back the hands of the clock and become younger. With this amazing (or perhaps unsettling) opportunity, you are presented with two options: Return to your teenage years in an alternative timeline in which you must relive your life, but have agency over what happens next, or remain in your current timeline, but assume your form from childhood. With this latter option, since being a child can be tough, you can briefly return to your adult form via some pills with limited availability. 

Yes, I do think of some of the strangest discussion questions to ramble about because of books, and today’s scenario is courtesy of The Husky and His White Cat Shizun Vol. 2 by Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou.

I read The Husky and His White Cat Shizun Vol. 1 awhile ago, but I have been meaning to catch up with all of the xianxia novels I have. It is certainly one of my favorite genres. I have always enjoyed high fantasy settings filled with unexplained powers, demons, and fae. The world of The Husky and His White Cat Shizun is immersive in its wonderful world building that gives the reader just the right amount of time to explore each unique location without being too overbearing. My initial concern going into Vol. 2 was that I was going to forget what happened in the previous volume and, while the novel begins just near the end of the events that occurred in the first volume at Jincheng Lake, thus causing me to wonder “Wait, where are we again?”, the novel is kind in reminding us as to what the main threats are in carefully crafted ways that don’t drag the reader out of the natural flow of the story.

In this volume, our main character, Mo Ran, witnesses more events come to pass, but in sometimes peculiar ways. Many of the events that he was ready to face again have changed without his interference. It’s almost like someone is pulling the strings and an unsettling question looms over him: Was he really the only one who went back in time? If not, this could spell doom for him. Afterall, in his original life, he was a tyrannical emperor with no small number of enemies that would gladly wish for his demise. One such unique event is the existence of Xia Sini-- a young child hailing from a neighboring clan. This boy who seems so familiar and yet is a new ally in Mo Ran’s eyes is actually much closer to him than he could have ever guessed. In fact, this young boy is none other than his shizun, Chu Wanning! Injured in a previous battle, Chu Wanning is forced into regressing into the body of his childhood self until he heals. Of course, no one must find out; especially Mo Ran. It’s truly a curse at first, but perhaps something can be gained from this. Will Chu Wanning and Mo Ran gain a deeper understanding of each other even in the face of peril?

Fitting for a series about turning back the clock, the main conflict of this novel takes place in the mystical Peach Blossom Spring in which Chu Wanning’s three disciples and Xia Sini are invited to train under the tutelage of the Feathered Tribe. One training includes entering a simulated scenario of a tragedy that had occurred, and defeat the perpetrator. However, unlike Mo Ran’s situation, the past events happening in this simulation cannot be changed. This leads to some gut-wrenching moments including one moment that made me really feel the hopelessness of the poor innocents who had to live through the event. That is one compliment I must give to the author: She knows how to write feelings of hopelessness and hope incredibly well. She is able to drag characters to their lowest while also ensuring that there is still something to live (or die) for. I was never a fan of horror, but the horrific scenes in this novel were engaging because of how complicated they were: Decisions to risk the lives of one or many, whether it is better to live with a heart full of vengeance or let bygones be bygones, and the amount of intense emotions from all directions of people who just want to live. I absolutely zoomed through those scenes at the edge of my seat, wondering how the characters would react and get out of these situations. Along the way, clues abound concerning the main mystery of the novel, making each scene decisive to the overall plot.

Since this novel is so dependent on its two main characters, I would be remiss if I did not speak about them. In this volume, I felt like Chu Wanning took center stage with his frustrations in being resorted to fight in the body of a child and his newfound understanding of facets of Mo Ran’s character that Mo Ran would never reveal in front of his shizun. Mo Ran receives some wonderful character development this time around and asks some important questions: “What does he truly want?” and “What is actually valuable to him?”. I believe that these kinds of questions are crucial for every main character to ask themselves to varying degrees and it was enjoyable to see the natural progression of Mo Ran’s character as he tackles them.

I already have the next three volumes on my shelf and I look forward to reading more. The wonderful thing about this series is that there is a massive and creative community behind it. I am absolutely spoiled with the amount of fan content for it and have chibi figurines of the two main characters. I’ve enjoyed what I’ve read so far and look forward to future volumes. If you are interested in checking out this series for yourself, please be aware of the trigger warnings. There is some content that might be unsettling for those who are younger and tropes that could be unappealing to those who are older. This is a series you want to be a little prepared for, in my opinion.

Returning to my hypothetical scenario at the beginning of this book ramble/review, what option would I choose? There are certainly pros and cons of each. The pros of going back in time are that you are conscious of what is to happen and can even fix mistakes that filled you with regrets in your former timeline. The cons are that reliving the past can hurt and, even despite our best interests and determination, some things cannot change. If you can’t change the future enough, then life may even become dull in its predictability. Naturally, this can be rectified if you are indeed able to radically change your future, but that is dependent on the situations that come your way. 

As for assuming your child form once again in your current timeline, the pros are that you are given some extra time to develop on inherent skills that you have and, by also being able to turn into an adult as need be, you can accomplish different tasks with varying rates of success. This skill would definitely be useful in espionage (though… don’t do that). Life is still an exciting mystery. However, then we look at the cons… All the people that you’ve formed connections with are older than you now and will continue living their life without waiting for you to “catch up”. If you want to fit in, you have to form new kinds of connections, but everyone remembers you as the adult who turned into a child. This option is one filled with loneliness. While you do have some pills that can turn you into an adult, they are of a limited quantity, meaning that there is the risk that you’ll be left behind by a gap of years forever. Fortunately for Chu Wanning, this curse is created from a loss of spiritual power due to the confrontation at Jincheng Lake featured in the last volume and, once he builds up this power again after several years, he’ll no longer resort to looking like a child, and regain his adult figure. In that case, other than espionage (which you really shouldn’t do), is there any benefit to what he has gone through? 

Naturally, everyone leads a unique life. One option may indeed be better than the other depending on what we’ve gone through to get where we are today. Perhaps future volumes will reveal further intricacies to both Mo Ran’s and Chu Wanning’s unique situations, but until then, I’ll be heading to that alternative timeline, thank you very much!

I am participating in the 13 Moons Reading Challenge! This book fulfills the prompt: Snow Moon - The word White in the title.

[pumpkinmagekupo]

Au Ra April 11: Fantasy

Mizuki was anxious. This was her first time in the court. Her master had finally allowed her to accompany her.

"The crown prince Aymeric of the fallen snow." one of the stewards announced. Everyone bowed. Mizuki couldn't help glance from under her large hat, she was curious to what the prince looked like. She gasped silently.

He was beautiful. His eyes glistened like the frozen lakes. His armour was lined with ice-like crystals that seemed to glow and the fur cloak that draped over his shoulder looked like fresh snow.

He turned to stand before the throne and addressed all the nobles that had been invited. It was like the ocean had rose up to claim her, his voice was so smooth.

Once formalities had been addressed. The celebration commenced. Mizuki was ushered to one side by her master. "We are not permitted to join in." she reminded coldly.

"Yes master." Mizuki replied. She watched the nobles dance joyfully.

Now she was here, she wanted to participate. Though the fae were not practically welcome. She had already noticed some pointed stares.

There was a small group of them that worked within the palace. Mizuki and her master were the resident mages. Mizuki slipped away from the festivities and walked the gardens.

Ishgard was cold but the gardens were in a state of summer.

"Miss." Mizuki looked up at the clear sky and breathed deep the warm air. "Miss-" It was then Mizuki heard someone calling she turned and her heart skipped a beat. The crown.

"your highness-" she bowed quickly.

"No need to be so formal," he smiled warmly "I couldn't help but notice your gaze-"

Mizuki's cheeks flushed crimson "forgive me! I shouldn't- I know it's-"

Aymeric's boy-ish laughed stopped her frantic ramblings "Don't apologise. I noticed you slipped away. Were you not enjoying yourself?"

"Oh no- it's not that... we are not allowed to join in. So I thought I would stroll the gardens." she explained.

"And they are beautiful. Glorious work of the fae. In here it is always summer.."

"The garden would look equally as beautiful in winter." Mizuki admitted. "I should go- I have already overstepped my boundary."

"Please wait...talk to me a while longer," Aymeric pleaded "I don't get to speak to the fae folk much."

"I am just a humble mage.. I have nothing to offer" she rambled reaching to pull her hat over her eyes.

"...then perhaps you would dance with me?" Mizuki glanced up in shock "you would deny your prince?"

He pulled rank on her.

"- I would be honoured to, my prince..but what if I get you in trouble-"

Aymeric took her hand carefully and raised it to his lips planting a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. "Worry not. Let us enjoy the celebrations. Let us dance in the gardens."

"As you wish my prince."

[faroreswinds]

I got two anons in regards to Zelda.

I'm going to answer them here to maintain spoilers. So spoilers below for Totk.

I'm of two minds about totk's story, personally. Keeping it vague for spoiler reasons, I think the twist with Zelda was a really cool idea, and the final boss was a really grand spectacle that made for a great finale. The new characters, Rauru and Sonia, were welcome additions too, but getting the memories out of order slightly ruins the impact, and I think the scenes in the past should have been playable instead. I love this take on Ganon, but I think his motives should have been explored more.

So, my own thoughts on your specific thoughts.

I personally found the dragon thing.... dumb. It doesn't feel like it belongs in a Zelda game. A friend of mine and I always discuss how much we hated it, haha. But I understand why others like it.

The human side of the final boss was great! The dragon was dumb. But that was because I found the entire dragon concept incredibly dumb.

Rauru and Sonia are.... fine. They aren't really anything special, imo. We don't really get to know them. They are just... nice. That's pretty much their only defining personality trait. I don't hate them or anything, I just don't find them anything special either.

