#this is really just a random shot here

[mask131]

The thing that I always found abominably fascinating and insanely mind-blowing with the Earthsea series is that it breaks all the worn-out, over-used, “seen everywhere” cliches of fantasy people complain about today and try to avoid. 

Tired of your typical Europe-setting? Here is a world of islands influenced by a lot of various non-European civilizations!

Tired of having a white-predominant cast? Here is a series where people of color are the dominant ethnicities and the white are the minority and bizarre barbarian foreigners from far away!

Tired of having the heroes go on grand and perilous monster-slaying quest to fight some dark overlord or fetch a magical item? Here are books where the villains are elusive, abstract and philosophical threats, where the quests to defeat them are very down-to-earth, solitary and rely more on self-search and the understanding of human nature rather than great exploits. 

Tired of seeing the same old-worn out fantasy races tropes? None of this here! 

This book series was created with the intention of subverting, avoiding or breaking the new tropes and stereotypes that were rising up with the success of Tolkien’s work. It was made to be different and ground-breaking and stereotype-crushing, and it worked extremely well, becoming a classic of fantasy literature and influencing the genre massively... And yet, people only rediscover it today, and know about it today somehow. (Well a “large” today including the dozen of last years of so).

This series is the perfect example of the “new” fantasy that rises up in the modern era, as an attempt to “break off” from the “traditional” or “cliche” fantasy... And the first book has been sitting there since the END OF THE 60s!!! 

There are more examples I could point out of books that present to us a completely out-there, trope reinventing, stereotype breaking form of fantasy - and that yet have been there since the 70s or the 80s, or even before! As I went back in time to see several of the “classics” of fantasy literature, I came to understand something - a lot of the “cliches” and “stereotypes” and “over-used tropes” of fantasy people complain about today were not at all dominant for a very long time. If you believe the words of many people out there, you imagine fantasy never had black characters or queer characters or non-European settings or non-Tolkienesque plotlines until the 2010s or something... Which is not true. Fantasy was such a varied, bizarre, diverse genre in its literary form all throughout the 20th century, and many “old” works of the first generations of the post-Tolkien fantasy are basically what people want to see today as “pattern-breaking and fresh new fantasy”. 

The Tolkienesque-fantasy and all of its cliches and stereotypes were not so much dominant as just present in a handful of massively popular and widespread works - the case of the Shannara series can be pointed out, as its first book was PRAISED at the time for being able to recreate a Tolkien story in the 70s, and it was because it was mostly a copy of the Lord of the Rings that it got so popular (and why it is not well-liked today). And then the 80s rolled and early D&D reignited the flame of the Tolkien-inspired fantasy. By the 90s, it seemed Tolkien had been used and over-used to death, and people didn’t trust it all anymore... Which is why David Eddings’ Belgariad series was created. Its key point was to take back all the elements of the traditional epic fantasy story, but reassemble them, freshen them up, twist them slightly, all of that to re-create a by-the-book BUT fresh, new and interesting series. It was an attempt at prooving that, with innovation and some twists and modernization, the Tolkienesque fantasy would not die - and it worked massively well. And then in the 2000s, the Lord of the Rings movie sealed the deal. 

All these works make it look like fantasy had always been copying or taking inspiration from Tolkien. But it is false. It is true that most of the classics are tied to Tolkien, but not always in imitation or re-creation - in the case of “Earthsea”, there was a willing attempt at getting away and inverting the Tolkienesque fantasy to create a fantasy that went the very opposite direction. Same thing with the Elric Saga, also designed to be the reverse or opposite of The Lord of the Rings, and which in turn became the classic of another new genre of fantasy: dark fantasy. And Conan in all that? People forget that the Conan the Barbarian series were just as influential for fantasy works as Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings was. The Elric Saga, again, was created to completely reverse and avoid the Conan-like fantasy. A similar thing was done with Leiber for his “Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser” series, which was designed to break away from the Conan “heroic fantasy” style and reinvent the genre in a new direction. 

There are so many “old” and “classic” works of literary fantasy that actually do not feel like a “classic” at all because they have all the vibes, elements and expectations one has from a non-classic, non-traditional fantasy... BUT THEY ARE THE FOUNDATIONS, they are the basis and classics and inspirations of fantasy. And it all shows this huge gap between what people think fantasy is, and what fantasy really was - it is a fascinating case study of how one specific trend somehow got over the entire genre. Imagine a world where people think Gothic novels can only have a vampire or the ghost of a judge, and must be Bram Stokers-inspired, and that everybody points out they are tired to see Dracula-expies everywhere... Only to discover the stories of Edgar Allan Poe and be baffled by them and their “inventivity” and “breaking of patterns”. I’m sorry, that’s the fastest comparison I can make, but this feels just like that. There is this strangely specific idea of what fantasy is today forged on a few items... I think, beyond the massive success of Tolkien and imitators, D&D probably is also to “blame” for how people see fantasy today.

But even then, D&D took inspiration from so many non-conventional works of fantasy... Yes many became “classics” now, though often ignored by the masses - The Elric Saga, and Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser were big influences. But take the Jack Vance series “The Dying Earth”, another big inspiration on early D&D. Take that. This series is from the 50s - FROM THE 50S - and yet it is a unique genre of sci-fi fantasy that I haven’t seen much being done around, and it creates such a weird, whimsical, bizarre, surrealistic fantasy world, it feels completely unique. And again, it is a classic of the 50s and 60s. 

I don’t really know where I try to go with this but the important thing is: when someone wants to read “non-traditional” or “non-Tolkienesque” fantasy, or “non-stereotyped” fantasy, it is possible, instead of searching for every new author nowadays (not a bad thing to do that though), it is possible to just go back in time, look back at the books of the 70s, 60s and 50s, and find there a novelty, a freshness and an inventivity that is lacking in a mass production of modern day fantasy. And that such a thing is possible is truly crazy for me. I don’t know if such a thing happened with other literary genres, but it is insane that sometimes in fantasy, to see “new” things you just have to look back into the past. 

[lesbiansforeddiediaz]

Where my Eddie meta differs from the popular fanon is I don't think all his problems are because he's gay and I don't think kissing a man would heal him or really benefit him much at all. (He is gay but that's not important right now)

[megumi-fm]

.

[sskk-manifesto]

Next time we should just skip over ep 3 and do a chapters 84-87 reread

[prudentfolly]

Day 24: Party

One of the perks of Prudence's current position is that she can attend balls thrown by her Lady. It is a game for her, seeing how well she blends in with the crowd, eaves dropping, building a persona for the evening.

[lazarus-harp]

I think A LOT about what the survivors do post-season. would nikita try and pretend that nothings happened? would mat watch the videos the dead made to humanize those who had to die for him to survive?

you're the survivor connoisseur, what do you think?

for one, i'm very flattered to be seen as the 'survivor connoisseur'! so thank you immensely for the kind words. and secondly, oh boy, this question couldn't of come at a better time ... considering how much post canon mat & nikita have been pingponging around my head! i'll try to be as coherent as possible, but if a lot of this is pure word vomit then i do apologize. it is merely the passion taking over haha.

nikita is someone who fascinates me greatly in the aftermath, because there's a level of realism within her that's lacking in mat. but it's cynicism mixed with denial! she doesn't believe they can bring everyone back i don't think, or at least that's what she tells herself over and over again. a mantra. a safety net. she is so scared to hope and she's even more scared of what might come after that ; there's a sense of shame inherent in her when faced with colleen's bitter coldness. unlike mat, she is all too aware of her horrible actions and what might follow. an awful nightmare of, even if i saved them, would they forgive me? would they want me around? would things be the same? and nikita knows the answer, or at least thinks she does. so much of her post everlock is trapped inside this in-between, which naturally makes her come off as wishy washy and contradictory. a perfect fit for her bizarre behavior in s4. she's willing to go through with the rescue mission because her desire aligns with mat's, yet she staunchly refuses to wallow in grief. she accepts people have died ( in her memorial to manny and roi, via the tear tattoos ) and has made progress in finding a life outside the death games, via bretman. she nurses her new best friend close and yet mostly keeps him separate from everything everlock has touched and tarnished. i like to imagine bretman is her secret and crutch for moving forward, into a future that won't ever have manny again. he acts almost like a replacement in her heart. makes that loss hurt a little less. and i also think matthew can tell that's what it's about, naturally causing some resentment on his end ... because to him, manny can't be replaced. nobody can. it's why we have to do this, nikita! in lots of ways, he views her more 'healthy' behavior as her giving up on this, on them, and he loathes it.

