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street-smarts00 · 8 months ago

Text

in omnia paratus

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

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

WC: 3.5 k

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you know how old she is?”

“No, how old is she?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Three years,” Penelope answered

“What? Did she join right after college?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” he guiltily admitted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, until your last case.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I promise.”

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

“Alright, we can agree to those terms.”

“Oh and agent Rossi?” Mark perked.

“Yes?”

“Send in a girl.”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll do it.”

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

“Reid-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He just needed to get to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My head hurts,” you mumbled.

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

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

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

“Stay with me sweetheart,” he consoled.

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

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

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

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

He was wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he smiled back.

“How are you feeling?”

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

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

“Fun,” you said sarcastically.

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

There is no casual way.

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

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What?”

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

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

He wasn’t aware you heard it.

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

“Why?” you asked curiously.

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

“It just … felt right.”

“Oh,” you replied quietly.

Spencer tensed up at your response.

“If I crossed the line-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He licked his lips, his nervous unconscious habit.

“I was really worried about you.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” he interjected.

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

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

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

“Reid-”

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

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

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

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

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

“But if-“

“Spencer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The silence was deafening, plaguing him.

“Please … say something,” he begged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, feeling better?” she asked hesitantly.

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

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

She raised and shook the jello container in her hand.

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

“Thanks Blake,” you thanked as she left.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re an amazing profiler.”

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

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

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

“in omnia paratus” - ready for anything

Tag asks: @adrienneleclerc @ladybirdbeetle7

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

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whoevenisjavier · 5 days ago

Text

sugar coated, lies unfolded

pairing: CEO harry castillo x exec. assistant f! reader

summary: you try to stay away, to do the right thing, but somehow, you end up back in your boss’ bed... well, your boss and his wife’s bed.

part 1 here

tags/warning: +18, mdni. f! reader. harry castillo is 48 and married. reader is 25 and has a boyfriend. age gap. cheating. f!reader. partners dissing. oral sex (f! receiving). unprotected piv. anal fingering. she does stuff to him while his wife is on the phone i’m sorry.

w/c: 10k

Someone is talking about the ripple effects of the Forbes cover on New York’s business scene, explaining how the new feature on Harry Castillo will influence decisions made by investors and agents, especially now that Castillo & Co. is expanding operations in Asia.

“It’s an unbelievable feat to be on the cover of Forbes twice in just twenty months,” the public relations manager is saying.

You jot down the word unbelievable on your iPad before the rest of the sentence drowns in flashbacks from the night before, flooding your brain like quicksand made of memories, tastes, and touches.

You shift in your chair, wishing you were anywhere but a conference room at eight-thirty in the morning, and your gaze, though fixed on your tablet screen, starts to blur around the edges.

Between your legs is tender, deliciously sore in all the right ways after being claimed by the thick length of Harry until almost two in the morning, when he finally dropped you off at home.

You didn’t even make it to the bed in his Lenox Hill apartment. You had sex on the white oak floor in the living room, on top of a blanket, desperate, and everything on you is sensitive today.

You slept with your boss. You actually slept with your boss.

God. Harry has such a filthy mouth.

Someone calls your name.

“Do you think he’d want that?”

Your eyes meet those of Harry’s personal PR manager, who has one brow raised. You like her. She’s sharp and direct and doesn’t have time to waste, a trait that’s written all over the look she’s giving you now.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” you admit. “What was the question?”

An impatient sigh.

“I asked if you think Harry would want to talk about his career journey.”

“No,” you say immediately. “He covered that in the last interview, and he’ll kill someone if he has to answer the same questions again.”

The intern to your left scrambles to erase something from her own iPad.

When you leave the meeting, it’s settled that Harry’s next interview will be with Forbes, set to be edited and published on a rush schedule. Now you need to inform him, schedule the interview, send ten thousand emails.

You press the elevator button and wait. When the doors finally open on your floor—Media, Marketing, and Advertising—there are three people inside, and your boss is one of them.

Your first instinct is to stay put, but one of the men is holding the door open for you, and Harry is looking at you with an unreadable expression. Everyone knows the two of you get along well, so you can’t exactly not step in.

“Good morning,” you say as you enter, greeted politely by the other two men. You stop beside Harry, both of you facing forward, side by side. “Good morning, Harry.”

“Morning.”

His tone is polite and to the point, as it always is when other people are around.

The doors close. The elevator screen shows stops on the fifth and seventh floors before heading to the fifteenth, where Harry’s office is. Background music resumes while you focus on breathing mechanically, because even that feels too tense right now.

Is he thinking about how he practically begged to come inside you twice?

The elevator stops. One of the men steps out, exchanging good mornings.

At some point last night, he brought up your boyfriend while he was still inside you, and you wanted to kill him for it, because your body was torn between being turned on by the wrongness of it all and feeling sorry for your partner, who was probably asleep at that hour, completely unaware of how his name was being dragged through the situation. But then the irrational possessiveness bug bit Harry and he made you admit your boyfriend didn’t fuck you nearly as well.

The elevator stops again. The last person exits, leaving just you and Harry in the confined space. The music starts up again.

Harry speaks first.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks quietly, still looking ahead.

“What do…” you start to say, then remember how, toward the end of the night, you told him you were so sensitive between your legs, something Harry then soothed with his own tongue. “No, you didn’t hurt me.”

“You complained.”

“I made an observation,” you clarify. “Because it’s true. You and my boyfriend are different. And with you, it was hours.”

He says nothing.

“We said we wouldn’t talk about this at work,” you remind him. “Last night didn’t happen.”

The doors open on your floor, and Harry, without addressing your last comment, holds them open for you to exit first. You both begin walking to your respective places — your desk, his office — and you slip back into your executive assistant persona. The one who doesn’t know what his sweaty skin smells like, how his kiss tastes, or the sound of that deep groan when whispered into your ear.

“I need to talk to you about the Forbes interview,” you call after him. “Can we schedule a meeting at three?”

“Yes. Put it on the calendar, please,” he says without slowing down or looking back.

He enters his office and shuts the door behind him, which means: do not disturb.

So you don’t.

You and Harry are good actors. That you gotta admit.