This Ganon is.... meh. He's pretty stupid. He literally leaves Stones out in the open and doesn't take them for some reason. That's dumb villain behavior. His motivation is slightly more clear in the Japanese - He thinks peace makes people weak and he wants people strong. So... that's it, really. I just wish they gave him a Trident and not a samurai sword. Where is my Trident, Nintendo? That's literally his thing, you even had it in the OG teaser trailer! Character-wise, he's no more special than OoT Ganon, except OoT Ganon is actually given screen time to build a rivalry with Link. And was actually a more successful Ganon than this one.

To be frank, I found there to be very little to enjoy from this game's narrative. It's so sloppy, childish (note, I don't mean for a younger audience either, I mean it's like a 9 year old wrote it), and devoid of anything meaningful. The only thing I can recall truly loving was when Dragonroost Island theme kicked in during the Rito boss fight. And that made me tear up a little. And only because of WW, not because of BotW.

To be clear, I enjoyed my time with the game on the whole. But the only reason I plan to replay it is because I want to make a video explaining every microscopic detail as to why this game's story was poorly conceived.

In hindsight, I feel like Botw was to Zelda what FFXV was to Final Fantasy; games that changed the direction of their respective series for better or worse and given Aonuma's whole thing about the previous 3D zeldas being "restrictive", I think we're stuck with the botw/totk formula for a long time.

We are. I'm not exactly.... opposed to the open-world design. I just don't think they figured it out yet.

I know so many people think BotW and Totk are perfected open-world games. To me, a perfect open-world game doesn't look like what these two games gave me.

Here is what I want from the next Zelda game.

A narrative that adapts to the players actions, so the choices we make matter more

A smaller map but at least 8 dungeons. The dungeons should not require an entire sequence to enter, but can be wandered into when discovered. Imagine looking into the lake and seeing a temple! And then imagine swimming into the lake, and entering that temple for a new dungeon. Or, searching the forest and finding an ancient ruins buried deep within the leaves.

The smaller map should have more NPCs. I want real, large cities! Lendyell's, not the pathetic Rito village. I want Goron City to BE a city! Come on, Nintendo, make it happen!

Please do not make Princess Zelda a whiney baby this time, please. Or, in the case of Totk, an uninteresting Mary Sue.

Make horses actually good this time.

Stop forcing me to menu all the damn time.

No building! Lame! Stop it!

Can we make Link emote again, please? It's so embarrassing that the n64 Link has more personality than the latest Zelda game on better hardware.

I have more but this is what is on the top of my list.

Of course, I know I sound like a negative nilly. But I don't really hate the idea of these games like a lot of fans seem to do. I just can't love them yet because there are still too many issues.

I want to love the new format desperately. Totk, while a crappy story, actually gave me glimpses into greatness. I can see how the team tweaked it, tried to find a perfected formula in there. I can see them trying, and that gives me hope!

Like, if you were to give me a choice between Totk and Botw, and I can only play one of these for the rest of my life, I'm going with Totk. It's not a better story, but it's a better game. It doubled down on Botw's weaknesses, but I think that just comes with using BotW as a base. Maybe an entirely new game can finally do away with those weaknesses.

Hopefully, we won't wait 6 years to find out! Hopefully no more than 3? We know that they have already started the planning phase of the new game. And it possible that they started a year ago. Totk was finished over a year ago, and had a year of testing before release. Hopefully, they delegated, and had a small team begin the start of the new game.

Plus, no covid this time to slow them down!

Here's to hoping!

[mybookplacenet]

Tell us about yourself.: Hi, my name is Laura, I have just published my first book 'The Arc' with Blossom Spring Publishing on the 18th of September 2024. I am originally from Milton Keynes, Buckinghamshire and now live in Derbyshire with my husband, Carl. We enjoy walking our two Golden Retrievers, Bailey and Daisy, working in the garden and being in nature. I have a positive outlook on life in general and a passion for singing. I sing with my fellow choir members in my local Buxton Community Choir in rehearsals and concerts where I'm a soprano. I am also deeply interested in the paranormal, such as Bigfoot, UFOs, ghosts, and the power of positive energy and thought patterns — or anything else strange and hard to answer! I have diplomas in The Law of Attraction and Parapsychology, and Reiki healing level 2, and I work in the comfort of my own home, as a freelance book cover designer. I have two grown-up children and three gorgeous Grandchildren. My first book is a fantasy novel called, 'The Arc'. Although one might think the title is a misspelling, it really isn't. But it is a play on words. I am intrigued by the unexplained, which has led me to delve deeper into the wonders of our universe and the paranormal. But my book was influenced by the plight of our awe-inspiring planet Earth. Which to me, is a living being in itself; a planet of utmost beauty, yet this world is being ruined by negativity. I felt compelled to tell a tale that explores a harmony between humanity, positivity and the environment, in a different way. Where did you grow up, and how did this influence your writing?: I grew up in a little village in Buckinghamshire, called Woburn Sands. I have good childhood memories. My little sister and I danced in the rain in our back garden and watched thunderstorms from the bedroom window. When we were children, we would ride our bikes to the lakes and be out for hours. There, we would sit waiting to see the fish surface, comparing who had seen the biggest. We picked the blackberries from the hedgerow, listened to the birds and generally loved nature and came home filthy! One of our favourite places to go was Bluebell Woods, here we would run, and play hide and seek in the sweet-smelling little blue flowers, collecting sticks, leaves and stones. In one of the tree trunks, was a little hole; it was always filled with water. Our Mother called this the wishing tree. So every time we were up the woods, our finger would go in, turn three times and we made our wishes. Our childhood was filled with stories of fairies and all things magical. She taught us to be kind, compassionate and have a caring nature. Hence I grew up interested in all things magical and paranormal. Do you have any unusual writing habits? Mmm, I don't think so, yet, there is time for habits to develop... I stare at the screen a lot but I guess a lot of writers do, don't they? What authors have influenced you? I grew up in a little village in Buckinghamshire, called Woburn Sands. I have good childhood memories. My little sister and I danced in the rain in our back garden and watched thunderstorms from the bedroom window. When we were children, we would ride our bikes to the lakes and be out for hours. There, we would sit waiting to see the fish surface, comparing who had seen the biggest. We picked the blackberries from the hedgerow, listened to the birds and generally loved nature and came home filthy! One of our favourite places to go was Bluebell Woods, here we would run, and play hide and seek in the sweet-smelling little blue flowers, collecting sticks, leaves and stones. In one of the tree trunks, was a little hole; it was always filled with water. Our Mother called this the wishing tree. So every time we were up the woods, our finger would go in, turn three times and we made our wishes. Our childhood was filled with stories of fairies and all things magical. She taught us to be kind, compassionate and have a caring nature. Hence I grew up interested in all things magical and paranormal. Do you have any advice for new authors? I do, and since I am also a new author, here’s what I think. Firstly ‘always believe in yourself!’ Make notes: Before you start writing about the great idea for a story you’ve been mulling over for some time, make notes, decide on your character's characters, see the place you are creating in your mind, and be prepared to alter those notes as you go; I was surprised to find, my storyline changed in several places as new ideas came to me. Just write it: Write it down, I have found it doesn't matter what it’s like because you’re going to read through it another hundred times anyway, and change it again and again…possibly…or was that just me? Writer’s Block: Wow! I wondered what was happening to me the first time I experienced this. I had the story, I had the notes, even notes upon notes...and I knew where I was going with this storyline, except…I had gone blank! I thought, ‘This must be a bad idea for a story’ since I couldn’t think of what to write next. So I left the manuscript for a few weeks, feeling upset. All I wanted to do was get back to my characters and the magical place I was creating. After managing to write a few more lines here and there, I soon realised what this phenomenon was. Writer’s Block. And it’s a perfectly normal occurrence. My advice here is to go with the flow. If you’ve ‘gone blank’ it’s because you're waiting for that little link to hit you, that tiny little line or idea that helps you move forward, bringing about another chapter or more! It will come! Don’t beat yourself up if you think you’ve lost the plot. Give yourself time to mull it over, try to put your story out of your mind for a while. Hard, I know! Lastly, write about what you know about and what is important to you — what are you passionate about? What is the best advice you have ever been given? The best advice I have ever had is 'Always believe in yourself!' 'Don't be too harsh on yourself'. Along with ‘Keep going, you can do it!’ or’ Just give it a try!’ What are you reading now? Nothing at the moment... What's your biggest weakness? I don't yet, I bet I have a few! What is your favorite book of all time? I have read many books, but I would say the only book that stands out to me and that I never forget the name of is 'River God' by author Wilbur Smith. Check it out it's a wonderful read! When you're not writing, how do you like to spend your time? In my spare time, I enjoy walking our two Golden Retrievers, Bailey and Daisy with my husband, working in the garden and just being in nature. When there's a thunderstorm, I can be found sitting at the patio door watching the clouds roll in and the flashes of light, and feeling the energy. I simply adore Autumn time the colours take my breath away! And yes, I do kick the leaves... I love singing and performing in my local community choir in rehearsals and concerts. I also have a deep interest in the paranormal, such as Bigfoot, UFOs, ghosts, and the power of positive energy and I'm always watching these types of programs on TV. My life is relatively simple, but I like it that way. Do you remember the first story you ever read, and the impact it had on you? Oh, yes that would be Enid Blyton's books, 'The Magic Faraway Tree and The Adventures of the Wishing Chair and The Enchanted Wood. I also had a beautifully illustrated nursery rhyme book and would read this over and over again. What has inspired you and your writing style? I have always liked fantasy. Stories where characters have magical powers. Ideas that bring a different thought to your mind like, 'What if I could do that?' I do believe in Magic! I’m intrigued by the unexplained, and this has led me to delve deeper into the wonders of the universe. Influenced by the plight of our awe-inspiring planet Earth, as I have mentioned our world is full of nature and beautiful things, yet we as a race are ruining the spirit of the Earth. I felt compelled to tell a tale that explores a different harmony between humanity and the environment, in a different way. What are you working on now? I am working on the second book of The Arc Series... That's all I'm saying, for now... What is your favorite method for promoting your work? It's a bit early to tell as yet, I am a new author but, I do use Instagram and Facebook at the moment. I also have my website Lauracosbyauthor.co.uk What's next for you as a writer? As always, to keep going, to write more, to improve my writing techniques and to be proud of myself; to believe in myself and not look back. How well do you work under pressure? Like most, I will get flustered sometimes, but soon 'have a word with myself' and make notes on my priorities and work through them methodically. I am good at filing things away until I need them...I mean in my mind, not the computer. How do you decide what tone to use with a particular piece of writing? I think the main thing for me is to realise what personality my characters have (make notes on that). But other than that, the storyline will bring the tone to me and I go with the flow. I will always include humour in a storyline. But then that's easy if one of your characters is a Golden Retriever! If you could share one thing with your fans, what would that be? I would say, no matter what you want to do in your world, or what you are doing right now, know that you will always do your best if you stay positive. Laura Cosby's Author Websites and Profiles Website Laura Cosby's Social Media Links Facebook Page Instagram LinkedIn Read the full article

[macaroni-rascal]

Damn, I wish I had time to give the ladies a full writeup because gosh do they deserve it, but I have to do so much goddamn adulting this weekend, so just the ice dance it is.