but, obviously, nikita's behavior isnt healthy and mat ( in typical him fashion, where it concerns her ) is completely misreading her actions. nikita isn't acting callously, she's just scared. it's not about forgetting or pretending, it's a matter of selfish safety she's more hellbent on having than ever before. putting her heart out there only for it to be crushed beneath the grim world she now knows they're apart of? putting hope out there, indulging in wishful thinking and fantasy, just for those dreams to be taken from her, again? it's staggering losses she's nervous to take, and she's already made this mistake with manny ; believing he could live despite the odds, trusting in a faulty system, seeing a light at the end of the tunnel that would have them stepping out into the morning together ... but she was wrong. manny surviving all those challenges, even ones he shouldn't have, was nothing more than being lucky. a fluke, if she could be that cruel and discredit his skills so easily. in the end, he was still ripped away, in a way so horrible, nikita might secretly wish he would've just died beforehand. hope and optimism are soiled for her, reality is all that's left. you see this no nonsense attitude from her a lot in s3 to begin with! she's keenly aware of their time limit and keeps their group moving onward, sparing little theatrics on the dead bodies of innocents paving their way. vocally acknowledges that whoever was chosen to be brought back could arrive pissed and vengeful, openly calling attention to the fact it's likely for vendettas to breed when the game they're playing isn't blameless. really, the troublemaker is more calculated and clever than most fans give her credit for, in my opinion. these are traits normally passed over to mat instead, despite his intense emotions getting the best of him multiple times in the show! he is prone to listen to his heart and his grievances, weaponizing grudges when he deems it fitting while nikita is forced to swallow them, and really let them go because emotions hinder her determination and path forward. it's no different here ... except isn't it? just a little bit? nikita falters under her own desires for things to be as they were and she can't fully fight the need to see manny again, or to save the day when she feels responsible for so much pain that night.

though this goes against some core traits of hers and i think that's where the struggle really lies. i want to see manny, but what if he hates me? would i rather live in a world where he can hate me or would i rather stay in one where he'll never get that chance? very selfish of her, i suppose, to potentially value those things over an entire human life, but it's so realistic and human i can't help but sympathize. especially when she sets aside everything she thinks anyway! the troublemaker goes into purgatory knowing it might fail, and that if it does, it's going to reopen every wound she's haphazardly stuck bandaids over. she knows bretman might see her for who she truly is, a liar and a killer and a betrayer and someone who can't love another enough, and forces him to come because fine, it's the end isn't it? and most importantly nikita goes in thinking she could be turned on and hated and this is exactly the reality she faces with colleen, leaving her frustrated, and angry, and turning her shame into vitriol just like before. post s4, with bretman pissed at her, mat broken, joey gone, and everything destroyed again ... nikita then has little else to do ( in her mind ) except to move on for good this time. here might come the pretending act : shrugging off devastating losses and a world full of horror, settling into strange contentment after everything. a false calm, but one she'd wear perfectly nonetheless. would probably quit the society and go back to mundane things, like shopping sprees and creation. live a quiet life. everlock, purgatory, and the year between nothing more than the teardrops on her face and a man she still can't rid herself of. she can't look colleen or bretman in the eye. little things carry over into her manicured life : a refusal to wear pink despite forever adorning blonde hair, never holding the cool steel of a gun in two hands, doesn't say “i love you,” anymore, and plenty of other burdens. but she tries to ignore these signs as much as possible.

still, nikita seems healthy when compared to mat! at least there's a level of acceptance from her, at least she no longer holds the dead. maybe she's too keen on shoving them away now -- but maybe it's a better alternative, when paired with the detective's obsession with them? so much of mat post s3 or even post s4 to me is about his love and desperation outweighing logic, reality, and whatever else stands in his way. stubborn in all the wrong ways for all the wrong reasons. he is a character who needs to be loved and he found a group ( as imperfect as it was ) who adored him so much they wouldn't even let him stay dead. it's a turning point he can't go back from, because now mat owes these people everything. it doesn't matter to him that, really, only safiya and joey brought him back ... because when he stumbled through that door, everyone was so happy. they smiled and grabbed at him and it's probably the most welcome he's ever felt! it's a warmth he won't ever feel again but is chasing. so unlike nikita he can't play into denial. he can't move on or confront what'll happen if he fails. he can't fail, not again, because mat has to save somebody and he has to make the pain worth it. he was killed by the strongman? well, at least it wasn't manny, at least it wasn't permanent, at least mat came back to nothing but love and affection, and how could he ever trade that for anything? all his friends died because of a game they were forced to play? well, mat's out of everlock, he's free, he doesn't need to play by invisible rules anymore and he can bring everyone back and they can be together, and then the suffering will pale in comparison to the reunion awaiting them, right? it's scary for him to consider death and what it means : being forgotten, having everything you've done amount to nothing, laying in the dark of some terrible night all alone, permeant. so he does whatever he can to rebel against these fears that he believes are universal, but are merely his own. he'll get his hands on everything his group was in ( pictures, videos, articles, ) and he'll religiously consume them to remember. he'll think of them always, as ghosts in the corner of his eye, and will never do a single action without thinking about them in some way, to make them still amount to something beyond the veil. he'll heroically save them from a permanent slumber, like they did for him, so they can lay in the sun or in the comfort of a shared room and they can be permanently alive, at least for now. it's loving and it's devotional and it shows how deeply matthew cares and how big his heart is, but it's selfish too.

mat is preventing himself from pain this way, necessary pain. he's stalling the grieving process by entertaining a world in which they'll all be saved and will be able to move on together. he's leaving his wounds open and prodding at them so they won't ever close because finding a life outside of this is horrifying for him. and reasonably so! he died, and now he's just back? he's supposed to ... what, exist? be his old self? what's the protocol for revival? is he allowed to mourn someone he still is, or is he meant to pretend it's a life continued rather than a brand new one? scary ideas, scary theories, not a single guiding hand in sight. clinging to everlock and who he was then is safe, it's who he is now. except, is it? or is that the identity he's carved for himself because facing this world with brand new eyes makes him want to die? how can he move on from the very place he died in? it doesn't seem fair! or ... right. it's unnatural and mat is confused and he's floundering. clinging is all he can think to do. this also shuts him off from forming new connections or rekindling with old ones and that's safe too, not having to look at someone and think about if they'd survive the vote. if they could make it to the end with him, if it ever happened again. it also doesn't help that mat just has a chronic 'i'm a good guy!' problem and if he can undo everything he won't have to confront the fact he's not as perfect as he thought he was. like, while nikita is scared of hope and what it might do to her, mat is scared to look in the mirror and acknowledge he'd do anything to survive. that he's callous and cruel, that he's someone who would save his own skin rather than sacrifice himself for another. that's not who he is -- was? identity is a huge part of his conflict here!

it's a big bag of worms! there's many complexities at play, butting heads with their new natures and desires ... with each other too, clearly. mat obsessively drowns in the past and only works towards his ideal future ( i don't even think s4's failure would deter him ) and everything else just falls in-between. nikita lives life normally for once and maybe tentatively branches out to find new friends again, just because it's a sign she's making progress and it's something that'll show mat that moving on is possible, thanks. ways of dealing that take them down different roads eventually but they'll never let each other go so there's that new constant at least! and they're both actively hiding all the while, whether they know it or not. tragic!

anyway, i know this is ungodly long and ramble-y but i do hope it somewhat answered your question! i know i mostly talked about their mindsets and inner workings rather than what they specifically do in the aftermath, but! i think you can infer a lot based on their mindsets here. like, oh mat would rather start a scrapbook full of dead people's photos he's lovingly collected versus ... taking up journaling. nikita would rather follow an online course on cooking just because she's bored as fuck versus ... reaching out to the society so she can train with swords again. that kinda thing <3

[wanderingmind867]

I know I shouldn't care about my posts getting notes. But when I see some of them still have 0 notes, my brain seems bothered by it. Thankfully, I have more sense than I used to have (years ago, I would spam reblog my posts til they got noticed). Now I don't spam reblog things, but I do tend to make constant posts like these, where I worry about not being seen and where I pretty much seem to beg and panhandle for some stupid notes. I don't get it. Am i trying to lose what little friendships i have by guilt tripping people? Because i feel like i'm guilt tripping people.

Still, I can't stop myself from making these types of posts. The stupid desire for attention seems to be overpowering, and that really confuses me. I don't have any reason to be this hard up for attention. But since I have no answers, let's end with some more guesses. Do I make these posts out of habit? Out of a desire for attention? Just because I overthink everything and stress myself out? The answer may be yes to all of these, or it may be no to all of them. I legitimately don't know.