For the next three weeks, nothing happens. He’s your boss, you’re his assistant, and that’s the only dynamic that exists between you. The world keeps spinning. And you don’t get fired, which was a very real possibility in the mental report you filed the morning after that night.

You start arriving earlier so you don’t have to stay late, which means you don’t have to be alone with him. Harry stops sending cryptic messages about his meetings. He also stops emerging from his office when you walk in wearing the red dress he once said he loved.

Three weeks later, on a Friday at four p.m., Harry steps out of his office and walks over to your desk.

You look up from the Excel spreadsheet where you’re logging his personal expenses and ask politely,

“Can I help you, Harry?”

“Are you going to the cocktail party?”

He’s talking about the Castillo & Co. event tomorrow night, celebrating the release of the Forbes issue featuring his new interview.

“Yes, of course. Do you need something?”

“I need you to come with me to the tailor and take the suit to my apartment. I’ve got something at six, won’t have time to go back to my house.”

“Okay. Now?”

“Now.”

You nod, like the good assistant you are, and save the file before shutting down your computer.

In silence, you both head down to the parking garage and slide into the back seat of Harry’s car. His driver is already behind the wheel. Harry immediately crosses one leg over the other, foot bouncing, and pulls out his phone. You turn toward the window as the car leaves the underground lot.

This is the first time you two are in a car together after that night, that had felt so different.

Harry had dismissed the driver, so he was the one behind the wheel. The silence back then was heavy with anticipation, tension, and the electric certainty that something was going to happen. When he stopped at a red light, he leaned across the console to kiss you and slid a hand under your skirt, pressing against you through your underwear in a way that made you feel completely, undeniably his.

You squeeze your thighs together and close your eyes, steadying your breath.

The moment shatters with the sound of your phone. You glance down and see “baby” on the screen — your boyfriend. You’d asked him to call to plan dinner.

Shit. Perfect timing.

“Hey, babe,” you say softly. In your peripheral vision, you catch Harry’s foot stilling. Your boyfriend is cheerful, loud enough that Harry can probably hear every word. He asks if you’re still at the office. “No, I’m heading to the tailor with Harry, then I’ll go straight to your place. Is that okay?”

He says it is. Says he bought a special bottle of wine because the pink label reminded him of you—your favorite color—and the ache in your chest tightens.

“You’re so sweet to me,” you say, and maybe it’s just in your head, but your voice sounds too guilty. He tells you that you deserve it. You don’t know what to say, so you ask, “Do you want me to pick anything up for dinner?”

He says no. Says he just wants one thing from you. You lower your voice.

“What do you want?”

The car is dead silent. Your phone volume is up too high when he says, “I want you on the kitchen counter, wearing nothing but your panties, while I cook.” That’s your assignment, he adds.

You let out an awkward little laugh, praying Harry didn’t catch it.

“Deal,” you say. “See you tonight.”

When you hang up, Harry isn’t on his phone anymore. He’s just staring out the window, unreadable.

You arrive at the tailor and the driver opens your door. Harry joins you on the sidewalk and, for the first time in nearly a month, places a guiding hand at the base of your back as you walk inside. He used to do that all the time, but apparently that kind of touch was banned after what happened between you.

The receptionist greets you and leads you to one of the private fitting rooms. Three of the walls are mirrors and two velvet couches sit in the corner. There’s a tray with water and candied orange peels, and, In the center of it all, is the raised circular platform where Harry usually stands during fittings.

She shows him the suit, neatly arranged on two hangers, and tells him to try it on. Then she leaves, shutting the door behind her.

You head straight for one of the couches, which makes Harry’s hand fall away from your back.

“Want me to wait outside?” you ask, out of habit, as you sit down. You’ve done this a dozen times.

“Nothing you haven’t seen,” he says, pulling off his shoes.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

Off comes the blazer, placed on the rack. Then the watch and the cufflinks are dropped into the tray. Then come the buttons—first the sleeves, then the collar, all the way down…

You clear your throat and open your phone, responding to emails, not looking at him.

“So your boyfriend cooks for you,” Harry says casually.

And just like that, you know he heard everything.

Half his chest is exposed. He’s not even looking at you as he untucks his shirt and slides it off, standing shirtless in front of you, wearing only slacks.

“Yeah, he likes to cook.”

“Is it a special occasion?”

“Does it have to be?” you counter, eyes glued to your screen.

“Just asking.”

He unbuttons his pants, and you lock your gaze on your phone.

“Anniversary,” you finally say, which makes you realize that you’ll need new lingerie for tonight.

“What if he proposes again? Will you say yes?”

“Harry,” you say firmly, lifting your gaze now that he’s put on the dress pants. “That’s none of your business. You pay me to manage your life, but that doesn’t mean you get to know everything about mine.”

“I love how passive-aggressive you get when I bring up your relationship. You hate it.”

“I don’t hate my boyfriend.”

“I didn’t say you hate your boyfriend. I said you hate your relationship.”

He starts buttoning the newly fitted shirt, and his tone is so maddeningly casual you feel heat rising in your chest.

“You just want me to hate my relationship so you can feel a little better,” you say, holding your fingers up, barely apart, “just this much better, about the fact that you hate yours too.”

“I don’t need to feel better about it. I know the truth. If we didn’t hate our relationships, we wouldn’t have had sex.”

“We agreed not to talk about it.”

“Oh, that again. Has it helped? Not talking about it has made you think about it any less?”

You lock your phone and set it aside. Adjust yourself on the couch and look directly at him. Your voice stays quiet, but sharp.

“Of course not, but what do you want me to do? I’m in a relationship, you’re married, we have lives, and I need my job. And even if I do think about that night, I can’t do anything about it. So yeah, it’s better to pretend.”

“So you do think about it.”

“If that’s what strokes your ego, then fine, yes. I think about it. There hasn’t been a single damn day since that night that I haven’t remembered it. It haunts me.”

Harry finishes buttoning his shirt, tucks it in, then slips on the blazer. The suit fits like a glove. Every seam perfect, every line flattering.

“I told you I had morals,” Harry says quietly after a beat. “But I put them aside for you. And now, here I am, with none, asking you to keep going.”

Your heart stumbles.

“Keep going what?”

“What started that night in my office. I’m not going to ask you to break up with your boyfriend, and I won’t promise I’ll divorce my wife. I can sign a five-year job security agreement if that’s what it takes to make you feel safe. But I want you.”