Lovely color from W/L but there's a bit of a sense of dishevelment about them, they kinda looked like a bridesmaid and groomsman drunkenly hooking up at a wedding. I wish his shirt wasn't untucked and so oversized. The issue with this program is that, like Sandrine and Quentin, they aren't skating to the rhythm, but also not to the melody either? Not to mention, the choreo is very much a mishmash of standard Montreal moves we've seen a million times already, it doesn't move me, it doesn't grab me. They were easily the technically weakest team here, which sucks because they seem so sweet and committed. MF's jacket feels a bit too casual for the occasion, but her hair is back on point.

Now, usually I wouldn't be on board with a non-Jason Riverdance program, but this is a rare Carol slay in terms of matching the program to the team. Molly is killing it, although I felt they had more vigor in Lake Placid. I like this black dress way more for her than the white (was it?) from before. The costumes are a bit theatrical for the present day, but at least they're on-theme. I have no doubt the coaching team is courting the Irish fed with this after they offloaded Caro and Shane on it to die a slow death of low scores and no major fed looking out for them, I'd honestly be impressed if I had a single Machiavellian bone in my body of how they solved that problem for themselves. Molly is slowly becoming the star of this team and I love that for her, she seems so pure.

Such a step up costume-wise for German Jenn, gorgeous silhouette and color, but his shirt needs to be at least somewhat closed and the pink line in the back is just silly. Less is more, always. A tango is a good choice for them but that first half put me to sleep. She's such an intense presence that I'll always stan no matter what. Strong and interesting lifts from them but always a bit of shakiness. Igor stay away from her!

Initially I was thrilled Alicia and Paul were keeping this FD because it was one of my faves last year, but this year it's already feeling a bit tired, and it didn't help that they were so cautious here, although I understand that they can't afford another injury. Her dress is so lovely and soft, so it makes me wish his shirt was more of... something, maybe a layered, draped mesh like her dress or at least the same color as the piece of fabric covering the V, this just looks like long underwear. They have some stunning elements but they weren't at their best here. The levels issues persist, but I was glad they got more generous GOEs here than they've been used to. He gets too far back on the blade and gets shaky, they might need to spend the summer in Komoka to work on this. Judging by his outfit, Romain is the groom at the wedding W/L are attending.

God help me, Pate and Bye. Further proof that Igor would rather die than come up with an original program. The costumes, while well-executed, just further exemplify how many coaches are stuck in their respective heydays. They would've been all the rage on the circuit 10-15 years ago. The choreo step is the stuff of nightmares and very Vikita in Beijing. That tiara is like something out of an 80s fantasy adventure movie like the Neverending Story. I'm sending flowers whenever Igor decides to retire, but judging by his dyed hair and fake tan, he has no intention of sparing us from himself any time soon.

Z/K are wasted under this coaching team and I'm glad Mark mentioned Scott (although why the height jab?) because I'd love to see them with more mature material like CPom have been getting, and I think Emilea would thrive under Madi. I like BatB but it has no business playing at a senior GP. If it'd been all instrumental covers it might've been okay, but I didn't enjoy having my ears assaulted by Dan Stevens of all possible options for this. I actually prefer that they didn't go full Meryl and Charlie with the costumes like their training mates did, cause they're just too cool for this school. They'd be such a factor under IAM but I can't see anyone clawing this team out of Igor's cold, dead hands.

My issues with the Browns' material persist, they're too good for what they've been given, and I don't understand why they aren't going with instrumental classical music when it could complement their flowy skating so nicely. I thought they deserved to medal here just based on their fundamental skating skills, kudos to their childhood coaches (although let's hope it wasn't that pedo who gave them this gift).

R/A I feel are so close but so far from something with this program. I feel like it's too conceptual, too mime-y, and that final piece is too much in the vein of what they've given us before that I can't see this FD as a standalone in their repertoire. The costuming is too repetitive of previous ideas as well and I honestly found myself bored throughout this. I mean, vintage Euro techno again? The cutouts on her dress weren't very sophisticated and the slits on the skirt sub-optimal. The back of his shirt was confusing, I found myself wondering if he was wearing one of those back support thingies. I suppose Air Canada lost their free legs in transit again. Some interesting moments throughout but again, I didn't feel like they're challenging themselves or stepping out of their comfort zone. I feel like they have so much more to offer, that's the thing. Whenever I see a team grip the boards, I just wince at this point. Can we move past this, please? That and the cartwheels on the ice, pack them away.

It's so rare that a program actually insults me the way that this Rocky one has. And the music choices aren't that bad, actually, but the whole thing is way too hammy to take seriously, and the most baffling aspect of it all is the quality of the support team they have - nobody had the guts to tell them no? I just can't believe Maria-Francesca Dubrovnik-Lausanne would do this to me. And I really like them as people, that's the thing. The costumes are well-made and we know I love my velvet, but good god, why this approach? I actually could see this working in a way if they'd gone way less literal, but the fake boxing and all the other bullshit is just. too. much. Mark is just pumping their tires because a) they're British and b) he's trying to justify their scores before the rest of the world, but truth be told, their skating skills have to have improved, because if they'd gotten worse, they'd be falling over. The scoring of this team will remain a dark stain on ice dance for a very long time.

Now, coming into this as an avowed G/P hater, even I can admit that there are some points of interest in this program. It's not their worst, but we've already seen most of what they're doing here before, notably in that Hitchcock program. However, there is always a level of cringe with them that I just can't get over, mostly in their facial expressions. This was a way better concept and certainly better executed than the RD, but there's always going to be a sense of distilled trash juice with them for me and it's that inherent lack of self-awareness that permeates everything they do that I just can't get over. The opening moves are something straight out of a Torvill and Dean exhibition program 20-30 years ago. Then they move in and out of the Hitchcock mood with some of the Evita sprinkled in. Now, while her dress is really pretty and classic, she needs to give Polina Edmunds back that hair ribbon because the whole look is too juvenile for her. The choice of pink for a Wuthering Heights program is my biggest question mark of the event. Do you think they've read the book? Do you think they've been in the same room with a copy, perhaps? Was the intention to soften a story about isolation, generational trauma and people treating each other like shit? If so, how? Because I don't see how one could possibly. I don't understand Paul's proto-mullet any more than his silky shirt, the interrupted sleeves, the lace-up front or the choice of the color pink to portray an abusive douchebag. That man was not a romantic hero, and if someone believes that, they need therapy asap. If his top had been grey, then we might've been in business, but painting WH as a "love story" of all things... What a curse it is to have read a few books in this lifetime. It's like, I don't absolutely loathe it, but having seen what they're capable of with the Vincent and the Both Sides Now, I'm kinda iffy. This FD would've benefited from an outing prior to this, it looks underdeveloped still. I just, I... hate the current state of ice dance. I'm at a point where I'd be fine if no medals were awarded at Worlds, like in the Olympic team event. Maybe the Italians will change their RD and deliver us all.

It's a shame W/L have regressed so much, I like them, but they are having a tough time out there. That Caro and Shane drive by hit made my cackle so loud I woke up my cat. So true about Paul and his balance issues, it makes it hard for me to settle into the program cause he just seems shaky. Igor looks more soulless and dead eyed every time we see him, it's so unsettling. I'm glad the Browns came out as the top American team, but they need a lyric-less program, just give them pretty music so skate prettily to, as you said. I'm disappointed in the R/A free dance, it started with that weird pantomime and I didn't warm up to it at all after that. I can't even talk about Fear and Gibson or fl-flames flames! flames on the side of my face!! I'm gonna take a Mulligan on Piper and Paul, cause I just need Chock and Bates to not win worlds again, that's all I need.

[necros-writing-stuff]

Gotta be honest Necro, proofreading isn’t my specialty. Any and all criticism welcome. If I’m not crying then you didn’t critique me hard enough lmao. Either way thank you so much for everything you’ve done. I’ve always loved your writing, be it small tidbits of your OCs or short story’s of your favorite characters. This was gonna be the third Mason prompt I was gonna send in but decided fuck it, Necro needs a break. I hope you like this.

No one had seen Mason since last Friday. During that time, he was instructing rebellious youths who were more concerned with what they’d do after school than getting through the class. He didn’t seem particularly angry about that though, in fact, he was probably just as excited. The last you saw him, however, was at the lake. The way he danced through the water almost distracted you from the lack of swimwear. You wished you could join him, but you figured he needed some alone time. Instead, you decided to spend your Saturday morning admiring his form. The peaceful look on his face was so eerily different from the tense expression he wore during school hours. 