[keeps-ache]

linelesssss oohoohoo !!

[cynicalmusings]

‘the most crucial skill that a good drinksmith needs is listening… drinksmithing is all about having conversations with your guests’

tea house owner!reader energy for real

[racke7]

Huh. I actually managed to finish Divinity 2 for once.

[lilreidgirl]

Do I wanna know?

Summary: You and Drew are best friends, but you want more. What happens when you get invited to a day out on Drew’s friend’s yacht and get more?

Warnings: MDNI(18+), fem!reader, thigh riding, daddy kink, nicknames used (princess, baby, little lady, good girl…), kissing, alcohol (beer), swearing, no use of (y/n), reader wears a skirt, shy!reader, pining amongst friends, English is not my first language, if I forgot anything; please let me know!!

WC: ~2.4k (no idea how that happened)

A/N: I got inspired by this photo so I wrote this at like 2 am and I’m posting it now at 5 am, this is a mess, gn my loves (NOT PROOF READ, SORRY) (also this is my first fic about Drew so yeah)

When your best friend, Drew Starkey, invited you to a small get together on his friend’s yacht, you were more than willing to go. You and him had been friends since years, getting to know each other through mutual friends and suddenly you were eating take out with a b-list celebrity every other night.

You twirled around in front of your full body sized mirror, watching with amusement as your skirt twirls with you, the ruffles bouncing as they fluttered in the wind.

“Wow. Really doesn’t take much to get a smile on that pretty little face of yours, huh?” Drew chuckled as he watched you spin around.

Startled by his voice you stopped your little turns, looking at him with a small playful glare when the dizzy fog finally cleared from your vision.

“I’m just a happy person. You should try it sometime” you shot back, but you knew it was no use. Drew was great at talking, arguing, whatever. He was great with people in a way you just couldn’t figure out for yourself.

But honestly? You were fine just standing on the sidelines watching him do his thing, waiting for him to abandon that and come talk to you for a bit.

You had been fine with it.

Lately every time he laughed and grinned at one of your sarcastic comments and every time he stared at you like he was a theoretical physicist and you had the answers to string theory, you couldn’t help but want more. Couldn’t help but want that “best friend” status to be upgraded to “girlfriend”. Hell, you even dreamt of being called his wife.

For now though, you were just going to try and enjoy the day on a luxurious boat.

Soon you found yourselves in the car. You clicked on random songs on your phone and sand along to the “wait, this is the best part, shut up”’s before yet again changing the song as Drew drove to the harbour, admiring the way you seemed so enthralled by the different songs and music.

“Would love to continue listening to your big world tour concert, little lady, but we’re here,” he announced once he’d gotten the car carefully parked.

Excitedly, you jumped out of Drew’s car, watching as he did the same before you both made your way closer to the water where many ships floated atop the sea.

At the same time, you both spotted Drew’s group of friends, waving at them as they saw you two as well.

You’d gotten to know them a bit but the amount of group hangouts you attended, didn’t really allow you to form a strong bond to any of Drew’s friends.

What can you say?

You’re just not a people person.

You’re a person person.

A Drew person.

You squashed the ridiculous thought, giggling it off before you checked that your outfit was neatly in order.

Upon seeing you inspecting your clothes, Drew leaned down and whispered in your ear, his breath tantalizingly brushed against your ear and neck as he spoke, “You look amazing, baby, don’t worry.”

As you reached the boat, the smile you had shared for a few enchanting seconds came to a sudden end.

“Hey, Drew!” Various different voices greeted the both of you and you both returned the favour with just as much enthusiasm.

One of the guys, the one whose yacht it was presumably, invited everyone aboard.

Your eyes flitted to everything around you, spotting a few seats, some complicated looking boat equipment and random day-to-day fun stuff lying around.

The smell of fish and sea breeze filled the air and your nostrils, but that scent quickly evaporated when Drew stepped next to you, finally finished with catching up with his friend and was now holding out a beer bottle for you to take. His cologne took over, overwhelming your senses. Something you were definitely not complaining about.

You accepted the beer from him, taking a sip before handing it back to him and watching as he repeated your action of drinking from the bottle.

Your gaze drifted to his Adam’s apple as it bobs when he took gulps of the alcoholic drink. He lowered the glass container from his lips, putting his strong bicep right in your line of sight.

As embarrassing as it is to admit you could have almost moaned from just looking at his muscly arm.

He must have taken off his shirt sometime between helping you up the steps on the side of the ship, his hand securely wrapped around your thigh to keep you from falling, and when he seemingly appeared behind you as you admired your surroundings.

Then your eyes found his chest, strong pecs priding over his abs that seemed carved from the very marble that Michelangelo had used to sculpt David, each muscle defined with an almost perfect precision to it.

Just before you could take a good look at his black swim shorts hanging off his hips and hugging his beefy thighs, his voice called your name.

“Hey, come on, picture time,” he reiterated what he had said when you were still zoned out.

“Oh. Okay,” Throwing your thoughts back into reality, you watched as everyone made their way over to the discussed upon place where the photo would be taken.

“Who wants to set the timer?” A girl, who you’d forgotten the name of, asked.

Something with an F? L? A? Who cares.

“Not it!” Was called by everyone but you, your face quickly morphing from a surprised look of “who the hell still uses ‘not it’?” to an accepting face that you were in fact “it”.

The girls and boys all took their places on the netting of the boat. The 5 people in front of you got ready to pose for the group photo.

Efficiently, you adjusted the tripod so that the camera of the phone pointed perfectly towards the centre of everyone.

You bent down, looking at the screen of the mobile. You saw Drew depicted by many pixels, your thighs clenching when he moved his hips up to readjust his position on the midnight blue blanket that lay sprawled over the rough nylon net.

Fuck, he was perfect.

Of course, you fixed your hair one last time before pressing the white button on the right side of the device, starting the 10 second countdown until the picture.

Swiftly, you made your way around the tripod, and plopped down onto the free space between a dark haired guy, you’ve come to know as Matthew, and Drew. You smiled sweetly at the round circles on the back of the phone as Drew slung an arm around your shoulders.

Once the photo was taken, everyone scattered and the usual chatter was back. You ran up to the phone and you looked at the image.

Well fuck.

Drew looked absolutely freaking ethereal.

His sitting in a reclined position with one leg bent and the other stretched out, manspreading, almost made you go feral. He was smiling widely toward the camera, his impossibly bright grin attracting all the attention in the photo.

His body looked like a dream. For a moment, you thought maybe you were dreaming, if you were you would hold onto the memory of the photo, even if it was just a dream, for the rest of your life.

God, pining for your hot best friend made you sound so so pathetic.

The thought that what you were experiencing was just a dream was snapped in two like a twig when Drew came up from behind you and flicked your bare back.

“Ouch!” You exclaimed, a frown forming on your face.

“‘M sorry, princess,” he swung his arms over your shoulders, holding on to you from behind like a koala would his mother, peering at the screen in your hands.

“Did it turn out good?” He asked casually, acting as if he didn’t see how your face was blushing an awfully deep shade of red and don’t even start to think that he missed the way you were obviously turned on.

“Yup,” you answered curtly, ducking down to be released of any physical contact with him, because you felt as if you would melt if he touched you a second longer.

“I’m um… gonna go below deck. The sun uh- it’s hitting me pretty hard right now. I have a headache,” you lied, coming up with some excuse to just get yourself somewhere where you can have your alone time.

“O…kay…” He didn’t seem convinced but that wasn’t for you to deal with in that moment. You made your way down the stairs leading below the deck of the ship, the room was nice and cozy.

With a sigh of relief you sat down on a wooden bench near the kitchen and slipped your phone out of your purse.

After a few minutes of mindlessly scrolling through various social media apps you heard footsteps nearing you, causing you to look up.

Your eyes met none other than Drew Starkey himself.

“On your phone when you have a headache? Really?” He asked unamused. “You lyin’ about the headache or you just stupid?”

“Stupid…?” you offered in a quiet meek voice.

“C’mon, sweetheart, what’s the problem, huh? You don’t like my friends or something?” He questioned as he sat himself down next to you on the oak plank.

“No, no, they’re great, I just…” You really should have been able to come up with something to say but the way his forearm was flexing as it rested on his thigh distracted you.

A smirk grew on Drew’s face. “No yeah, I uh-“ he chucked as he shook his head in what looked like slight disbelief, “I know.”