“This won’t work.”

“Do you want it?”

What a stupid question. You nearly die a little every day from how much you want him.

But your answer never comes, because the tailor opens the door and walks in, greeting Harry cheerfully.

And now you can’t stop thinking

You think about it as you head to Harry’s apartment to drop off his suit, ignoring the pair of gold hoops on the entryway table that make it painfully obvious he’s a married man. You think about it later, when you go to your boyfriend’s place and undress for him. And even later, in the shower, when you notice the mark he left near your breast while you were having sex.

This has absolutely no chance of ending well, and you’ve never been the kind of person who lets irrational impulses get in the way of your career. But for the first time… you’re tempted.

And the worst part? You can’t tell anyone. Maybe your therapist, but she’ll just say again how unhealthy this dynamic is, and you don’t want to hear that. And you don’t trust her that much with this kind of secret.

You think about it as you get ready for Harry’s cocktail party, aching to see him and hoping for permission to touch him.

Your boyfriend approaches, eyes wide when he sees you in the strapless red gown, and lets out a whistle.

“Are you sure I’m even allowed to be seen with you tonight?” he teases, wrapping his arms around you from behind and kissing your neck. “You look gorgeous. Stunning dress.”

“Harry gave it to me. Well, he gave me the money and his personal shopper bought it,” you say, because there’s no way you could afford a Schiaparelli, and your boyfriend is used to hearing about the things Harry buys you whenever there’s an event.

All so you look presentable as Harry Castillo’s executive assistant, of course.

“Of course he did,” your boyfriend says, rolling his eyes. “Ready?”

When you arrive at Castillo & Co.’s event hall, hand in hand with your boyfriend, you realize that, no, you’re not ready. The decor is tasteful and elegant in shades of fawn, black, and ice white and everyone is in black-tie. At the back of the room, a digital display showcases the Forbes cover. Harry looks amazing in the photo, completely fitting for the role he holds, but the headline reads: From Concrete to the Top of the World.

He must’ve hated that.

“Do we have fancy whiskey?” your boyfriend asks as you start to cross the room. “And shrimp cocktail?”

The questions are rhetorical. Before you can answer, he plants a loud kiss on your lips and heads off toward the food tables. You watch him walk away, wishing he stayed with you, but then a waiter offers you a glass of champagne and you accept. You walk toward the edge of the room, and sip while scanning the space.

People are gathered in polished little clusters, all impeccably dressed and beaming. But there’s a larger group crowded around one person, and the reason is Harry, who’s speaking with ease and commanding the social scene with effortless charm, looking absolutely delicious in a tux.

Your view is partially blocked when his wife appears beside him, placing a hand on his forearm, looking radiant in a white off-shoulder draped gown. Without stopping his sentence or glancing her way, Harry slips an arm around her waist.

She seems to glow under his touch. You understand the feeling, despite the hundred-pound weight settling in your stomach.

How ridiculous, to feel jealous of the wife. You are the wrong one, not her. And how twisted is it that, beneath the jealousy, there’s a flicker of satisfaction because Harry wants you, not just her?

Harry laughs at something one of the men says. He scans the room briefly, and that’s when he sees you. Your stomach twists, and nearly melts, when his eyes sweep over you from head to toe, so subtly that no one else would notice.

Smoothly, he turns back to the conversation, as if his attention had never strayed.

Your own attention is pulled back by your boyfriend returning.

“There’s so much food,” he says, his excitement making you laugh. He laughs too, but insists, “Seriously. It’s insane. Have you eaten?”

You shake your head, and he grabs your hand, guiding you toward the buffet tables. There are a million options, and you let yourself get distracted by them so you don’t start looking for Harry, which doesn’t work, because ten minutes later, he’s the one who finds you.

His wife is with him.

“Darling,” she says, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “That dress is stunning. It’s Schiaparelli, isn’t it?”

“It is,” you reply, and she keeps looking at you like she’s waiting for an explanation. You add, “A loan from Harry, so I wouldn’t embarrass him.”

“It’s not a loan. It’s yours,” Harry says, leaning in to greet you with a kiss on the cheek. His smell, what the fuck. He extends a hand to your boyfriend. “So you’re the boyfriend.”

“So you’re the boss,” your boyfriend jokes as they shake hands. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Castillo.”

“Likewise,” Harry says, though the tone is anything but warm. Then to you: “My PR rep asked for a few photos of us. Can you do that now?”

“Sure,” you reply, accepting his offered arm.

Harry kisses his wife lightly and says he’ll be right back. You do the same with your boyfriend. Together, you walk toward the PR team, and once you’re far enough from the crowd, Harry speaks, eyes still forward.

“Have you thought about it?”

“Do I have a deadline?”

“So you’re considering it.”

That shuts you up. Yes, you are considering it.

“If we were to do this,” you murmur to Harry, smiling politely at one of his business partners entering your field of vision, who’s always courteous to you, “I’d want that job security agreement.”

“I’ll call my lawyer right now and have him draft the contract.”

The conversation pauses as you reach Harry’s publicist—a tall man who always wears eccentric suits, whether because of the patterns or the bold colors. Tonight, he’s in blood-red with round glasses and greets you with a giant smile.

“Stunning,” he says, kissing both of your cheeks. “What an honor for Harry to be seen with such a beautiful woman.”

You shoot him a look.

“Besides Mrs. Castillo, of course!” he adds quickly, and you decide not to check your boss’s face. “Shall we?”

You and Harry pose in front of a wide LED panel bearing the Castillo Construction & Co. logo. He places a hand on your waist without a hint of a smile, and you fall into your executive posture: back straight, polite, demure smile.

Photos are taken with instructions from both the photographer and the publicist. When it’s over, but before you and Harry can step apart, he leans in, under the guise of a polite hug, and whispers in your ear:

“She’s traveling for work tonight. If the answer is yes, you know where I live.”

Then he disappears into the sea of people who can’t wait to be near him.

By sheer luck, you don’t see Harry again during the next two hours you remain at the cocktail party. Your boyfriend indulges in the expensive whiskey, and you sip two more glasses of champagne, but there’s an anticipation humming beneath everything you do, like something is lurking.