You liked to think that you gave him some respite from the more unruly students, offering pleasantries when you could and avoiding looking anywhere but his eyes, but you knew you were no better than the others. You’ve had your fair share of fantasies about him, what he’d be like as a lover, how adorable he would be talking about his interests, the softer moments you would spend with him in the evenings. You knew he has enough to deal with though, so you kept up your perfect student facade in front of him, and your perverse thoughts behind closed doors. Besides, there were more realistic matters to think about. The next month was a few days away and you’ve already avoided two payments from Bailey.

Hoping to get a head start on missing the third, you got up from your rocky perch and left Mason to enjoy his solitude, unaware of how close he was getting to the Ruins.

When Monday rolled around, more than a handful of students panicked about the missing swimming teacher. Other teachers told the students not to worry, but you could see them fidgeting over the thought of the perfect attendance teacher having a not-so-perfect attendance. Even Leighton appeared frustrated that one of his favorite staff was a no-show. You were just as curious as the rest of them, but you figured that maybe Mason had finally decided to take a day to himself and left it at that. 

When you reached fifth period that day, you could see that most students didn't bother showing up, opting to leave school grounds as they had nothing else to do. You figured it was best to join them since it would give you time to relax before you would have to deal with the horrors following the rest of the week. 

 As you made your way home, you gave in to the temptation to glance at the forest. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the silhouette of something dart behind the trees, its red eyes so painfully familiar. You shake it off, knowing that you at least have a few more days until you'd have to deal with them.

As the week came to a close, Mason still had yet to make an appearance. You sat at the edge of the pool alone, idly drawing shapes into the water as the fading sky rippled from your touch. You were beyond worried, Mason wasn't the type of person to take this much time off. You hoped he wasn't sent off somewhere, you wouldn't even know where to begin searching. Not like he would need much saving, since his athletic lifestyle kept him more than just fit. Which begged the question, what could possibly keep him gone for so long?

It couldn't be helped. The police had been notified by multiple students and teachers alike, so you assumed he would turn up sooner or later. You got up, dried yourself off, and narrowly avoided a few perverts on your way home, bracing yourself for a long night.

You weren’t exactly angry, but disappointed as you yet again failed to shake off the Wraith’s grip. You could hardly feel the water at this point as you waddled into the water, so you decided to let the Wraith take you hostage and fight him later on. With nothing better to do, you let yourself slip into a numb state.

This only lasted for a few seconds, unfortunately, as the impact of falling to the soaking floor was never a pleasant experience. The lichens did little to soften the blow, but the pain was quickly overtaken by a mix of surprise and horror.

Sitting right across from you was Mason, knees pulled up to his chest as he peered at you with a blank expression. He was nothing like how he was the week before, excitedly offering his goodbyes to the other teachers as he practically skipped through the school gates to the forest. There was no sign of life in his eyes, the only reassurance that he wasn’t a corpse was the uneven rise and fall of his shoulders. He looked so…broken. Mason, an incredibly stubborn teacher, and a cheerful person besides, was gone. Anxiety that you had forgotten months ago after you turned eighteen resurfaced, you couldn’t imagine the horrors the Wraith forced Mason through to bring him to such a state of despair.

”Three becomes one, we add more to the chorus.”

The wraith materialized behind Mason, tracing patterns into Mason’s collarbone with it’s pale hands before coming to a rest on his shoulders. You scooted as far as you could into the wall behind you. It made no indication that it cared, rather, it brought it’s head down to Mason’s shoulder, leaving a trail of pale saliva as it licked from his neck to his jawline, stopping only centimeters from his lips. Mason makes no move to recoil. The Wraith smiles wide and speaks once more.

”Can you hear it? Can you hear the Midnight Symphony?”

To your right, a familiar purple disc fades in besides your arm. More follow, and soon you’re surrounded by them. You try to get up, but a pale tentacle shoots from one of the discs to restrain your leg. You struggle, but the more you try to break free, the more you find yourself entangled in tentacles. You eventually give up after seeing that your arms and legs are barely visible. The Wraith walks to the outside of your cell, shaking a residue off his hands. You look toward Mason for help, but he stares right back, face tinted with a pink blush and violet crumbs of lichen coating his lips.

”Singer or sinner, the waves know no difference. You will only add to the noise.”

Mason crawled towards you unsteadily and promptly straddled you to the best of his abilities. You did not realize you were crying until you felt him wipe the tears away, and you cried even harder when you felt no tenderness in his gestures. Hollow promises of being gentle poured from his lips, as if rehearsed. 

Dread washed over you as reality came crashing down. The Mason you fantasized about at night no longer existed. He was broken beyond saving, no longer had a future beyond being the Wraith’s doll. 

You would never have your stubborn, sweet Mason back.

Your mind began to shut down, grief beginning to overwhelm you. You closed your eyes and prayed you would see the sun soon.

Since its intentionally ending here, here's the wonderful piece by someone I will dub as Possession Anon for tagging reasons.

I love this so much. The idea of sweet Mason being gradually broken down over and over again simply because he was enjoying his swimming hobby and got too close is perfect.

PC wanting to do better than others when it comes to Mason makes this awfully terrific, too. Because now they'll be forced to harm each other.

10/10, this was great.

[infernalrevenge]

Hello~! Hope you are having a wonderful day~! 🐝💜

Would it be okay to get some headcannons or little drabbles for the 4 Lords reacting to their crush of whom is a chubby/curvy Reader and (secretly-) a powerful swimmer (possibly was a lifeguard in the past)? Possibly Reader sees & saves their crush from a leg cramp to slipping off the peer due to ice one day...?

Did lifeguarding for 2 years before COVID started and absolutely loved doing the job, but also enjoyed the class itself!

Yoooo that's really cool :D That's the kind of stuff that really comes in handy in real life huh, I'm glad you had a fun experience with it! Let's bring on the Lords!!!

Alcina Dimitrescu

Respectfully, she is looking 👀

As a lady of thiccness herself, of course she appreciates people of any size and shape.

You might get a little flustered with how much attention she lavishes you with, whether it was with physical affection or just a very appreciative gaze. You'd have a hard time ever doubting her attraction to you on any level.

She's not really much of a swimmer herself, preferring to soak and lounge if she really had to be in any body of water (or fluid, see: the literal blood bath in her castle.)

That said, she's willing to join you for a midday dip if you ask nicely. She'll indulge you, especially if she knew how much you enjoyed it.

She might even go ahead and join you in the deeper parts of the water, it's not like it'll be an issue. By the time it gets to her chest, you'll probably be paddling under the surface to keep afloat.

You can teach her how to swim and do different strokes and kicks as a way to bond and get closer (she wouldn't mind.)

Though there's probably a reason why she doesn't swim so much -- she's incredibly dense due to her added body weight and muscle mass.

Still, it was a valiant effort and the Countess had some fun, even if she wasn't able to float in the same way you were.

Watching you swim her in circles was an activity she vastly preferred, though she wouldn't be opposed to another lesson. Maybe guide her into proper form while you were at it.

Unfortunately, the fantasy of saving her from drowning may be farther from reality. It would actually be more likely for her to save you. Hopefully, you wouldn't mind a tall strong woman such as herself carrying you back to safety when need be.

Donna Beneviento

She's... not fond of swimming.

Okay, it's not really the activity itself that bothers her, it's the fact that she has to change into something if she wants to go in the water but if there's nowhere to change then she has to wear it under her normal clothes, then after the swimming is over she has to deal with being wet and cold for a while--

"You'll see me in a bathing suit," you might say to jokingly convince her.

You'll be surprised at how quickly her tune changes after realizing this, she's already picking out something to wear.

Funnily enough, Angie might even have her own set of swimwear -- just imagine an old timey swimsuit on her wooden doll body... now imagine Donna in a matching pair.

Honestly it's kind of adorable to think about, but don't laugh too much at her. Some light teasing is alright though.

When you get to your destination, Donna tries her best to mostly stay along the sidelines. Maybe dip her toes in a bit, but that's as far as she's willing to go.

...until Angie, without warning, dove into the water for a little bit of fun.

Now normally this wouldn't be a problem, except for the fact that she is a wooden doll and the water would definitely ruin some parts of her body. And before Donna even has time to think about it, she jumps in right after her for a rescue.

Did I mention that she can't swim? Uhhh oops.

It's lucky that you do though SOMEONE HELP THEM

You immediately start going over to them, trying your best to calm Donna down as Angie sat atop her head.

The whole time Donna is clinging to you, watching your strong arms pull you closer back onto the shore. She doesn't even realize it's time to let go by the time you do get there.

She definitely won't be getting into swimming any time soon, but... she did quite enjoy watching you do it. Hope you like an audience from that day forward.

Salvatore Moreau

SWIMMING BUDDIES!!!!

Pardon his excitement but he would be absolutely thrilled to have someone go swimming with him, especially someone who could even keep up with his pace. He kind of wishes that the two of you could spend it somewhere not as dank as his little ol' reservoir though.

Yeah, it's home, but he only wants the best for you, so you two might find yourselves in a secluded lake somewhere. A little privacy never hurt.

In the water, Moreau moves much faster and smoother -- he's literally in his element, of course he would be comfortable moving around.

He even let you ride on his back so you can get some distance. This could be fun!

Though having cramps while in the middle of a big lake was decidedly less fun. It didn't help that Sal can't even point out exactly where it started to stiffen.

It was a good thing your training kicked in at the first sign of his pain, and you tried your best to calm him down.

You let him hold onto your shoulders as you swam him back to shore. Funny how the tables have turned.

Before he could even start apologizing for "ruining the day" and wanting to make it up to you, you start your first aid to relieve his cramps and assure him that everything was alright. You were more than happy just to get to spend time with him, and you were sure to remind him not to push too hard just to impress you.

If you really want him to be quiet? Plant a little kiss on his cheek. That'll render him speechless for a few hours for sure.

Karl Heisenberg

Honestly, it'd be pretty hard to convince Karl to go near any body of water. Since he believed that his body was much like the Narke japonica (Japanese sleeper ray), he believed would be fine in water.