Unsure of the true meaning behind his comment you averted your eyes to the floor, focusing on the swaying of the boat on the water instead of Drew’s piercing blue eyes staring intently at you.

He leaned back with a sigh, his legs spreading wider and his arm sneaking behind your back and around your waist. “You’re kind of ridiculous, you know that?”

All you could do was nod which earned you yet another laugh from Drew.

Just as you were about to persuade yourself to actually speak, you were pulled onto Drew’s lap by his arm, his hands quickly settling you on his thighs.

“Wha-“

“I know, princess,” he cooed.

You know you should have felt at least slightly degraded or mad because of his tone but the only thing it did, was make you want to clench your thighs together. Which of course wasn’t possible because each of your legs rested on different sides of Drew.

“You look so pretty today, baby,” he said, tucking some loose strands of hair behind your ear before moving his face down to your neck and pressing soft, fleeting, sensational kisses to the side of your collar.

Your breathing became panted and you unintentionally slowly rubbed your core along the material of his pitch black swim trunks.

“Not even a thank you?” He murmured teasingly as his kisses walked over to the area right under your ear and his large hands gripped your hips harshly, stopping you from any further movement.

“Th- thank you…” You whispered, your tone dipped and coated in your lust and arousal.

You felt a small nip on your throat that made you let out a small “Ah-!”

“Thank you…?” He muttered expectantly.

“Sir?” You tried, getting your confirmation of that being the wrong answer when a more harsh bite was left just under your jawline.

“Daddy..” you practically moaned out, the small pleasure that you got from the bites making you rut against Drew’s strong hold on your body.

“Good girl…” he praised, his face finally coming up to meet yours, kissing you softly but also at the same time with an unforeseeable force.

His fingers stopped drilling into the skin over your hipbones, letting you push your aching core down onto his covered thigh.

He broke the kiss, his plump lips and hot breath trailing over your cheek as you both gasped from air.

His hand roughly grabbed the back of your head, wrapping his fingers around your messy hair, holding you tight against him.

Immediately after, his other hand took hold of your hip again, helping you grind down on his swim pants.

“That’s right, baby, use daddy’s leg,” he breathed out heavily.

“Such,” he pressed a sloppy kiss to your jawline, “a,” another kiss was placed on the corner of your mouth, “good,” he said before pecking your lips, “girl,” he murmured into your mouth before shoving his tongue down your throat.

The press of his thigh onto your bikini bottom made a perfect friction emerge against your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

“What about-“ you started.

“I locked the door, sweetheart, no worries.”

The way he basically read your mind made you feel even more turned on.

Your folds rubbed back and forth in your

soaking wet swim bottoms as you gripped Drew’s shoulders tightly, eyes squeezed shut as he continued to spew out praise after praise to you.

Suddenly a knock resounded throughout the room, a sudden halt coming to your despicable actions.

“Hello? Anyone in here? Why is the door locked?” A female voice asked from the other side of the door.

“One second!” Drew called before returning his attention to you.

“We’ll finish this later, yeah?” All you could do was nod, still completely dazed.

He picked you up off his lap, helping you settle back into a standing position and smoothing out both of your guys’ clothes.

With a casual smile on his face he unlocked and opened the door, spouting out some excuse for the door being locked before leading you upstairs with him.

For the rest of the afternoon, you sat, with a drink in hand, watching Drew talk amongst his friends, his eyes flicking to you every once in a short while.

Once other people started leaving and the sun started setting, he walked up to you.

“Ready to leave, princess?”

“Uh-huh,” you uttered out, standing up and saying your goodbyes to everyone that still found themselves on the yacht.

As you walked down the dock, admiring the sunset, you gripped onto Drew’s arm.

“Everything okay?” He asked.

You looked up at him with an “Are you serious?” face, annoyed at his nonchalant antics.

“Gee, sorry, okay?” He chuckled.

“I’ll make you feel good soon. Don’t worry, little lady.”

@emma-e-a

[strawbuddy-luv]

Trans Tim off handedly mentioning random things that just confuse people more and more because he never told them he was trans (only Bruce and Alfred know)

Tim: "For the mission I'm thinking I'll go undercover, but it'll take some work to hide the bruises I got earlier. They're everywhere"

Dick: "Oh I think Steph is free right now!"

Tim: "...Ok?"

Dick: "Don't worry I'm sure she'll help you out with this! "

Tim: "That's awesome but I don't think I'll need help. I know how to use makeup."

Dick: "Really-? Ohhh, yeah your public image is like, way more public than ours. That must be tiring, having to hide the bruises all the time."

Tim: "Well yeah but I knew how to use makeup before that. For like, galas as a kid and stuff"

Dick: "...yeah..."

-----

Steph: -Complaining about a man- "And then he said "Oh you should smile more" like "you look like you don't want to be here" like what- what the fuck-??? Maybe I fucking don't dude."

Tim: "Oh yeah I hate when they do that. Like you've spent the entire time bitching about the consistency of snails, I can close my mouth for a few seconds."

Steph: "..."

Tim: "...What-?"

Steph: "Well- I mean yeah but- you know I have to deal with it like...way more, and it's just a bit weird that like, you as a guy are, I dunno, trying to relate? I mean you don't have to deal with it litreally everyday"

Tim: "Well yeah not anymore, but, you know...I still did."

Steph: :...What-"

-----

Tim: -Resting against one of the rooftop ledges-

Jason: "Woah, I can't believe it, Red Robin, slacking. What would Bruce do if he saw this!"

Tim: "Fuck off, it's just period cramps." -Jumps off the edge of the building-

Jason: "Yeah whatever Timblina...

Your fucking what-"

-----

Bruce: "And for this mission, we'll be needing someone for the Caroline disguise, but we already know who that is so-"

Dick: "Wait does Steph actually know how to fight in heels-??"

Bruce: "...N-"

Steph: "Yeah Bruce, I mean, you could at least actually ask me before volunteering me to go fight crime in that dress."

Bruce: "You-"

Jason: "I mean no offense, but literally who else would do it? Cass isn't here right now and I don't think any of us are willing to get a boob job for the mission"

Bruce: "No one's getting a boob job-"

Steph: "Yeah! This is bat tech, Bruce probably has ultra realistic titties in everyone's color and size! Jason you wouldn't even need an attachment."

Jason: "I don't think Caroline Hills has fifty gun shot wounds and muscles the size of most those guys heads."

Steph: "Yeah bu-"

Bruce: "None of that will be necessary because none of you" -Pointing at the right side of the table- "Will be going. No one at this table will be needing any prosthetics...Or boob jobs."

Steph: "...Ok but who the fuck is going then-"

Bruce: "Tim."

The entire table: "..."

Steph: "Tim are you really willing to put on boobs for this-"

Dick: "I don't think that's the best idea-"

Jason: "You just said no prosthetics- Oh this'll be fucking rich"

Tim: "...

I...wouldn't need a boob job?? Or prosthetics?"

Jason: "Timbo, that dress is a pretty low cut, and, no offense, your training hasn't given you that many enhancements."

Tim: "...Thank you for the binding compliment?"

Dick: "The what-"

Tim: "Guys I- I already have boobs-"

The Table: "..."

Steph: "WHAT-"

Dick: "You do-?!"

Jason: "Bruce if you made Tim get boobs for some weird mission-"

Tim: "What- No! No one made me get boobs??? Besides, I don't know, biology I guess??? Genetics maybe???"

Dick: "...I'm extremely confused"

Steph: "WHO GAVE YOU BOOBS-???"

Tim: "I'm not really sure seeing as I was born with them"

Dick: "...

OHHHHHH-"

Steph: "What- is this like a birth defect or something???"

Dick: "Tim- Tim I think you're just gonna have to-"

Tim: "I'm trans."

Jason: "...That's-

Yeah

Ok yeah no that- that explains...a lot."

Steph: "..." -Head in hands- "I am such a fucking idiot"

[dearlenore]

DAUGHTER IN LAW • S.REID

SUMMARY: after Spencer gets out of jail, he is determined to find the perfect caregiver for his mother. However, to his surprise, she seems to have already found the ideal nurse herself.

PAIRING: fem!nurse!reader x spencer

tags: reader is a cutie pie, reader wears makeup, reader is flirty bombshell, mentions of schizophrenia, Alzheimer’s, canon cm violence

a/n: so much medical!reader x Spencer, if you are waiting on a request please be patient! I’m trying to knock out all my drafts before writing new things🥹 love u all!!

w/c: 1.5k

“MOM, I’M HOME!” Spencer called out from the front door, tossing his keys into a bowl and his satchel onto the couch. “Mom?” His voice rose with concern when no reply came.