Like the night won’t end at your home, in your bed, with your boyfriend.

You leave around nine, and you practically have to guide your boyfriend into the Uber waiting at the curb. He’s nearly unconscious on the ride back to his apartment, just awake enough to walk on his own. You help him inside, stay with him while he showers, and then watch over him as he collapses into bed.

A glass of water and two aspirins on the nightstand. A kiss on the forehead. And then he’s snoring, totally out.

You close the door gently behind you and, leaning your back against it, pick up your phone.

You open your chat with Harry. The last message is a simple “ok” you sent after he asked to reschedule a meeting.

There’s no telling how long you stand there, staring at the screen and imagining a thousand different scenarios, but when you finally type something, it’s:

“Let the front desk know I’m cleared to come up.”

Because even though your name is on the list of people with access to his apartment, the building has strict policies about non-residents after 8 p.m.

Harry replies ten minutes later:

“Done.”

The doorman, an older gentleman who’s always polite, greets you as always: with a gentle tone, a compliment (this time about your dress), and a polite question about whether Harry’s being a decent boss. But you catch the slight wrinkle between his brows, the subtle confusion in his smile. It says: What the hell are you doing here at this hour?

You see the same look from the security guards, and from the person at the front desk. But you lift your chin, square your shoulders, and pretend your reason for being here is purely professional.

You build a whole story in your mind as you walk across the marble lobby, your heels clicking with each step, just to make it easier to face. Harry needs a report for Monday morning, and he’s paying you overtime for it, but the source documents are physical, and he can’t scan them.

He took them home because he planned to work on them tonight, but the cocktail party took over his evening.

You step into the elevator and enter the code for Harry’s apartment.

And he remembered the report at the event, of course he did, because the partner he’s meeting on Monday mentioned looking forward to the negotiations. So you, ever the good employee, offered to stop by and grab the documents.

The elevator doors close, taking you toward the penthouse duplex, and you shut your eyes, erasing the fake narrative.

Now, it’s just you and your conscience.

There’s no report. No meeting. No overtime. Now it’s just Harry and you, both willingly choosing to do this and hurt your partners in exchange for nothing more than physical satisfaction.

The doors open into the private foyer of the penthouse, warmly lit and lined with framed art. Harry is standing in the doorway of the apartment, barefoot, blazer gone, bowtie undone and hanging loose at his collar.

You take one step forward, leaving the elevator.

“How was the rest of the party?” you ask, trying to sound casual through your nerves.

“Good. They liked the feature.”

You stop a few feet away, feeling his eyes on you. You twist your clutch in your hands.

“We left early because she had to catch the flight,” Harry adds, answering the question you hadn’t asked. “Want to come in? I think I still have some champagne.”

You nod, agreeing, and step inside as Harry closes the door behind you. The long hallway leading into the living room, all decorated in earth tones and golden light, greets you like a witness.

“There are some things I’m assuming based on the fact that you’re here,” Harry says behind you. You turn to face him. “But obviously, I need you to say it.”

“I don’t know if I can say it out loud.”

He watches you for a beat, reading your face.

“Morals?”

“It’s called having a heart.”

He smiles, and it’s far too sensual for the subject at hand.

“Speaking of hearts… what excuse did you give your boyfriend?”

He walks past you, heading down the hallway, and you follow. The two of you move into the living room, and you settle onto the couch, watching as Harry disappears for a few seconds and reemerges with an unopened bottle of Bollinger and two flutes in his hands. He sits beside you, and within moments, the bottle is open and champagne is flowing into both glasses.

You slip off your heels. Harry tosses his bow tie onto the coffee table. And only after you’ve taken your first sip of champagne do you finally answer.

“I didn’t need an excuse. He was asleep,” you say, referring to your boyfriend. “I think he had a lot of whiskey.”

“That’s a shame. He could’ve spent the night with you, but he chose to drink,” Harry replies, settling in beside you as he clicks his tongue. “Rookie mistake.”

“You think it’s exciting to sleep with me because it only happened once and it’s forbidden. After three years, he doesn’t think like that anymore.”

“There isn’t a universe where I don’t find having you in my bed exciting.”

That makes you blink slowly at him, then at the ring on his finger, while the champagne tastes suddenly bitter on your tongue.

He notices where your eyes have landed.

“Does it bother you?” he asks, gesturing to the ring.

You don’t even need to think, which probably bumps you up twenty points on the I’m-A-Terrible-Person scale.

“No,” you say, because it’s true. “Did you feel guilty?”

“Tonight?” you nod, and he draws in a long breath. He seems to test a million possible words before landing on: “No. I didn’t. I was angry at your boyfriend, and then I felt like an asshole for that.”

When you don’t respond, Harry throws the question back at you.

“Did you?”

You take another sip of champagne, gaze fixed on the massive TV mounted across from the sofa.

“I wish I had. It would be easier to deal with all this if I felt guilty.”

Harry reaches over and takes a lock of your hair that had fallen over your chest, twirling it around his finger before brushing it over your shoulder. He does the same with the others, gently moving each strand behind you, letting it fall down your back.

Before anything else, he places his glass on the coffee table beside the bottle and settles into the cushions.

“Come here.”

The way he pulls you brings your body into his, with your back partially resting against his chest and your legs tucked beneath you.

“I usually have answers for everything,” Harry says. “But for this? I don’t.”

You tilt your head just enough to hear the rhythmic beat of his heart beneath your ear, and you intertwine your fingers with his. His arm rests over your right shoulder.

“It’s okay… I don’t need comfort. I’m here because I want to be.”

Harry makes a low sound, like agreement, and presses his hand flat against your chest. He can probably feel the same quick heartbeat under his palm.

He changes the subject because that’s the smarter choice.

“You look beautiful in that dress,” he says near your ear, his voice more intimate now, more private. You close your eyes and savor the sound like it’s dessert. “Everyone was looking at you and envying your boyfriend.”

His hand drifts lower, cupping your breast over the smooth silk of your gown, his touch feather-light. Your skin prickles.

“But I’m the one they should envy, right?” Harry keeps whispering. The dress has a slit that’s just wide enough for him to slip his hand underneath and cup your breast. “I was trying to think of a way to make that obvious.”

“That you’re cheating on your wife with me?”