Let's just say he didn't take into account the difference between his own physiology and a fish's, so when he tried to use his powers while in water... uhhhh...

Long story short, no water time for the zappy boi.

You can probably convince him to join you on swimming trips anyway (what a simp) but he won't get in with you. He doesn't want to take the risk.

Besides, he doesn't mind the view ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

He swears the way he's looking at you is just being appreciative of the way you dive into the lake. He may get a little closer to the lake too, just to keep an eye on you.

If you tell him about your lifeguarding past, he knows you'll be able to handle yourself, but he just wants to be sure that everything's going to be o--

FUCK!!!!

One second he's on the pier and the next he's in freezing cold water. He's not having a good time!

By the time he realizes you're there and tugging him to safety, all he's thinking is "Don't electrocute them, don't electrocute them, DON'T ELECTROCUTE--"

...how did you get to the shore so fast?

Apparently, he had blacked out somewhere in the commotion of it all and he was lying on his back, a face full of you greeting him as soon as he opened his eyes.

"Well hello there," he'd say with a smirk.

If he got to see an angel every time he ended up in water, he might do it more often. (And he actually might, you oughtta keep a close eye on him during these trips.)

[shadowsinger11]

Inspiration

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Requested by anon: Could you do a Fred Weasley imagine where he falls in love with Harry’s younger sister. (Maybe a after the war where he lives)

Word Count: 3.3k (my hand slipped oops)

Genre: Fluff, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining etc.

Warnings: Slight innuendo, Fred being cute and hot simultaneously

Tags: @self-ship-love @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii @jenniweasley @elf-punk @heart-of-tempered-steel @itseatyourdamnapples

Message me if you'd like to be added!

Masterlist

Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, England, July 16, 2000

It was a chilly Sunday evening. The summer air buzzed with excitement and the tender aroma of magnolia as tiny white and pink petals were gracefully falling from the huge cherry trees, carried by the light breeze. Twilight painted the horizon in liquid gold and fiery red, soon followed by mellow shades of dark blue that brought countless sparkling stars.

It was getting the slightest bit colder, but it did not matter; nothing else mattered but the loud cheers and cheerful music, celebrating the official bond between a Potter and a Weasley under the wide night sky.

You couldn't have been happier for your older brother, Harry, who was currently dancing with Ginny, his now wife - now and for the rest of his, hopefully, but not really likely, peaceful life. For the longest time you've been wondering how he'd always manage to get into trouble even as a small First year with no experience in the wizarding world whatsoever. Or, perhaps, that was the exact reason as to why evil-battling and rule-breaking were such common practices when hanging out with him.

However, there was no fighting that day. There was no room for worry and fear when the entire Weasley family and their loved ones were gathered on the clearing in front of the Burrow, chatting, laughing, dancing, singing, drinking, celebrating and living for what seemed to be the first time since Lord Voldemort's fall. Danger was practically nonexistent in that blissful moment which was frozen in time, once having looked agonizingly distant and impossible to hope for. But that dream was no longer just a foolish fantasy to heal wounded hearts. It was there, and it was happening in the most beautiful way imaginable.

And suddenly, all those clichés of a married life weren't even clichés. They were simply humble wishes of people who had witnessed far too many horrors in such a short period of time, and only craved stability among the massive chaos. So when you glanced at Ginny, a twirling blur of flaming red hair and a gorgeous wedding dress, you didn't feel the need to comment on how banal the color white was. You genuinely smiled, admiring the pure, exuberant joy, visible in her eyes and scarlet cheeks. Harry looked just as, if not even happier than his wife, dancing in the ridiculous but wholehearted way that only he could, and old memories of him winning the golden egg, training Dumbledore's Army and kissing Ginny in the common room for the very first time flooded into your mind.

It had truly been a long time since you had seen Harry careless and free like that.

You yourself had spent an ungodly amount of hours preparing the yard for the ceremony all day; rearranging chairs, decorating, making sure everything was going by schedule, only to then dance your tired feet off, and though you wanted to continue having fun with Hermione, Luna and the rest of the girls waiting for you, you really needed a break. And a drink.

Excusing yourself to leave the particularly interesting conversation you were having with distant Weasley relatives, you slipped off your black flats that, despite looking absolutely stunning, hurt your feet terribly after an entire day of fussing over the color of napkins and flower bouquets. Barefoot on the grass, you walked over to a chair next to a table which seemed to have been occupied, but judging by the mostly empty glasses and plates, the guests weren't coming back anytime soon.

You tossed your shoes aside with a sigh and rushed to rub your aching toes, hissing from how sore they were.

How has Ginny been dancing like that for hours?

"Enjoying the party, I see?" a familiar deep, slightly husky voice commented, causing you to look up.

It was none other than Fred Weasley, dear friend from childhood, staring down at you, his ever-present charming smirk resting on features and hands shoved into the pockets of his dragonskin suit. But it was his flaming red hair that made your eyes widen - it was carefully smoothed back, shining under the moonlight like liquid iron.

Fred's eyes still contained their famous, loveable mischief, except now slightly tamer and calmer. His firm biceps had visibly grown in size, stretching out the fabric of his coat just a bit to give you a prominent silhouette that caught you off guard.

It had been two years; he had changed so much.

And you were afraid to admit you had too.

You blinked in surprise, processing his uncharacteristically sophisticated appearance before realizing what he had asked you.

"Would've enjoyed it far more if my legs weren't killing me," you groaned half-heartedly and leaned back on your chair. "What's with your hair?"

"What's with your feet?"

"I asked you first," you cut him off. "I bet Ginny is responsible for this."

"Actually…" Fred trailed off, and, whether on purpose or not, ran a hand through the ginger locks to keep them in place, unaware of how you suddenly wished the hand doing the graceful motion wasn't his. "Mum insisted that I looked my best. What can I say, it's not like George and I usually listen to her, but we thought we'd make an exception this time; our sister doesn't get married every day. But honestly, Ginny couldn't care less about how we looked as long we showed up."

"So like usual, you mean?" you giggled. "Showing up is an achievement for you even if you're underdressed?"

Fred beamed, pearly white smile complementing his formal outfit. You wondered if he used that exact smile to effortlessly allure costumers and business partners at work.

He rested an elbow on the table as he leaned forward.

"Come on now, darling. I know you find my messy hair irresistible either way."

His cockiness only caused you to laugh, though Fred was quick to spot the flash of nervousness in your eyes; it brought him immense pride to know he was the one to turn you from confident to adorably bashful and flustered in the matter of seconds.

He was looking at you intensely, expectantly waiting for you to deny his flirty accusation despite your shyness.

"Nah, Weasley. It only reminds me that even at twenty-two you still do not know how to use a comb."

Fred's eyebrows shot straight up to his hairline, mouth agape. For the first time, he actually needed a second to form a reply.

"Didn't see that coming, I give you that. Courageous one, you are."

Your heart fluttered with joy and you openly grinned, shrugging in half-hearted humbleness.

"Perhaps I am."

Speaking to him felt unusually energizing, as though you had jumped headfirst into a chilly lake. It was unfamiliar and it set your nerves on fire, causing your stomach to twist and turn with sensations that left you dizzy, but unbelievably thrilled. And you wanted more of it, you wanted more of him.

"Fancy a drink?" Fred offered, already pouring champagne into a glass before handing it to you, and you keenly took it.

"Thanks, I've been thirsty with all the preparations I was doing."

"Is that why your legs are killing you?"

"Exactly, I've been running around all day, making sure everything was in order… you know, a lot of organizing and the like."

"It must hurt quite a bit then," Fred commented with a pained grimace. "But I absolutely get you, Georgie and I are just like that when it comes to the shop. It's a lot of accounting if I'm being honest, though I admit he's way better at it. We need to be completely precise; we can't allow any mistakes."

"Woah," you laughed. "Control freak much?"

He wettened his lips, never breaking eye contact.

"Perhaps I am."

You tilted your head to the side, gaze piercing into his in hopes of finding out what those gorgeous brown eyes were hiding. The tiny playful flames in them were eloquent.

Shifting slightly in your seat, you smoothed out your bridesmaid dress and raised your glass, the ghost of a smirk playing on your lips.

"Cheers to us control freaks then."

Fred mirrored your smug expression and your glasses met with a clink. The bubbly liquid tingled your throat, undoubtedly refreshing you and cooling you off. You glanced at the people dancing in the centre of the clearing and giggled - Ginny had apparently thrown away her white shoes long ago, bare feet stepping elegantly on the grass.

"You see, I'd like to chat a bit more with you, but I'm afraid it's a bit too loud here. What about we go to the pond across the field?" Fred suggested, pointing at the woods behind his back. You had visited them countless times when staying with Harry at the Burrow during holidays years ago; the tall trees and the glistening waters had never ceased to bring you comfort.

The noise started to become bothersome, and you felt it even more necessary to continue your conversation somewhere private, the unknown causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Fred's presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, or the sensation of anticipating a tidal wave to crash into you in less than a second. It was wild and the tiniest bit terrifying, but oh so tempting as it pulled you in.

"I'd love that, but… you know," you grinned and playfully swang your sore feet. "Can't really walk."

But this didn't at all seem like a problem to Fred Weasley who only shrugged and stood up, "You don't have to. I'll carry you."

"Merlin, no! Please, it's not necessary."

Fred frowned, but his confused expression was soon replaced by an amused one.

"You said it yourself that your feet hurt like hell. And even if carrying you around isn't necessary, it doesn't mean I don't want to."

You attempted to tame the butterflies.

"No, no! You seriously don't have to, I promise," you frantically protested as you held up your hands in front of you to reassure him, but he only gave you a weird look. "I can walk on my own. I'll be too heavy for you."

"There's only one way to find out."