He moved to her room, frowning as he realized the door wasn’t fully closed. Knocking lightly, he pushed it open.

“Oh! You must be Doctor Reid?” you said with a warm smile as you stepped out.

Spencer’s hand shot instinctively toward his holster.

“Woah! Please don’t…” you stammered, raising your hands in surrender. “I’m definitely unarmed.” You let out a nervous laugh.

“Spencer!” His mother’s sharp voice cut through the tension. “Where are your manners?” She shook her head in annoyance as she appeared behind you. “She’s my new nurse — since you insisted I needed one.”

“You can’t just invite random people into my apartment!” Spencer protested.

You quickly stepped forward, balancing on your tiptoes to peek over his mother’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry,” you said sincerely. “She sort of…chased her last nurse out of the building, and I saw her outside. I figured I’d help her out. Plus, I brought groceries?” You smiled sheepishly, pointing to the bags on the counter.

Spencer narrowed his eyes at you, clearly trying to size you up. After a moment, he exhaled heavily and dropped onto the couch, burying his face in his hands.

“Sorry… I’m sorry, I just… had a long day,” he mumbled.

“I get it,” you said, sitting beside him — not too close, but close enough that your knee brushed his. “Caretaking’s no picnic either. Your mom’s been telling me all about your job.”

“She did?” Spencer’s head lifted slightly, surprise flickering in his tired eyes.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “She’s amazing — kind, patient, funny. And for someone who was in a care home just a month ago… she’s awfully aware.”

Spencer rubbed his eye and gave you a confused look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That maybe…” You paused, your smile turning a little playful. “Maybe love’s the best medicine.”

He snorted softly, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “That sounds like something from one of those feel-good hospital dramas.”

“Oh, totally,” you agreed with a grin. “But hey… if it works, it works.”

For the first time that day, Spencer’s shoulders seemed to relax. “Maybe you’re right,” he admitted.

“I usually am,” you teased. “But hey, if you’re skeptical, I could always prescribe you some fresh air — maybe a coffee run? Strictly professional recommendation, of course.”

Spencer looked up at you, and for a moment, he wondered if you were in the wrong profession. Caretaking? Really? With your warm smile, soft voice, and effortless charm — not to mention that gorgeous figure (which he tried very hard not to stare at for too long) — you seemed more like someone who belonged on a stage or in a room full of admirers.

And yet here you were, fussing over his mother with gentle patience, helping her get comfortable in her armchair. You draped a cozy blanket over her lap, making sure she had her tea close by. His mother never let anyone take care of her without a fight — but with you, she seemed calm, even content.

“She’s the kind of girl you should marry,” his mother murmured suddenly, her voice low but unmistakably firm.

Spencer blinked. “Mom…” He shot her a look, but she just raised an eyebrow.

“I’m just saying,” she added with a shrug, before turning back to her book.

Spencer lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching you hum softly as you wiped down the kitchen counter. The sight of you — moving so comfortably in his home, sleeves pushed up as you puttered around like you belonged there — made something unfamiliar twist in his chest.

“Hey,” you called out, breaking him from his thoughts. “Are you hungry? I was thinking I could make dinner… if you don’t mind some experimental cooking.”

“You cook too?” Spencer asked, stepping into the kitchen.

“Well…” you shot him a teasing smile. “I can read a recipe. That’s basically the same thing, right?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, something like that.”

The two of you moved around the kitchen, bumping elbows and brushing past each other in the small space. Every time your arm grazed his, Spencer felt his pulse jump. At one point, you reached over him to grab a pan, your hair brushing his shoulder, and he nearly forgot what he was supposed to be doing.

“You know,” Spencer said, clearing his throat, “I’m… surprised my mom’s actually letting you take care of her. She’s usually pretty stubborn.”

“She’s sweet,” you replied as you stirred a pot on the stove. “A little feisty, but I like that. Besides…” You glanced over your shoulder at him. “I have experience with stubborn people.”

“Oh?” He leaned against the counter, smirking. “And how do you deal with them?”

You grinned. “Patience. And charm.”

“Seems to be working.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Your smile widened, and Spencer felt a wave of heat crawl up his neck.

After dinner, once his mother had gone to bed, you lingered at the door with your bag slung over your shoulder.

“So…” you said with a smile. “About that coffee?”

“Yeah,” Spencer replied, a little too quickly. He swallowed, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “I’d love to… sometime.”

Your smile softened, and you reached up, brushing a stray curl away from his forehead. “Good. It’s a date,” you said, giving him a playful wink before heading out to put dinner on the coffee table for him, yourself and his mom.

Spencer stood there for a long moment after you’d gone, still feeling the ghost of your fingertips on his skin.

Come eat, Doctor Reid!” your voice called out, breaking Spencer from his trance once more.

You were sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table, arranging plates like it was the most natural thing in the world. The soft glow from the nearby lamp lit your face, and Spencer wondered how you managed to look so effortlessly put together after such a long day.

He shook off the thought and quickly walked over.

“Where are my manners?” you said, standing up and dusting your hands off on your scrubs. “What would you like to drink, Mrs. Reid?”

“Oh, just water is fine,” she replied with a gentle smile.

“You got it,” you said, brushing past Spencer on your way to the kitchen. Your arm briefly grazed his, and he swore his brain short-circuited for a second.

He sat down beside his mother, still a little distracted. “So… you like her?”

His mother gave him a pointed look. “I like her more than that last nurse you sent.”

“Well, yeah,” Spencer chuckled. “That guy quit before his second shift.”

“Because I chased him out,” Mrs. Reid said with a sly smile.

“You’re impossible,” Spencer muttered, but his mother’s chuckle made him smile.

When you returned, you handed Mrs. Reid her water and passed Spencer a glass of iced tea.

“Figured you could use a little sugar,” you said with a wink.

“Are you trying to convince me to employ you?” Spencer asked, raising a brow. “But don’t worry about that

“Maybe,” you teased. “But only because you seem like you’re worth the effort.”

Spencer felt heat crawl up his neck again, but before he could respond, Mrs. Reid spoke up.

“You know,” she began, spearing a piece of roasted potato with her fork, “this is lovely. It’s been a while since I’ve had a proper home-cooked meal.”

“Glad you like it,” you said, smiling proudly. “I wasn’t sure if I remembered the recipe right.”

“It’s perfect,” Mrs. Reid assured you. “Spencer, you’d better keep her around.”

“Mom…” Spencer muttered, shooting her a look.

“I’m just saying!” she continued. “Smart, sweet, patient — and she cooks?” She gestured toward you with her fork. “That’s wife material right there. Your—“ she cut herself off before she could mention his father which you didn’t notice.

You laughed softly, looking down at your plate as your face warmed. “Wow, no pressure,” you joked.

Spencer groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “Please ignore her. She’s —”

“Right,” Mrs. Reid cut in. “I’m right.”

“Be nice! She wants to be able to see you get married someday,” you teased, flashing Spencer a grin.

He could only shake his head, but the smile tugging at his lips was impossible to hide.

By the time dinner wrapped up, the conversation had flowed easily — you sharing funny patient stories, Spencer rambling about obscure facts (which you seemed to genuinely enjoy), and Mrs. Reid chiming in with her own dry humor. It felt… comfortable. Like this was something that had been happening for years.

“Thank you,” Spencer said as you started gathering the dishes. “For dinner… for helping my mom… for everything.”

“Of course,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his. “I’ll be back tomorrow?”

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” Spencer said before he could stop himself.

You paused in the doorway, shooting him one last smile. “Goodnight, Doctor Reid.”

“Goodnight,” he murmured, watching you leave.

His mother cleared her throat dramatically from the couch.

“Wife material,” she said again with a smug smile.

[motorsportbarbie13]

Post It - LN4

when lando stumbles upon a random tiktok of a pretty american influencer, he can't stop himself from sliding into her DMs. what happens next is more than both of them ever bargained for.

warnings: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A ONE SHOT. (spoiler alert, it's not) (i blame @lestapiastrisgirl. She’s a bad influence 🤭) no warnings really, i just needed to have some soft boyfriend coded lando in my life again after how dirty i did him in 'aftermath'. ENJOY THE NEW SERIES MY BABIES! 🫶🏻 pairing: lando norris x influencer!reader word count: 3.7k words (plus SMAU posts)

Lando should have been paying attention. He should have been paying attention to Jack Whitehall standing up on stage, making jokes at Max and George’s expense. He absolutely should not have been using the down time between livery reveals to stalk your social media profiles but here he was. It wasn’t his fault trying to figure you out was way more interesting than anything the FIA and this stupidly awkward night had to offer. 