His soft thumb finds your hardened nipple, and a wave of heat rolls between your legs as he circles it.

“That I got what all those wide-eyed bastards wanted.”

“You’re awfully possessive for someone who’s the other man.”

He laughs, and you feel it more than you hear it, the vibration under your cheek against his chest. You smile, and the smile stays as Harry reaches for the small zipper on the side of your dress and slowly, slowly pulls it down.

The fabric loosens with each inch the zipper drops, and you’re the one who slides the top of the dress down to your waist, exposing your breasts. His hands cover them one at a time, squeezing gently, and you push them toward his palms.

Soon, it’s his mouth on your neck, lips parted over your sensitive skin. You have to tighten your grip around the champagne flute just to keep from dropping it as Harry kisses and bites your neck, his beard scraping and tickling in a way that leaves your whole body weak.

“Turn around and kiss me,” he says, taking the glass from your hand and placing it on the coffee table.

When he leans back into the couch again, you kneel on the seat beside him, just like that first night in his office, and meet his mouth. Harry holds your face with both hands but lets you set the pace, following your movements. And you devour it, because you’ve thought about this too much. His kiss, his taste, the way he leads without ever needing to be rough.

Your mouths part wider, undoing all the restraint that’s built up over the last three weeks. Harry slides one hand down to finish unzipping the dress completely and pushes it off your hips, leaving you in nothing but panties.

You’ve barely thrown the dress to the floor before his hand is already inside your underwear, and your knees weaken. He finds the slickness there and mutters a curse under his breath before sitting up straighter to get a better angle as he rubs slow circles over your clit.

The blood is pounding so hard in your ears that you barely register the phone ringing.

Both of you freeze, breaths and hearts racing. You meet Harry’s gaze, seeking some sort of shelter in it, and he looks back at you, lips red, before glancing toward the coffee table.

Before he can move, you kiss him again. Screw the phone. Harry immediately sinks back into the kiss, and the middle finger still inside your panties traces slowly from your clit down to your dripping entrance. It doesn’t take long before he slips it inside, and you swing a leg over his lap, settling into him.

The phone stops ringing.

Harry moves slowly, probably remembering how sensitive you were last time. He takes his time with just one finger, working you open, making you wetter. Your clit is practically throbbing, and he starts to speak—

—but the words are swallowed up by the phone ring again.

“Fuck’s sake,” Harry mutters, clearly annoyed, pulling his hand from your panties and gripping your waist. With you still in his lap, he leans forward and grabs the phone. You feel his whole body tense beneath you when he sees the screen.

“What is it?” you ask.

“My wife,” he says.

You want to be a bitch and tell him not to answer, to hang up, but you can’t. Even though you know he might actually listen if you said it.

“Answer. It could be important.”

Harry squeezes your waist as you try to move off his lap.

“Stay,” he says, and clears his throat before answering. “Hi, darling. Everything okay?”

“Hey, babe. Why didn’t you pick up the first time?”

You can hear her voice clearly because she’s speaking loudly and because of how close the two of you are, but you stay quiet and still, as if moving might somehow make her see you.

The lie rolls off his tongue effortlessly.

“Sorry. I was on a video call with some investors in Japan. I didn’t see the phone ring.”

You keep your eyes on his as your hand reaches the button on his pants. You undo it silently, then ease the zipper down.

Harry doesn’t stop you.

“I’m at the airport,” his wife is saying. “I upgraded to business class, but for some reason they need you to authorize the purchase on your bank app.”

“That’s strange. They’ve never needed confirmation before.”

With the zipper all the way down, you slide your hand into his underwear and pull out his hard cock. Your mouth practically waters.

“I said the same thing!” she laughs. “I think I’m just going to cancel and try using my own card… Not the joint account.”

Harry opens his mouth to answer, but it’s exactly when you lick your hand and wrap it around him. His jaw tightens and his eyes flutter shut. He pulls the phone away from his face to suck in a sharp breath.

“Harry?”

“I can authorize it from here,” he says into the phone, eyes glancing down to follow the motion of your hand. “Up to you.”

“Hmm… no worries, I’ll just use mine.” A pause. “My flight boards in thirty minutes and you know what I can’t stop thinking about?”

“What?”

You remove your hand from his cock only to quietly slip out of your panties. His gaze drops, devouring the space between your legs, and you sit back down on his thigh, not caring in the slightest if you leave a wet mark on his pants.

She says,

“The way you fingered me in the car after the party.”

Your hands freeze. You raise an eyebrow at Harry, and he gives you a small, crooked smile before replying to his wife,

“You liked that?”

“Mhm. Too bad I couldn’t make you come, too.”

You narrow your eyes and squirm with jealousy. You tighten your grip and focus on the swollen tip. Harry tries to stop you, but you challenge him and keep going, watching his expression break. You want her to hear.

“I didn’t need to,” he manages to say. “That was for you.”

Harry moves the phone away completely, whispering a curse just as her voice returns on the other end.

“But I miss sleeping with you.” Her tone is overly sweet, but there’s a hint of real sadness buried beneath it.

The smile that threatens to curl your lips is cruel and selfish, and you don’t dig too deep into what it means. Probably something about how you’re about to have what she wants. Which is awfully childish, you know that.

But part of you feels for her. That’s what you think as you lift yourself onto your knees, placing one over Harry’s thigh to get the angle right, and guide his erection to the slick heat between your legs.

You’d feel that way, too, if you were married to a man like Harry and he didn’t want you.

Harry leans his head back on the couch, avoiding your eyes. He stares at the ceiling, the knuckles of the hand holding the phone pale and strained.

“Sorry. A lot on my mind,” he says, just as you sink down on him.

His chest tightens in a heavy breath. His free hand clutches your hip, his thighs tense beneath you, a vein in his neck practically pulsing. He’s a vision of self-restraint, and you revel in it, grinding down onto him and biting your lip hard enough to nearly break skin just to keep quiet.

“I get it,” she says. “I just wanted you to know.”

“Darling, I need—”

“Promise me we’ll try harder.”

You lean forward as he stretches you, kissing the side of his damp neck while your fingers work on the buttons of his shirt, your tongue tracing the line of that vein. He shudders.