Fred walked over to you and leaned down, one hand sneaking around your waist and the other slipping under your knees. You shrieked in terror, arms flying to clutch at his shoulders, and heat rose to your cheeks from the abrupt contact. Your chests were pressed together, and you were afraid he'd be able to feel your racing heart. His skin was warmer than you had thought, and it successfully fought off the night summer chill.

"Are we going?" Fred whispered down at you, lips so close to yours that you recognized the nuance of champagne in his breath, mixing unbelievably well with the scent of cinnamon and sandalwood of his cologne.

Not only is he sinfully attractive, but he smells heavenly too?

"Yes," you breathed and let Fred effortlessly walk across the meadow with you in his arms. They brought this new, odd, yet familiar sense of security, and you allowed your head to rest against his chest, nervous gaze wandering off into the distance in hopes of not meeting his. Nevertheless, curiosity eventually took the best of you, and your eyes would occasionally flicker to his, which were now completely black under the night sky. They could swallow you whole, you swore.

Minutes later, you found yourselves in the company of old, enormous willows which surrounded the pond you so vividly remembered from your teenage years. You thanked Fred as he carefully let you down, and took a few steps forward to look around and drench in the misty moonlight that enveloped the area. The waters were crystal clear and completely still, reflecting the moon and its majestic silver glow. The bushes had grown significantly over the time you were away, and you fondly looked back at the moments when you would pick up colorful wildflowers in the summer before your fourth year.

"Shall we sit?" Fred asked quietly from right behind your shoulder, and you followed him with a nod. You found a comfortable spot on the fresh grass to sit, a few feet away from where the water met the soil and moved back and forth ever so slightly.

"It's more beautiful than I remember," you noted, lips curled up in a barely visible smile. Fred hummed in agreement.

"That's why I always make sure to come here every chance I get when I return. But, unfortunately, that's very rare in my case."

For a moment, there was only the chirping of crickets and the soft bubbling of water.

Fred turned to you.

"Remember when mum used to call for us to de-gnome the garden and we'd hide here? We could stay in the bushes for hours before we eventually came back," he recalled, seeming deep in thought. It was an extraordinary sight; for once the playful spark in his eyes was more mellow, there was no cockiness seeping into the way he was holding himself. He was just Fred, the man who was currently thinking with so much adoration and love about his childhood, the most significant memories of it being marked by you.

You wondered, given you ever had the chance to spend with Fred as much time as your older brother did, if the charismatic prankster would have fallen for you like you had done. You wondered, given the chance you had let Fred get to know you better all those summers ago, if his heart would have belonged to you by now just like yours did to him.

Had you possibly missed your chance?

"Oh, I do," you sighed, the tension in your chest vanishing as warm nostalgia crept in like an old friend. "I also remember when I got this really bad nightmare that night. I was so terrified that you took me on a ride with your broom in the middle of the night to cheer me up."

"That's true! My parents don't know about it to this day," he replied smugly. "I can still hear you screaming like a lunatic."

You jokingly smacked his arm, "I was twelve!"

Fred's grin grew wider.

"Excuses…"

This only caused you to stare at him in disbelief and cross your arms, managing your most serious expression, but Fred was aware you were on the verge of failing to keep your stern facade. He squinted his eyes as a teasing attempt to provoke you, smile threatening to split his face in two.

"Alright then, that's enough about me," you announced, and Fred nodded in mock agreement as he studied your playful pretence. "If you're so much better than me, Mr Darcy, what else do you do aside from stealing ladies away?"

"Stealing their hearts," he said confidently, flashing you a seductive smirk, reserved only for special girls back in your Hogwarts days. You giggled, finding his antic utterly ridiculous, but you hated to admit that it still turned your blood into liquid fire. Fred apparently saw right through you, because when your eyes landed on his, they appeared completely dark once again, but, you suspected, for a reason other than the lack of light.

Your throat went dry, and you found it hard to swallow down the lump that cut your breath short.

He ran a hand through his ginger hair as he began to explain, "I'm kidding, you know. But to answer your question, George and I have been working on this potion that should be able to change the color of the eyes and hair. Fun for those who enjoy experimenting with their appearance, but it can also be useful to the Ministry. They're actually going to send a team of a couple of aurors to visit us next month so we can update them on our progress and negotiate the details."

"Wow! That's certainly exciting!"

"Is it? I mean, it probably is, but I've been having second thoughts lately if I'm being honest." He scratched the back of his neck, and you realised you had only witnessed him being anxious when it came to his greatest passion. "I'm afraid we might not be done on time, there's still plenty left to improve."

You put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, and said, "I'm sure you'll figure it all out eventually. Keep working as you normally do, try not to stress too much over the deadline, and even if things go wrong at some point, don't go too hard on yourself. It wouldn't take away any progress you've made so far."

Fred's body relaxed just a bit and he looked down at you. He couldn't deny the sense of serenity that he felt only when he was with you. Even as a careless young boy, he was able to pinpoint the way his midriff would clench every time you'd laugh at his jokes or ask him to play with you, without knowing what it all meant.

But now, as a grown man, he had a word to describe the bittersweet fire within.

"You know what?" He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "I could really benefit from having someone like you around to give me motivation."

"Motivation, huh?" you raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. Fred sneaked a hand around your waist and pulled you closer.

"Yes, motivation."

"Motivation for what?"

"Marketing strategies, work projects…" he shrugged nonchalantly, "...among other things."

You quickly caught on, suddenly becoming way too self-aware of the way you were practically cuddled into Fred's side, hand resting on his shoulder while his were wrapped around your waist. But his shining confidence seemed to rub off on you, because you asked.

"What's with you offering me a job all of a sudden?"

His bottom lip was tucked between his teeth as he took his sweet time devouring you with his darkened gaze. You didn't know whether you wanted to hide from it, or expose yourself even further to the way it burned its way straight to your core.

"Well…" Fred dragged out in his low, hoarse voice, and caressed your cheek with his thumb before slipping it under your chin to guide it towards his face. You could nearly taste the remaining flavour of champagne on his lips. "I've certainly been feeling…"

Fred went quiet as he got lost in the way you fit so perfectly in his arms; you had always meant to be there, he realised. His mouth crashed into yours, hands tightly gripping your waist, and you let out a gasp. Fred's lips were soft, although slightly chapped, and they moved gently but firmly against yours, turning you into their slave. Your palms naturally slid up his chest and he closed any remaining distance between your bodies by placing you to straddle his lap. The kiss was a dance of pushing forward and pulling back, two lovers having finally found their rhythm after years of living in fearful desire. You were positively drunk on his taste, on him, and you wished to never become sober.

When your need for air overcame the one for physical contact, you pulled away. Your chests were heaving with rapid, shallow breaths, hearts beating in synch like they had always done. You let a finger tenderly trace his cheekbone down to his jawline, then it came back up to draw different affectionate patterns on his face.

"What were you saying?" you asked, clearly out of breath. "How were you feeling?"

He fondly took your hand that was caressing his skin, and lifted it up to press feather-light kisses on your knuckles. His lips retraced their path until they reached the tips of your fingers, and he kissed those with the gentlest of touch.

You heart ached pleasurably from the way he was handling you with such care, much more than you ever believed he was capable of.

After minutes of worshipping you by the moonlit lake, Fred looked back at you as though you were his entire world. And replied with a smile.

"Inspired."

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[chasingpj]

𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐳𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬

"I might spread a rumor about you and Percy rendezvousing at midnight. The Aphrodite cabin will have a hoot with that one."

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 4,931

warnings: none

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story, click here

a/n: hi hi! this is part one of a self-insert series I'm working on. in this story, y/n is a child of hecate, and this storyline follows the books. the current timeline here is post sea of monsters and will continue through the Heroes of Olympus books. though it follows the original plot, y/n has her own storyline and quests. i tried to make y/n gender-neutral but as I continued to work on the timeline for this project, i had decided that this fic is for a fem reader. guys, this is really just me projecting my fantasy into fanfiction lol. i feel like this is a slow start?? and there is a lot of info dumped in this so bear with me. it'll get better and I'll be working to improve my writing as the series continues. I was on a writing hiatus for a really long time and I'm out of practice so this is my way to get back and hopefully, exceed the skills I had when I was a consistent writer. anyways, if you have any feedback, let me know! I'd love to hear what you think. as i get deeper into the series, i might ask for some suggestions on what to do with the fic. anyways, i'll stop rambling and i hope you like it!

Part One Part Two

You ignore the aching in your neck as your focus is fixed on the herbology book in front of you. You’ve been seated at your desk for Zeus knows how long reading and taking notes in your Book of Shadows, determined to finish reading it as fast as possible. Your half-brother, Alabaster, insisted that you need to memorize all the herbs and their properties before he can properly teach you how to use them in potions. Even though you understand its importance, you hated introductory work. You are itching to get to the real stuff, resulting in you glued to your chair, studying through the night as your cabin mates were fast asleep in their beds. But as determined as you are, Ambrose, your familiar, wasn’t much help. Ambrose whines as he rubs his head against your legs like a needy kitten, making it difficult to ignore him.

“What is it, Ambrose?” You whisper, sitting back in your chair in defeat. You take a second to massage the back of your sore neck before turning to face the translucent hound sitting attentively at your side. His tail sweeps the floor as it wags excitedly, and a short huff leaves his snout as if he was proud to have finally gotten your attention.

Your eyes meet his, racking your mind to figure out what Ambrose needs to tell you. At first, you thought he wanted to play, but you didn’t have time for that, so you decided to ignore him. Usually, after being ignored for a while, Ambrose will give up, finding something else to occupy him. But tonight, he was particularly persistent, and he’s only like this when he needs to tell you something.

Before you can ask what he wanted again, Ambrose gets up from his seated position, running over to the small table that stands beside your bed. You furrow your eyebrows, the first thing you notice when you walk over are your crystals neatly placed in front of your spell books as usual. Seeing them made you suddenly remember what you had planned to do.