He had been scrolling his FYP earlier in the day while McLaren comms staff had bustled around the Hilton conference room, his attention pulled away from the boring media briefing Zak and Andrea were trying to get him to care about, when you had popped up on his screen. It was an innocent video, one that he usually would have flipped right on by but something had his thumb pausing, hovering over the screen instead of swiping away. 

You were in well lit hallway, lip syncing to that new Gracie Abrams song that was all over the place looking like you didn’t have a care in the world. Your smile was infectious as you held eye contact with the camera, arms thrown to your sides as you sang your heart out. It looked like you were about to go somewhere, a gray woolen overcoat tugged over your shoulders as a pink and white knit jumper peaked out from underneath. 

It was only when Oscar had asked him how many times he was going to listen to that thirty seconds of song that Lando realized he’d been watching your video for an embarrassing length of time. Turning crimson, Lando had quickly favorited the video to come back to later and closed out the app. 

He’d been caught up in preparations for this stupid F1 75 event for the rest of the evening but the moment he’d had a break, he was back stalking your socials. Your Instagram was conveniently linked to your TikTok account so it wasn't hard and the moment Lando started scrolling, he was hooked.

yourusername posted

909,102 likes liked by lando, yourbff, hannahstjohn, and others yourusername lots to catch up on... user0298 body is teeeeeea user1112 that gray dress tho! where is it from??? >>>yourusername @/aritzia!!! lando 🔥🔥🔥 (liked by author) >>>user0200 landooooo what are you doing here??? >>>user555 first in the likes too. he was QUICK

The Monegasque sun was blindingly bright, reflecting off the pristine white of Lando’s apartment balcony. He was trying to enjoy a rare moment of peace, something that he’d miss when the season started up in two weeks. Right now though, he had been back from testing in Bahrain for a few days and was leaving for Australia sometime next week. This was the last weekend of peace and quiet he’d have until summer break.

An insistent buzz shatters the quiet calm that he’d cocooned himself in, his phone blinking to life. He glanced at the screen. Rich. His personal PR manager that he’d hired after his last messy breakup to help with his image. 

“What is it, Rich?” Lando sighs. 

“Lando, we need to talk about this weekend.” Rich’s voice was sharp, a glaring contrast to the relaxed atmosphere of Lando’s apartment. 

“What about this weekend?” He asks, a knot forming in his stomach. Lando knew where this was going. 

“Allegra.” Rich says, his voice bright with faux enthusiasm. “She’s coming to Monaco this weekend. We need some content before the start of the season. Really amp up the exposure before you get too busy.” 

Allegra. Or Allie as she insisted Lando call her in private, but always Allegra in public. She was also managed by Rich, who was the one that had introduced them last year with the sole purpose of having them hit it off and start dating. When that hadn’t materialized, Rich had started meddling, sending her to events that he knew Lando would be at, having her come to Monaco and follow him around like a lost puppy. 

It had worked though. The rumors started swirling and before he knew it, Lando and Allie were rumored to be dating. He had never confirmed the relationship, always insisting that he was single and Allie had followed suit, coyly grinning in interviews when the model had been asked specifically about him. He hadn’t fought it though. Maybe he was a coward or maybe he just liked the attention, but it had certainly brought a certain degree of recognition to his name in the months that he had been linked to her. He never confirmed it but he never denied it either. 

And then he had met you. 

“No.” Lando says flatly, cutting him off. “Nope. I’m done with this.” 

“Done?” On the other end of the line, Rich sputters. “What do you mean, ‘done’? Think of your brand, your image! You have a merch drop happening in a few weeks and a rebrand with Quadrant! You need this attention.” 

“I don’t need her to bring me attention.” Lando scoffs. “I’m tired of playing this game. I’m tired of Allie. She’s…she’s weird, Rich. And this whole thing is a joke. I know you’ve seen the gossip pages laughing at me. Laughing at her. I’ve had enough.” 

“Lando.” Rich tuts, his tone taking on that of someone scolding a small child. The heat rises in Lando’s cheeks as he stands, pacing the balcony. “She’s a social media powerhouse. She brings in millions of impressions. People love talking about her, speculating about if she’s with you or not. This is a business.” 

“Business?” Lando laughs, cold and bitter. “This is a manufactured relationship, Rich. It’s fake and it’s draining. I don’t want her here. I don’t want her anywhere near me anymore. Either you tell her I’m done or I will, you choose.” 

“You’re being irrational. This is a PR strategy and it’s working! We’re getting the numbers, the attention! It’s everything you hired me to do!” 

Lando drags his hand over his face, scrubbing at the migraine that he feels forming behind his eyes. “I don’t care about the numbers.” He says tightly, his mind flickering to you and the way you’ve been a bit distant this week. “I care about my sanity. I care about being genuine and this? This thing with her? That is the opposite of genuine.” 

“You’re throwing away a huge opportunity.” Rich warns, frustration sneaking into his voice. “This is so unprofessional.” 

“Unprofessional?” Lando shouts, his anger getting the better of him. “You’re the one being unprofessional. You’re treating me like a product, not a person. The only thing you care about is your fucking paycheck, nothing else.” Lando’s chest heaves, his breath coming in short spurts. 

“Lando, calm down -” 

“No.” Lando spits. “No, I won’t calm down. I’m done with this. I’m done with you and I’m done with Allie. This whole charade is over.” He pauses, taking a deep breath, trying to control his rage. “You’re fired, Rich.” 

He slams the phone down, not even giving Rich the opportunity to respond. The abrupt silence amplifies the sound of his pounding heart as he sits down again. He stares out at the glittering expanse of the Mediterranean, the anger still simmering within him. He feels a strange mix of relief and anxiety. He had just burned a big bridge but it was a bridge he had never wanted to cross in the first place. He knew there would be consequences but for the first time in a long time, Lando felt like he was in control. 

Now, if only he could get you to return his calls. 

You thought you’d been prepared for the activity of the paddock. Hannah had spent enough time during the flight over telling you what to expect but the crowds in Shanghai were nothing short of overwhelming. The smell of engine oil and popcorn permeated the air, a strange mixture that tickled your nose in a slightly unpleasant way. You tried to calm the anxiety that was settling deep in your chest, the tight constricting feeling pulling at your ribs in a way that had you desperately wanting to go back to the hotel room. 

You knew it was strange, someone with as much anxiety and issues with crowds being an influencer like you were but most of the time you had control over it. You had asked Hannah so many questions about what to expect but nothing could have prepared you for the way the crowds crushed in on you even in the paddock. 

Liam had come to the track early to meet with his engineers before the practice and sprint qualifying. and Hannah had been left to your own devices. The crowds were one thing, you knew you’d get used to them eventually and that you just had to work your way through the panic but there was something else causing your shoulders to hitch up tightly towards your ears and your jaw tighten with every flash of orange you saw: Lando. 

It had been a few months since he slid into your DMs and at first is had been fun. He was charming, texting you nearly all day with all sorts of questions and banter, FaceTiming you while you were curled up in bed in your Boston apartment, talking about the fast lives you both lived. It was intoxicating getting attention from someone like Lando. His attention felt like the sun, all warm and welcoming. You knew there was chemistry there but you lived in Boston and he split is time between London and Monaco. You had expected him to invite you out to see him soon or at least bring up meeting somewhere half way.

But then the pictures had surfaced online. 

Lando walking around the busiest part of Monaco with his best friend Max, Max’s girlfriend Pietra and a blonde model named Allegra. It was so painfully clear he was with her from the shots of him driving her around in one of his many cars three weekends in a row.

You felt so stupid. Getting with a guy that was clearly comfortable being publicly seen on a double date was a hard no, you had more respect for yourself and Allegra to even touch that kind of drama. Of course, there was an endless debate on if they were even together or not, it didn’t take much to find the online gossip pages that spent a lot of time trying to figure out if they were an item. Lando had never publicly confirmed the relationship and neither had Allegra, both insisting they were just friend and Lando was single. 

But the pictures were hard to deny. 

So you had ghosted him. 