“I promise,” Harry says, his nails digging into your waist as you begin to rock in his lap, moaning against his skin. “I… I really need to go. Have to finish some documents. But text me when you land, okay?”

You don’t even register their goodbye. All you know is that Harry practically throws his phone onto the coffee table.

“Brat,” he mutters against your mouth as he pulls your hair, tugging off his shirt in one fluid motion. “Can’t believe the phone didn’t pick up the sound of this wet pussy.”

“Lucky you,” you say. “So Harry Castillo isn’t fucking his wife? What a shame.”

He tightens his grip around you and stands, pulling a gasp from your mouth as he slips out of you.

“You’re too old to be lifting like that,” you say, even as your thighs wrap around his hips. “Your physical therapist’s gonna be rich.”

“And you still want this old man?”

You nod, and Harry gives a smug little smile. Men are so easy to please.

He carries you through the hallway into the master bedroom. Your wide-eyed gaze meets his a moment before he sets you down on the enormous, messy bed. One glance to the side and you see the open door of his wife’s closet, purses and heels in view, just before Harry flips you onto your stomach and raises your hips.

You brace on your elbows, spine arching.

Two pillows rest at the head of the bed. One nightstand holds a book, a pair of glasses, and a man’s watch. The other has hand cream, a gold bracelet, a bottle of vitamins, and a pink hair clip.

It’s literally the most intimate part of a couple’s life, and this bedroom embodies that, exactly why you used to think, and agree, it was a line not to be crossed. But not for Harry, apparently, who climbs onto the bed behind you and slides into you again.

Your head drops forward, blocking your vision, fingers clutching the sheets as he sinks in fully.

Harry leans over your back, his fingers finding your pulsing clit, stroking in slow circles that make your whole body melt.

“Harry—”

“Come on my cock and I’ll fuck you.”

You writhe beneath him as his fingers move faster, smaller, tighter circles. You roll your hips forward and back in short, needy thrusts, just enough friction to push you toward the edge.

Your mouth dries, eyes squeezing shut as the tension coils in your belly. When Harry switches to horizontal strokes, rubbing directly across your clit, you come so hard it borders on painful, then dissolves into something warm and all-consuming, like being lowered into a hot bath.

“Just like that,” he whispers against your moans, slowing his movements so you can ride out every last wave. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

You nod, even though your ears are still buzzing. You nearly miss the weight of his body when he pulls back, but then one hand presses between your shoulder blades and the other grabs your hip, and he starts to thrust.

It’s almost too much. You’re still sensitive, your clit sparking with each slap of his balls, but it’s so good. You hear his grunts, low and rough, and you spread your knees wider, gripping the sheets. Your eyes land on his wife’s nightstand at the same moment Harry says,

“This what you wanted? Climbing on top of me while I was on the phone? Almost making me lose it?”

You nod. Harry pulls your left leg, then your right, laying you flat. He lies on top of you, keeping your legs tight between his, and thrusts again.

“Say it out loud.”

He kisses your neck, brushing your hair away. Your skin tingles.

“For a second, I wanted her to hear,” you admit, grateful you’re not facing him.

Harry breathes against your temple.

“Yeah?”

��I wanted her to know that what she wants…” You can’t finish before he speeds up, and you have to grit your teeth. With your legs squeezed together, every thrust hits deeper. “You’re giving it to me. And you’re so, so hard for me…”

There. You said it. This time, you break the rule about not talking about the others. And you can’t regret it, not when Harry wraps a hand around your throat, bites your shoulder, and fucks you, the slap of skin clashing with the wet sounds of his cock inside you, again and again, until he growls a curse.

He pulls out and flips you onto your back. Harry climbs over you, stroking himself, eyes roving over your body—your breasts, the space between your thighs. You touch yourself too, unable not to, watching his face tighten as he gets close.

And when he comes, it’s on your belly, whispering your name as the hot ropes of cum cover your skin.

“Open your legs,” he says, voice hoarse and skin sweaty. You fold your knees and spread your thighs. “You’re already close again… Look how you’re throbbing.”

This time it’s the tip of his cock that presses against your swollen clit, massaging it, smearing his cum across your skin as he strokes. His softening head glides over you in slow, steady movements. With his free hand, Harry uses his fingers to open you wider, and when he finds the exact spot again, he presses.

Your next orgasm isn’t as explosive as the first, but just as overwhelming. When it hits, you can’t take anymore. You clamp your legs shut and push his hand away.

He gets it. He lies down beside you, pulls you into his arms, and holds you while you catch your breath.

As your senses return, you notice the only light in the room is coming from the open closet. The bedroom is softly decorated, the sheets far too luxurious to have been chosen by a man, even one like Harry Castillo.

“Why did we have sex in here?” you ask.

“Hm?”

“You must have ten guest rooms in this penthouse. Why this one?”

He stays silent, stroking your back.

“Because doing something wrong turns you on?” you ask, turning to look at him. Harry meets your eyes, saying nothing, and his hand goes still on your ribs. “I get it. I think I got wetter when I realized where you brought me.”

Before he can reply, you ask,

“Will you think of me when you’re here with her?”

“I already do,” he says. “The difference is now I’ll have memories. Not just imagination.”

You lean in to kiss him, and Harry welcomes it.

Even so, the two of you sleep in the guest bedroom, because you don’t want to use her pillow or wrap yourself in the same sheets she does.

Harry takes you to the end of the hallway, into a room that seems like it’s never been used, even though the sheets smell like fabric softener.

The bed is bigger than yours, and after a quick shower, the two of you tangle up together, naked, beneath the covers. It’s the first time you’re actually about to fall asleep with him, and he behaves exactly as you expected: he wraps himself around you, throws a leg over yours, and presses you tightly to his body. You’re surrounded by Harry—in your skin, in your sweat, in the sheets, in the house, in the scent that wraps around you.

And just like that, sleep comes easy.

Maybe it’s the unfamiliar space, or the furnace that is Harry’s body, or the emotional chaos, but you wake up in the middle of the night.

He’s completely asleep, his legs trapping yours, and you try to fall back asleep for a few more minutes, but it doesn’t work. Slowly, you untangle yourself from his body and tiptoe out of the room to get your phone, which you’d left in your bag on the coffee table.