You had told Ambrose to remind you to charge your crystals and collect water from the lake since there is a full moon tonight and of course, Ambrose being your loyal companion, did exactly that. Before looking down at the hound, who now is breathing heavily, his tail somehow wagging faster than before, you smile to yourself.

“I told you to remind me earlier, didn’t I?” Ambrose snorts and runs around your feet enthusiastically. You couldn’t help but giggle at his excitement as you reached down to pat his head. “Good boy. What would I do without you?” You continue to praise him, grabbing a black pouch and carefully placing the crystals in it. You put your index finger to your lips, signaling Ambrose to be a little quieter despite his excitement. If he accidentally wakes anyone up, then you definitely weren’t going to be able to fulfill your plans.

You bite your bottom lip as you tiptoe out of the aisle between the bunks. You look around the notoriously cramped Hermes Cabin to make sure your assumption that everyone was asleep by now was correct. It wasn’t hard to make out the faces of your cabin mates since seeing clearly in the dark was one of your many gifts, so you carefully walked along the bunks, being as quiet as you could. You are especially cautious as you approach the front where your cabin leaders, the Stoll brothers, slept. You study them for a second, knowing for sure Travis was asleep since he was snoring and loudly at that. Before you can check if Connor is asleep, you hear him shifting in his bed. You stand frozen in your spot, hesitantly looking over and you were expecting to be met with the usual mischievous grin. Instead, his back was towards you now. You have a feeling in your gut that he wasn't asleep, the timing of his moving was much too convenient. You really didn't want to wait any longer though so you decide that you might as well leave before he could stop you.

You turn on your heels, walking over to the window before you push it open. You cringe softly as the hinges creak, and you look back at the cabin to double-check if anyone has woken up from the sound. You sigh in relief when you see no one has moved, and you turn back to the window, carefully crawling out of it. This wasn’t unusual for you. You’ve done this so many times that using windows as a mode of exiting and entering a room was as natural to you as walking in and out of a door, and soon you were hopping down onto the grass. Your back is pressed against the cabin as you walk the side of it. You look up at the trees and the sky, eyes scoping around for any harpies hanging around. After deeming that you were alone, you begin making your way to the lake, Ambrose walking by your side attentively and cautiously to make sure you are safe.

The night was clear; the stars and especially the moon shone brightly in the sky. You sigh softly, taking in the stillness of the night, admiring the glistening lake reflecting the full moon placed above it. You’ve always enjoyed how quiet and cool the nights were, preferring it more than the daytime.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t avoid it as much as you wish to. Most of your siblings can agree with you that they’d prefer to sleep in most days so that they can study and practice their magic at night. However, that wasn’t the schedule of the Hermes Cabin. It was pretty impossible to sleep in since the mornings were always hectic. In fact, the cabin was just hectic, period. There was always something going on, whether it was an elaborate prank or the guys arguing over who gets to shower first after coming back from training which usually resulted in an intense game of rock, paper, scissors. You can’t say that you didn’t like it; at least you were entertained.

You also always had someone to talk to, and because there were often new campers coming in and out of there, you have easily familiarized yourself with a lot of the kids at camp. However, like your mother, you did enjoy and yearn for the occasional periods of solitude. As fun as living with the Hermes kids was, you and your siblings did find yourselves getting a little irritable at their shenanigans. It was at those times, you did wish that your mother, Hecate, had a designated cabin.

You and your siblings had always said if they ever got a cabin of their own, they would make sure everyone had separate rooms and would have designated spaces to socialize and practice their magic so that it was quiet for the most part. Alabaster, especially, was really passionate about this topic. He complained how it didn’t make sense that your mother wasn't recognized since you and your siblings were a powerful little bunch. You all needed a space to practice your magic and practice preferably at night since you were the most powerful at that time of day; you were also less prone to making mistakes in your spell casting at night. You agreed with him and would get upset about it sometimes, but the Hermes Cabin was a place you considered to be a second home. The communal feel of the space was something you enjoyed, it was one of the few places where you felt fully accepted which was rare to find being a demi-god with abilities like yours. In return to the Hermes Cabin welcoming you with open arms, you accept the inconveniently loud environment as an admirable quirk and went on with your days.

Then to compensate for the lack of silence and solitude, you would often stay up late, taking advantage of the quiet to focus on your studies. Even if you had to sacrifice the amount of sleep you got, you felt like it was worth it.

It doesn’t take you long to arrive at the dock, sitting down close to the end with your legs folded under you. You first collect lake water in a jar before carefully taking out the pouch's crystals. Assuming you had only a few left in the pouch after laying most of them on the dock, you tilt it with your hand under it, only for the crystals to come out all at once. You fumble, hands trying to bring them to your chest, but with your luck, one of your crystals falls right into the water with a plop.

“Dammit!” You peer over the edge and groan, Ambrose whining at your misfortune as he stands beside you. You look down at the water, noticing Ambrose’s and your dim reflection in it. There was no way you could get that crystal now because you didn't know how to swim, and you consider that maybe tomorrow you can convince your twin brother, Atticus, to look for it or Alabaster if Atticus refused, which you were expecting him to.

Your breath hitches at the back of your throat, jumping back as a head of dark hair abruptly pops up from right where you were staring. Ambrose barks loudly next to you, equally as startled, and your eyes widen. You stand up hastily at the realization that Ambrose's loud barks in the dead of night will catch the attention of the harpies, and right now, that was more important to you than the mysterious person that just sprouted up in the water like a zombie coming out of a grave.

“Shush! Ambrose, quiet!” Your frantic command was enough to make him stop with a whine, and you sigh shakily, turning towards the camp to check if there were any harpies.

“I think you dropped something.” Ambrose moves in front of you protectively, a low growl coming from his chest as he cautiously studies the person. You look back where the voice came from and to your surprise and your relief, you find that the mysterious person in the lake was no other than Percy Jackson. You never had a conversation with him before, but you definitely knew about him. It was kind of hard not to know who he is since he’s been the talk of the camp since he’s arrived. Your thoughts about him weren’t any different from most of the camp. You’ve seen him fight and use his powers during capture the flag, and you were just as impressed as everyone else. You did have to admit that you found him to be pretty cute too. His eyes were gorgeous, clear, and bright like a shallow, cyanic sea. You also found it adorable how his hair always looked a little disheveled.

Your (e/c) eyes met Percy’s green ones before looking at your rose quartz in his hand. You smile sheepishly, noticing the amused look on his face.

“Ah, yeah, that’s mine.” You walk over to him, but as you get closer, so does Ambrose, and his growls get louder. "Ambrose, heel. It's okay," you say softly, and he stops in his place, but his stance is still at alert, his eyes watching Percy cautiously. You pat Ambrose's head before walking past him and over to Percy. "Thanks," you smile, taking your rose quartz from his hand.

"No problem… I don't think your ghost dog likes me," Percy jokes, moving to look past your legs at Ambrose, who’s standing tall on your left side.

"Yeah, well, you kinda scared the crap out of us," you point out, amused. You take in Percy's goofy smile as he pulls himself up from the water, and you notice that he’s completely dry as he settles on the edge before turning his body to look at you.

“It’s y/n, right?” He asks, and you nod, figuring he’s probably heard about you in passing from Connor and Travis since he was friends with them too. “What are you doing out here so late?"

"I could ask you the same thing," you retort playfully, making him smile. You move to sit down where you were standing. You spread the crystals neatly on the wood, making a mental note to get them before you go to bed.

"I couldn't sleep, so I came out here to hang out, but then a hippocampus swam up. One of its friends got stuck in a fisher's net not too far from here, so I went to help," he explains, and you nod. "I told you my excuse, so what's yours?"

You hum, "It's a full moon out tonight, so I thought I should take my crystals out. I also needed moon water for a potion, so I collected some for that," you point over at the big mason jar full of lake water. "It’s not as cool as your excuse,” you say playfully.

A short laugh comes from Percy, and when you look up from your crystals, you notice he was looking at Ambrose again, who was still in his tense stance. Ambrose was especially protective of you and Atticus, and it wasn’t unusual for him to be cautious of the new people you come across. You assumed that Ambrose was particularly tense with Percy since he had successfully caught you both by surprise.

"Ambrose, relax.” You pat the top of his head to soothe him. "Lay down." Ambrose whines, licking your hand affectionately for a little, and you can tell he was still uneasy about the other. He was hesitant, but he follows your command anyway, laying down with his head on your lap.

"You can touch him?" Percy asks, his eyes wide and curious as he watches you pet Ambrose.

"Yeah, I can touch ghosts in general. My mother is Hecate, goddess of necromancy, along with magic, the night and the moon," you tell him. "This is Ambrose. My mother gifted him to me to be my familiar, kinda like a guardian." You look down at the hound, smiling softly as you scratch behind his ear softly.

Ambrose is a burly Molossian Hound who lived in the time of Alexander The Great. From what your father told you, his breed was well valued in Ancient Greek and Roman times and was often used in war. It is easy to understand why the breed was used in war. Ambrose is huge and muscular, about 6 feet tall when he stands on his hind legs, and he weighs around 200 pounds. At first, Ambrose can come off as a little intimidating. You remember how your siblings had avoided him when you first arrived at camp before they realized that he was the clearest definition of a gentle giant. Even though he was trained to fight when he was alive, he was still as gentle as a well-trained house dog unless he was given a reason not to be.

"When did you get him?" Percy asks, his eyes focusing on Ambrose’s translucent body that looked like it is made up of this gray swirling vapor. He couldn’t exactly wrap his head around how Ambrose’s head was comfortably propped up on your thigh.

"We met on the night I was on my way to Camp so about 2 years ago. Without him, my brother and I probably would have never made it to the borders.” You look up at Percy, meeting his eyes again; you watch as his face softens as he shifts to lean back on his hand.

"Really?" You hum and nod, ready to drop the conversation there, thinking you shouldn’t bore him with the details. You didn’t really like talking about it much, but the way he was looking at you made you feel like he was inviting you to continue talking.