You didn’t want to be drug into the drama that seemed to surround the model, not with how well your content was doing lately. You had a huge following in the states and were starting to get attention internationally. You knew the last thing your PR manager would want to see was stories about you plastered all over the gossip pages. You had worked too hard to cultivate a wholesome reputation to be drug into a love triangle controversy, even if it ended up being manufactured by the press. You walked a fine line between wanting to be talked about and wanting to avoid being laughed at.

So when Hannah, one of your best friends from the influencer world, had invited you to tag along with her to the Chinese Grand Prix in April, you had hesitated. No one knew about you and Lando talking, not even your best friends. Sure, Lando had followed you and commented on a few of your posts but everyone chalked that up to you being friends with Hannah and Lando’s reputation to hit on pretty girls whenever he was active on social media. It hadn’t gained a ton of attention so you were able to pretty much ignore it.

But you couldn’t turn down Hannah’s invitation without raising some sort of suspicion. China had been on your bucket list of places to visit since you were little and you had enough miles saved up this year to be able make the long flight in a lie-flat first class seat with to your group of friends. You really had no excuse, so in the end you had agreed. 

But now that you were here, the possibility of running into Lando in the flesh after you had ghosted him hanging heavy over your head and the crowds pressing in, you were totally regretting your life choices. 

“You okay?” Hannah’s voice breaks through your racing thoughts, pulling you back to the present. 

“What?” You stutter, trying to bring your focus back to where you were in the moment. 

“Are you okay?” Your friend asks softly, eyeing you like she knows something is going on but can’t figure out what. “You just seem a little…tense.” 

You reach up to pull your hair off your neck, suddenly feeling like your skin is just a little too tight for the rest of your body. “I’m fine, just a little overwhelmed. This place is a lot.” 

Hannah’s eyes soften. She’s well aware of your anxiety and how you sometimes struggle with crowds. While she doesn’t struggle with the same issues, if there’s one thing you appreciate about your friend its that she has an uncanny ability to read your moods and empathize with you when it matters most.

“I know, but you get used to it quick. Liam has some engineering meetings before practice so he’s busy for another hour or so. Do you want to go hang out in hospitality? Get cooled down before practice?” 

You adjust your sunglasses on your nose before nodding, “Yeah, that sounds good. I’m sorry, you don’t have to stick around with me all day, I know you want to be with Liam.” 

Hannah waves a hand, dismissing your concern with one movement, “Stop that. That man gets so locked in before he gets into the car, he probably forgets I exist. I told him I’d be in the garage for practice but we’re free until then. Come on, we can get some content for TikTok. Didn’t you say you wanted to do a Chinese travel vlog?” 

Suddenly, a blur of green and yellow catches your attention from on your left. A scooter, driven by a distracted man in a green racing suit, was flying down the sidewalk at breakneck speed headed straight for you. He was going so fast you didn’t have enough time to react once you registered what was about to happen. 

You shut your eyes, bracing for impact, as a startled gasp tumbles off your lips. But the impact doesn’t come when you expect it as a strong set of hands pulls you out of the path of the scooter. The man on the scooter continues on, zipping down the sidewalk without so much as an apology as you stumble back, straight into the arms of the person that just saved you from being paddock road kill. The body is warm, muscled and the set of hands go straight to your hips, steadying you when you fight to maintain your balance. 

“Oh my god!” Hannah shrieks as you struggle out of the person’s embrace, spinning around to see who you had just collapsed into. 

“Jesus Christ, thank…” The words die in the back of your throat when you see the papaya and black race suit of your savior. 

“You.” The British accent that you’d spent the last few weeks trying to forget sends shivers down your spine. 

Shit. 

“Oh. Hi, Lando.” You say sheepishly, lifting your sunglasses off your face so you can make eye contact with the driver. 

“Oh hi Lando?” Hannah sputters, clearly confused. “Do you two know each other?” 

“No.” You reply at the same time Lando says “Yes.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to figure out if it would be bad for your reputation if you punched him. Hannah’s eyes bounce back and forth between you and Lando, who is standing there looking just as confused as she is. If you’re not mistaken, there’s also a touch of hurt that flickers in his eyes as he looks you up and down. 

“Are you okay?” Lando asks, breaking the tension. 

Your eyes dip to your waist, where Lando’s hand still rests heavily on your hip. When he notices he’s still holding you, he pulls his arm back quickly, running it through his curls trying to look casual while his brows dip together, confusion still clearly settled on his handsome features. 

“Um. Yeah, I am. Thank you, I was almost roadkill.” You laugh, but it comes out too shaky to be taken seriously. 

Hannah crosses her arms over her chest, eyes narrowed as she tries to figure out the weird tension that has settled over the two of you. 

“So, ‘yes' you two know each other but ‘no’ you don’t?” Hannah raises an eyebrow, clearly not willing to let this go. 

You shoot Lando a look that could curdle milk. “It’s…complicated.” You mumble, avoiding Hannah’s gaze. 

“Complicated how?” Hanna presses, her curiosity piqued. 

Lando shits his weight, a nervous energy radiating off of him. “We were talking for a bit.”

“Talking? Like, flirting talking?” Hannah turns to you and you swear you see a bit of hurt in her eyes. “And you didn’t tell me?” 

Guilt washes over you. You hadn’t really meant not to tell your friend, it just had never come up. “It was nothing.” You say quickly. Out of the corner of your eye you see Lando wince and your heart catches. “Just some DMs, it fizzled out after a while.” 

“Fizzled out?” Lando scoffs, his frown deepening. “You ghosted me.” 

“I’m sure you had your hands full with that other blonde to miss me that much, Lan.” You bite back, voice sharp. 

Lando’s brows furrow, “Other bl…" He pauses, the dots seemingly connecting in hsi mind suddenly. "You mean Allie? What does she have to do with you and me?” 

“Oh, I don’t know.” You say with a shrug. “You looked pretty busy with her in Monaco before the season started. I just assumed you didn’t have time for me.” You try your best to sound as nonchalant as possible but you can’t keep the anger from slipping into your voice. The fact that he has a cute little nickname for her burrows under your skin more than it should.

Deep down you know you had zero claim over him, so being this angry feels over the top. You know you’re overreacting. You had never even met Lando in person before this moment, so why was the jealousy burning through your bloodstream so intense? 

Hannah’s eyes dart between you and Lando, her expression a mix of confusion something else you couldn’t place. “Okay, so this is a bit more intense than I expected.” She raises her hands in surrender. “You know what? I think I’m going to go check on Liam. He’s probably wondering where I am.” 

She gives you a knowing look, a look that says ‘I’ll let you sort this out but I expect a full rundown of what the fuck just happened here later tonight.’.

“Maybe you two should talk, alone. Just try not to kill each other.” 

With that, Hannah turns on her heel and disappears towards the Red Bull garages, leaving you and Lando standing awkwardly in the middle of the bustling paddock. The noise of the crowd presses in on you, amping up your already high anxiety and filling the silence that stretches between you. 

Lando looks at you, his expression a mixture of confusion and frustration. He digs his hands deep into his pockets, unsure of where to go from here. The absolute last person he’d expected to see here today was you. Finding out you were mad at him just when he had made the decision that you wanted nothing to do with him and he needed to move on was a little overwhelming. He’d been hurt when you’d stopped returning his messages and answering his calls. Frustrated that you hadn’t given him an answer when he asked you what was wrong. And then the season had started and he couldn't handle it all. It still ate at him at night, the fact that he had allowed you to slip out of his fingers, especially since firing Rich and ending things with Allie.

So maybe this was the universe giving him a second chance.

“So,” He starts, voice low. “We’re just going to pretend like nothing happened?” 

You throw your arms out to your side, exasperated sigh falling from your lips. “What was I supposed to think, Lando? I open up my Instagram one morning to see a shit ton of pap photos of you and her, the day after you and I spent almost five hours on FaceTime together!” 

Lando cards his fingers through his curls, “I can explain that.” 

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m sure you can.”  

Deep in Lando’s pocket, his phone chimes. Reluctantly he pulls it out, checking the new text message from Sophie, his press officer. “Fuck. I’ve got to go get in the car.” He sighs, scrubbing his large hand over his face. “Listen, can you please give me a chance to explain?” 

You cross your arms over your chest, mirroring Hannah’s stance from just minutes before. Your first instinct is to tell him to fuck all the way off, you’ve been too careful with your reputation to be drug into any sort of drama that that girl seems to bring. Lando gives you a look though, his green blue eyes pleading with you and you’re all but powerless against it. 