You sit on the couch to check for any unread messages, but the moment makes you feel exposed. The champagne bottle and flutes still sitting there give you a headache. You lower the brightness on your phone and go back to the guest room.

Harry hasn’t moved.

There’s a small loveseat by the window, and you curl up there, turning your phone screen back on. The first unread message is from your boyfriend, sent about an hour ago. He’s thanking you for taking care of him. Says you should’ve stayed at his place so he could wake you up with breakfast.

You deserve it for looking after me, he writes and you let out a humorless laugh, because you definitely don’t deserve anything.

There’s a message from your mom, a photo of her, and a few from your friends who saw your picture with Harry on Forbes’s Instagram. You click the link, and it takes you to the post.

Harry Castillo, CEO of Castillo Construction & Co., and his executive assistant, is the caption.

You both look good. You make a striking image.

Harry’s sleepy voice pulls your attention back.

“Can’t sleep?”

He’s rubbing his eyes, propped up on one elbow to look at you.

“Think it’s just the unfamiliar bed. I can’t fall back asleep.”

“That really all it is?”

You chew on your bottom lip, hugging your knees and resting your chin on them after leaving your phone aside. Even though you’re completely naked, you don’t feel uncomfortable around Harry, which is saying something.

“What now?” you ask instead, feeling sorry for him, seeing as he just woke up and is being struck with this emotional turbulence. “Are we something?”

“That was the proposal.”

“We’re gonna have to get really good at lying. You know that, right? At some point, ‘I need to stay late at the office’ won’t cut it anymore.” A headache pulses at your temples. You laugh. “This is crazy.”

“What is?”

“When I started working at the office, I was obsessed with you. I practically drooled when you walked by, watched all your interviews, melted whenever you talked to me. And then you got married, so I made it a point to find someone, or anyone, to date, just to get you out of my system.”

Harry looks at you in a way you don’t like.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “I’m not some virgin girl doing this because I’m in love. You fuck me well, and I like it. That’s all.”

Harry gets out of bed and grabs a pillow. He walks over to you and, without a word, places it on the floor in front of the chair. Then he kneels, and you fall silent at the sight of Harry Castillo on his knees before you, his hair tousled from sleep.

He lifts your left ankle, holding your leg halfway out to kiss from your ankle to your knee, taking his time. The moonlight from outside casts a soft glow over his profile.

You watch, heart pounding.

“I remember your first day at work,” Harry murmurs, sleep-rough voice breaking the silence as he parts his lips to kiss the inside of your thigh. Your stomach twists with nerves and anticipation. “You were wearing a white dress. Your hair was tied up. And you widened your eyes at everyone who came near, like a damn deer.”

Your own eyes are probably wide now as he rests your right leg on his shoulder, stretching your left again to repeat the same trail of kisses. You grip the edge of the seat.

He remembers what you wore your first day, four years ago.

“You came into my office,” he continues, and lifts your left leg to join the other on his shoulders, his face now nestled between your thighs as he places open-mouthed kisses along your skin. “Asked if I needed help with anything specific, and when I told you to sit beside me so I could show you how to open my encrypted report, you tripped over the edge of the rug. In that exact moment, I wanted you.”

He says the last words right before he opens his mouth over your pussy, the heat of his breath making you arch into the chair and clutch his hair.

He looks up at you, mouth still busy, and God… if you could capture a single moment in a photo, it would be this.

You slide your legs off his shoulders just to grab his face and pull him up so you can kiss him. Harry kisses back eagerly, and there’s nothing tender about the way he licks into your mouth. There’s nothing tender about the way he breaks the kiss either just to place your legs back over his shoulders and bury his face between them again. One hand presses down on your lower belly to keep you in place as his mouth seals around your clit and starts to suck.

You hold his face with both hands, pressing him harder against you, watching him, watching the way his cock hardens just from tasting you.

“So good,” you whisper, your fingers on his jaw. “You have no idea how good it feels to have Harry Castillo on his knees for me.”

He doesn’t pull away, but you swear, if he could, he’d be smiling.

What he does instead is lower his mouth until his tongue is inside you. Your eyes flutter closed. Moans echo in the room, along with the wet sounds of his mouth, and you lose yourself in all of it, until his thumb slides inside you. But just as quickly, it leaves, and instead, glides down.

You open your eyes with a jolt just in time to see Harry sucking your clit while his thumb starts circling your other entrance.

It’s different. Strange. Not unpleasant.

“You’ve done this before?” he asks, likely meaning anal.

You shake your head.

“Well, look at that,” Harry says, overly pleased, rubbing in slow circles. “So, in a way, you’re still a virgin. Can I?”

There are very few things you wouldn’t give Harry if he asked.

“Just the finger. Just one. Slowly.”

“Always, baby.”

And he goes slowly.

He waits until you’re melting under his tongue, licking his thumb before returning it to your tight rim and gently pushing in the tip. It doesn’t hurt—not with just the tip—but it’s unlike anything you’ve done, something you never even tried with your boyfriend, even though he asked.

“Relax for me, sweetheart,” Harry whispers. “Breathe. Let me in.”

You don’t know how much time passes before your breathing calms and something in you releases. You feel safer.

Harry plunges his tongue into your pussy and brings his other thumb to your clit, and you’re surrounded by him in every possible way when, slowly, he slips his lubricated thumb into your ass, pulling a deep moan from your chest. The build-up of sensitivity throughout the night, paired with the newness of it all, crashes into you, and you come in his mouth, pulsing around his fingers in both places.

He doesn’t stop, even when you try to push him away and close your legs. Harry keeps sucking your clit harder, and you shake beneath him, overstimulated. He brings you to the edge again with his mouth and hands, and just as you’re about to fall, he stops and tells you to ride him.

You do, on the floor of the guest room. Apparently, you two have a thing for sex on the floor, because it’s rawer, messier, heavier with tension. You kiss the whole time, grabbing at whatever part of him you can reach, and the two of you come together.

Harry, inside you.

You, wrapped around him.

Hardly a word between you.

The next morning, Harry drives you home in his car, without a driver.

You’re wearing one of his T-shirts over your dress, your hair still wet and your face free of makeup, and you probably look ridiculous. A charitable act from the CEO of CCC.