"We got separated from our father at the gas station a couple of miles away from here. He went inside the convenience store to get us snacks, and while he was in there, a cyclops had found us, tried to grab us out of his car. We jumped out and ran into the woods nearby," you explain as you look out at the dark horizon.

You remember the sound of your father yelling after you and Atticus and how it broke your heart hearing, for the first time, such despair in his voice. You knew your dad didn’t want to bring you guys to camp, but he knew it was in Atticus’s and your best interest to come here and be with other people like you guys.

When you and Atticus started developing your powers, your father had simply told you guys that you were special and to refrain from using your telekinesis anywhere else but home. He didn’t say anything more until one night, you and Atticus had gotten in a screaming match about a reason you don’t even remember. However, in your screaming match, the both of you were so angry that a green aura had formed around you both, and books, magazines, even cutlery were being flown across the room because of the sheer energy you were admitting as a unit. It was then your father had decided to take you and Atticus to the camp to control and learn about your powers before you guys destroyed the house over a dumb argument like who’s turn is it to have the TV remote.

"We were more concerned about the monster hurting our dad, so we decided on a whim to run in the forest. My brother and I have telekinesis powers, and I aimed well enough to send a rock right at the cyclops eye. We lost him a little after that, but we didn't know where we were. We made too many twists and turns; we had no idea what direction we came from. And then, this buddy appeared out of nowhere from a distance. I saw him glowing from far away and couldn’t make out what he was, but I felt that I had to follow him. So we did, and he got us to camp with no detours for any other monsters. He's been with me ever since," you say, and a low whine comes from Ambrose’s mouth as he nuzzles the side of his face on your thigh contentedly.

Percy nods, and he huffs softly, "You guys got lucky. How old were you and your brother when you got to camp?"

"12, we're twins. We actually got here a couple of weeks after you did,” you mention. You watch Percy’s mouth curve into a half-smirk.

“Wow," he says, amused, and shakes his head. “So you have a twin and a dead dog, no fair," he jokes. You giggle, rolling your eyes playfully,

"Oh please, and you have crazy water powers. You’re completely dry after swimming! I think that's pretty envy-worthy."

"Hey-,” he shrugs, taking a second as if to form a protest. “I guess you're right,” he admits and laughs. You laugh with him, opening your mouth to say something else but unfortunately, you were interrupted by a screech echoing in the distance.

Both you and Percy stand up quickly, trying to figure out which direction it came from. “The harpies,” you both mutter in unison. You bend down to grab your things, and you look at Ambrose.

"Go distract them, bud," you tell him, and Ambrose jumps up to his feet, and you watch as he runs away, barking to get their attention. Just then, you see the wings of the Harpies coming up from the trees of the forest. You turn to Percy, grabbing his hand quick,

“Incantare: Transpectus!" You exclaim confidently, closing your eyes to envision you and Percy becoming transparent on the dock. You've never tried doing this spell before, but you've gotten better at visualizing and setting intentions, so you had some hope in yourself. You open your eyes, not feeling any different, and you hoped that you just didn't make a fool of yourself in front of Percy. But when you look down at your hand hesitantly and notice it was hard to make out since you were see-through like glass, you sigh in relief. You smile to yourself, more than satisfied that you were able to pull that off.

"Woah, are we invisible?" You look over at Percy, able to see him just fine since he was under the spell with you. Percy looks down at himself, eyes widened as he processes he can’t see his body anymore. You observe him for a second, finding it cute how he looked surprised and obviously entertained at the fact that he was completely see-through. You feel yourself growing a little flustered, trying not to focus too much on the fact that you were holding hands with him.

"Something like that. C'mon, it won’t last too long," you whisper, and your grip around his hand tightens as you guys begin running to his cabin. You hear the harpies screeching in frustration as they swoop down to try and grab Ambrose, only for their claws to go right through him. While the harpies were growing more annoyed, Ambrose, on the other hand, was having way too much fun, running in circles and barking at them as if he’s teasing.

"Man, I wish I had a ghost dog," you hear Percy mutter behind you as you arrive at the steps of his cabin.

"Yeah, Ambrose is pretty great," you admit, watching him play with the harpies before shifting your gaze over to Percy. "Thanks for getting the crystal for me." As much as you wanted to stay talking to him, you knew you couldn't stay too long. You were still eager to finish studying, and Ambrose can only hold off the harpies for so long.

"It was no problem. It was on my way up anyways," he shrugs, and you smile, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach. You look down, the two of you still holding hands even though the spell wore off already. You awkwardly let go of his hand, shifting on your feet.

"Well, I'll see you around," you say sheepishly, fiddling with your fingers.

"Yeah, I'll see you.” His hand comes up in an awkward wave. You nod, returning the wave. Your eyes meet Percy’s green ones one more time before turning on your heels and walking down the steps of his cabin. You notice that Ambrose is now long gone into the forest, taking the harpies with him to give you time to rush to the other side where your cabin is.

As you hurry back to your cabin, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you replayed the interaction you just had with Percy, and you couldn't help but wonder when would be the next time you could talk to him.

You carefully hoist yourself up, climb back into the cabin through the window, sighing softly once you get in. You slowly close the window, your face scrunching at the creaking sound, but you successfully get it closed before turning around, only to be faced with Connor Stoll standing a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest. You gasp loudly, almost dropping the mason jar in your hand, being startled for the second time tonight.

“Oh, look who’s back,” he says, his lips pulled in his usual mischievous smirk, his right eyebrow raised as if he's suspicious of you. You shift, giggling nervously under his graze,

"Hey, Con.” Shit. You knew he wasn’t asleep, and a part of you wasn’t surprised that he had caught you sneaking out again. You weren’t too worried since Connor wasn’t one to be strict or easily angered, neither was Travis, but you can understand if he did get a little upset with you since the cabin could also get in trouble, and he worried about you getting hurt.

"You leave so often, I'm starting to think you're seeing someone," he teases, and you furrow your eyebrows, not really sure what he was trying to get at.

"I'm not seeing anyone. You know what I do when I sneak out," you tell him, putting your hand out to show him the jar full of water. After being caught the first couple of times, you had explained to Connor why you occasionally needed to head out at night. He was understanding of your reasons, telling you to try and not sneak out as often. When he did catch you, he always kept your outings secret. It came with a price, though. You were sometimes stuck doing extra chores, especially anything that had to do with cleaning, since he hated doing anything that had to do with mopping or sweeping.

"So that wasn't you and Percy on the dock?" Your eyes widen, and you feel your face get hot again. You shake your head, stumbling over your words for a second.

"Uh… n- that was a coincidence!" You hear him snort, laughing quietly as if he didn't believe you. Even though he couldn't see your facial expression very well in this lighting, he can still tell how flustered you were at his sudden question.

"Yeah, sure," he says sarcastically, and he hums, "Anyways, what are you going to do for me so that I don't tell on you?" He asks, and your mouth drops open. Usually, he wasn't so forward, and he never threatened to tell on you. "I might spread a rumor about you and Percy rendezvousing at midnight. The Aphrodite cabin will have a hoot with that one."

You gasp, "Connor, are you blackmailing me right now?" You narrow your eyes at him, and he shrugs,

"I guess you can say I am." You shake your head, walking over to your desk to put down your moon water before turning toward him and crossing your arms in front of your chest.

"... what do you want?" You ask, expecting him to make you take up one of his chores. But from the way he was smiling at you, you can tell that there was something more he wanted, and you were beginning to worry.

"Help me turn the Ares Cabin into bunnies," he says, and you shake your head frantically,

"No way! Clarisse will kill me," you whisper. Connor smiles,

"No, she won't. She can't kill you if she's a bunny," he points out, and your face falls flat,

"They're not gonna stay bunnies forever," you say, and you fiddle with your fingers nervously at the idea of the outrage you'd get from the Ares Cabin after shifting back from being bunnies. "I don't know, Con. I don't even know if I can turn all of them into bunnies at once."

Connor waves his hand at you, dismissing your concern. "I don't care for the logistics now. We can work on that later, but you have to agree to at least help me," he says. "Or I'm telling everyone I saw you smooching Percy on the dock."

"What!? We didn't even kiss. We talked for like 5 minutes!" You whisper-yell, your reactions much too entertaining for him, and he was having a hard time holding in his laugh.

"Your decision, y/n."

You sigh, throwing your head back. You look at the ceiling for a second as you consider your two choices. And you decide that getting your head potentially put on a stick by Clarisse was better than the burning embarrassment of Percy thinking you're spreading rumors about kissing him. "Fine, whatever. I'll help you do the bunny thing," you mumble, your shoulders slouched.

Connor nods with a proud smile on his face for trapping you into helping him. "Good choice. I will be going back to sleep now. Good night… again," he announces, turning on his heels and walking over to his bed. You frown a little as you walk back to your desk to study. Plopping down onto your chair, you decide that you’ll worry about Connor’s little plan later so you can focus on your studying. After a while, Ambrose comes trotting in, joining you by the desk as usual. You smile at him, praising the other for distracting the harpies for you before he lays down, his head laying on your foot.

As you study, you find that you couldn’t help your mind drifting back to Percy once and a while. You deem that there was no way that you could have a crush on him since you guys have only spoken once. In the midst of your internal debate to decide what you felt for him, you suddenly remember the crystal that was retrieved for you. You remember how Percy presented it to you, holding it out for you with his fingertips. It was your rose quartz. What a coincidence. You smile, rolling your eyes as you tell yourself that you’re thinking too much into it. You look over, noticing the dim illuminating light of the beginning sunrise shining through the curtains. You sigh, deciding that you should probably get to sleep and take advantage of the maybe, four hours of sleep you’ll get tonight. You close your herbology book before making your way to your bed, and with a soft sigh, you retreat under the covers, and finally, you surrender to your drowsiness.

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