“Come on.” He coaxes, reaching out to brush his fingertips against your bare arm. You ignore the riot of goosebumps he leaves in his wake. “You’re going to look at me and tell me you didn’t come all the way to China, to a place where you knew I would absolutely be, not hoping to at least run into me?” 

“Bold of you to assume that you even cross my mind anymore, Norris.” You snip back but your words hold no bite to them and you both know it. 

Now it’s Lando’s turn to roll his eyes. “Come on, baby.” Your traitorous heart stammers but you mange an indignant look as a reaction to the nickname. “I’m done with race stuff around dinner time, let me take you out somewhere nice and we can talk. Please?” 

Again with the puppy eyes. This was going to be a problem. 

“Fine.” You huff after a moment. “But don’t make me regret this, Lan.” 

The biggest smile you’ve ever seen crosses Lando’s face at your agreement. He reaches out, catching your waist in his hands, pulling you in for a hug. Neither of you notice the cameras pointed in your direction. 

“You won’t. I promise.” He murmurs in your ear before dropping a chaste kiss on your cheek. 

You don’t wipe if off. 

Grinning like a fool, Lando spins on his heel before bustling off towards the McLaren garages. He’s about 30 feet away when his head swivels back, his gaze instantly finding yours. He grins again, liking that you’d been watching him go. 

yourusername posted

602,928 likes liked by lando, hannahstjohn, redbullracing, and others yourusername Boston >>> Shanghai LETS GO hannahstjohn pretty girl! so glad you made the trip with meeeee user0029 my fave influencer and my fave sport?! YES PLEASE user928 i wish these brands would stop inviting random influencers to races and get some REAL FANS there instead >>>user9299 she's there with hannah, liam's girlfriend. just say you're jealous next time. user0299 ok but i need to know...is she a mclaren girlie or red bull??? >>>user454 she gives me ferrari vibes user223 lando in the likes again, huhhhhhh

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[kissingmilfs]

˚☽˚.⋆ 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆’𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 | 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂

18+ minors please dni. this is all purely fictional and no i do not condone cheating.

content warnings: cheating, douchebag boyfriend, fingering, masturbation, slight internalized homophobia (addressed more in later parts)

pt ii

˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ you met sevika at a night out with all your friends at a nightclub you had no business being at. you and your boyfriend were on another “break.” break entailing he says something really mean to you and you storm out and crash with someone until he apologizes.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ you were leaned against the bar, looking rather bored and out of place when sevika approached. she did not necessarily come up to talk to you but you happened to have the only open seat left. and when she approached you cautiously stepped back and she quickly extended her prosthetic arm around your waist to keep you from colliding with the bar stool.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sevika didn’t even end up sitting in the stool. after her chivalry you insisted on buying her drink then leaving her alone. but now sevika was intrigued. you didn’t look like you came here often. she knew you didn’t. this was sevika’s favorite nightclub for a reason. mainly populated with lesbians; single, taken and everything between.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ you were nothing of the sort. least not at first glance sevika thought. you wore a mini skirt and far too tight crop top. it looked like you were wearing someone else’s clothes. (you were).

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sevika did accept your drink. then she easily coaxed you into shots. it only took one time asking and sevika calling you, doll, for you to oblige. then one shot turned to three.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ then she was unexpectedly sweet. sevika made you drink a whole glass of water and ordered a plate of fries for you. you had insisted sevika have some between bites but she just shrugged and said she ate already.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ somehow you both found yourselves on the dance floor. both your arms draped over sevika’s shoulder and bodies pressed firmly together as you sensually danced against her. you hadn’t felt so free in ages. and when you felt sevika’s hand on your ass—you hadn’t flinched or protested.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ next thing you knew—sevika had you atop the bathroom sink with your lacy thong pooled around your ankles and two fingers deep within you. and she made these filthy animalistic noises in your ear. her hips thrusted with each stroke of her fingers. your head was tipped back against the mirror and you swore you saw heaven in that bathroom.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ you never told anyone about what happened that night or where you ended up. your friends hadn’t bothered asking which you assumed they either knew and didn’t care. or they figured you were a wallflower most of the night.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ you, like always, returned to your boyfriend. you spent two more nights with your friend then he came knocking on their door with a large bouquet of flowers and a puppy dog look in his eyes. so you forgave him and went home. and when he uncoordinatedly jerked off inside of you and grunted in your ear — you found yourself imagining it was sevika.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sevika hadn’t forgotten about you or that night either. she couldn’t. not when she took your pink thong in her back pocket. not when she rubbed herself with it almost every night while she held. she couldn’t get the noises of your mewls, or pathetic attempts to quiet down out of her head. if she thought hard enough—she could still feel how unbelievably wet and warm you were on her fingers.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sevika went back to the club every night in hopes you’d show up. she fucked some random girl in the alley the first night looking for you but was so disgusted with herself—she threw up after the girl went back inside.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ on the second week of looking for you—sevika stumbled in line for street tacos and somehow saw you. you were there. with…a man? with his arm around your shoulder. and whispering in your ear. but the look on your face was distant and glazed over. and not in a good way.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ something had told you to look up. it gnawed at the front of your head. when you lifted your eyes finally—you immediately locked eyes with those intense grey eyes.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ you had made up some excuse to leave the table which your boyfriend didn’t even second guess. sevika cornered you behind the food truck—somehow towering over you more than she had that night. and when you opened your mouth to explain sevika simply didn’t care. you could’ve had two kids with a husband and she wouldn’t have cared.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ her lips swallow any explanation and pour out the two weeks of searching and missing you. sevika tasted like tobacco and whiskey. you tasted like salsa verde and pineapple jaritos. she knew you missed her too because you whimpered into the kiss and immediately latched your arms around her neck.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sevika left that night with your number and three of each taco on the menu.

[shinig6mis]

part one

the music was loud. bass-heavy beats rattled the walls, drowning out drunken conversations and the occasional, ear-splitting whoo! from someone who’d had one too many shots. the house was packed, every square inch filled with people who weren’t you.

and yet, katsuki saw only you.

leaning against the kitchen counter, drink in hand, your head tilted back as you laughed at something some random asshole said. katsuki barely registered the guy’s face. all he saw was the way your smile stretched wide, the way your hand rested lightly on the counter, the way you weren’t paying attention to him.

his grip on his own cup tightened.

eijiro had ditched him ages ago, somewhere between his third beer and his “dude, i gotta check on my little sister.” which meant you were supposed to be under watch. which meant you shouldn’t be standing here, giggling at some nobody like you didn’t have a six-foot, red-haired menace for a brother who was ready to kick some ass.

“off limits, dude.”

bullshit.

katsuki wasn’t the type to step in unless absolutely necessary. but this? this was necessary.

he stormed over, his presence sucking the air from the room the second he got close. the guy talking to you faltered mid-sentence, side-eyeing katsuki like he’d just realized he’d been trespassing.

“oh—uh... hey, man, what’s up?”

“scram.”

the guy blinked.

“what?”

katsuki took another step forward, eyes glinting under the dim, neon glow of the kitchen lights.

“you deaf? i said scram.”

he didn’t have to say it twice.

you rolled your eyes as your partner scurried off, not wanting to test his luck against bakugou katsuki.

“really?” you sighed, crossing your arms. “was that necessary?”

“you tell me,” katsuki muttered, his eyes flicking over you, lingering on your lips that have stopped smiling.

you looked too damn good tonight. soft, glowing skin, a dress that hugged your curves, hair falling over your shoulders like you were some kind of problem sent to ruin him.

his jaw clenched.

“he was totally harmless,” you continued, sipping your drink. “not that it’s any of your business.”

his business?

katsuki narrowed his eyes, stepping closer, close enough that you had to tilt your chin up to keep eye contact.

“the hell it ain’t,” he muttered.

he expected you to shove him, roll your eyes, call him dramatic. instead, you just looked at him like you were finally seeing the way his fists clenched at his sides. the way his breath hitched when you leaned in, just slightly, your voice dropping to something sweeter.

“oh?” you tilted your head, lips curving mischievously. “then what is it to you, katsuki?”

fuck.

there always seemed to be something so dangerous about having his name on your lips. it made his head spin and something hot and restless coil in his stomach.

this was bad.

he exhaled, forcing his gaze away, forcing himself to move before he did something stupid.

like kiss you.

“eijiro’s looking for you,” he muttered, turning on his heel. “get your ass back to him before he starts losing his shit.”

he didn’t wait for your reaction. didn’t stick around to see the way your brows furrowed or how you chewed on your lip like you were holding something back.

he just walked away with his fists clenched yet again.

off limits, my ass.

© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.