The good news is that the street is empty. It’s still nine a.m. on a Sunday, so there are fewer witnesses to your disastrous state. A few brave souls pass by in running clothes, others look like they rolled out of bed five seconds ago, forced outside by the physiological needs of the small dogs following on their leashes.

Harry parks in front of your building and turns off the engine.

“Too cliché if I thank you for the night?” he asks, leaning back in his seat.

“I’m not going to thank you for the orgasms, because yes, I think that’s cliché, but” you raise your index finger, watching the smug smile take over his face. “solid performance for a senior citizen. Forbes would love to know about the five orgasms.”

“Six,” he corrects, ignoring the comment about the ‘senior citizen.’ “Two this morning. One in bed and one in the shower.”

Oh, right.

“Six,” you agree. “High performance, Mr. Castillo.”

“Glad you approve,” he says. “I suppose I can’t kiss you here.”

You shake your head.

“Not here.” You exchange one last look, entirely charged. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you.” Harry says, and you force yourself to open the passenger door. You place one foot out of the car, but before you can get out, Harry places his palm on the back of your neck and makes you look at him.

“Thank you for tonight and for accepting my proposal.”

You turn just enough to place a kiss on Harry’s wrist and get out of the car, shutting the door behind you.

When you turn toward your building’s entrance, you find another gaze on you.

That gaze runs over you from head to toe, taking in the clothes from the night before, the wet hair, the bare face, and then shifts to Harry’s Mercedes.

A freezing terror takes hold of your entire body, paralyzing you where you stand.

And then your boyfriend’s cold eyes meet yours.

#harry castillo #harry castillo x reader #harry castillo imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction #god if karma really exists i’m fucked

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todaysbird · 5 months ago

Text

calling mycologists (and those who are Fungally Informed)

i'm writing a piece for Earth Island Journal on how mushrooms can fight climate change, and sadly, I've had a few interviewees dip out on me. I'd love to do short virtual interviews with a few folks who:

have directly studied mushrooms & climate (+1000 bonus points)

have studied only mushrooms, but can answer questions on how mushrooms relate to climate health

work with mushrooms (for food, faux leather, etc) and can speak on how mushrooms are eco-friendly

if you don't see yourself up above, but you think you can help, please do reach out! DM me by 1/9/25 if you are able to complete a short list of questions within the next 2-3 days :) thank you!

#mycology #mushroom #fungi #environment #not birds

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trashytracktales · 2 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/trashytracktales/778028575513280512/hey-babe-i-cant-stop-thinking-about-lando-fucking

a fic like this would probably kill me, just saying...👀

Season opener | LN⁴

🔸️ inspired by this ask

🔸️ summary ──── After securing his first win of the season, Lando can’t wait to celebrate with his girlfriend.

🔸️ pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

🔸️ rating ──── explicit

🔸️ warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, smut, swearing, semi-public setting, desperate!Lando, unprotected sex (against the wall), mild praise kink and possessiveness, overstimulation, interrupted intimacy (oops 👀).

🔸️ word count ──── 2.7k

🔸️ date ──── Mar. 25, 2025

🔸️ a/n ──── Here’s a little quickie to hold you over before I drop a 10k (so far) one-shot later this week. That mf has been living rent-free in my brain for a month now, and if I don’t end up posting it, you guys officially have permission to throw tomatoes at me. Enjoy this while you wait 💋

THERE’S STILL A lot of noise ringing in Lando’s ears, even as he’s dragged from one obligation to the next. The podium was nice, the feeling of being drowned in champagne and cheers always welcome, even though it can get really uncomfortable. It’s been a weekend full of twists and turns that, thankfully, is coming to a happy ending for him. But the real celebration awaits in his driver’s room.

However, it seems like the universe has decided to taunt him some extra today, with the post-race interviews where every question feels like it stretches time longer than naturally possible, and the conference where he has to relive every lap, as if there weren’t thousands of cameras that captured every angle of the race.

A real-life purgatory, that’s what it feels like.

His body is still running hot, adrenaline refusing to settle and, trough it all, there’s only one thought consuming his mind. He’s trying not to think about her, though, or the orange mini dress she picked out weeks ago for the season opener. He even tries not to imagine the curves of her body every time he blinks or to hear her soft voice in his mind, that sweet whimper that makes him more tense with every touch.

Lando grips the back of his neck as he listens to another useless question, his patience wearing thin. He can still feel the weight of her teary eyes on him earlier, the way she had smiled at him when he climbed out of the car. It was quick, a moment stolen in the chaos, but he caught it. It was theirs. And ever since, he’s been aching to get back to his girlfriend.

From the conference he is dragged straight to the debriefing and, by the time that finally ends, Lando is already moving before anyone can stop him; he mutters something about needing a minute and storms down the hall. His race suit is still damp from sweat and champagne, hugging his muscles, the collar pulled loose where he had yanked at it earlier. His curls are a mess, damp at the roots, and his entire body is vibrating with something more than just the thrill of the first win of the season.

He doesn’t hesitate at all when he reaches his room. Just opens the door eagerly, closing it just as quickly. The second he sees her, his stomach flips.

She’s already standing up from the little couch, her face lighting up the moment she realizes it’s him. “Congratulations, my lo—”

Lando is on her in an instant, crossing the small space with long steps and grabbing her waist, lifting her off the ground. She gasps in surprise, laughing breathlessly as her arms wrap around his neck, her fingers threading into his damp curls at the back of his head.

“Oh! Someone missed me, I see,” she giggles, breathing against his cheek.

Lando exhales deeply, his chest heaving, hands tightening around her hips. He can’t think straight, can’t focus on anything but her warmth against him, the scent of her sweet perfume mixing with the sharp tang of champagne on his suit.

“You have no idea. I was losing my fucking mind,” he admits, chuckling in return. He presses his forehead against hers, his breath hot. Purposely, his hands slide down her back, pressing her flush against him. “Thought about you the whole time. Could barely focus.”

Before she can catch her breath, her back meets the hard surface of the nearest wall. Another startled gasp leaves her lips, swallowed instantly by his mouth, his kiss demanding in ways she’s felt it before.

But not like this.

It’s the kind of kiss that takes her by surprise, leaves her thoughtless and very, very aroused. The dress has already lifted up her thighs, and they’re squeezing around him as if Lando could get out of her embrace if she’s not careful. What soothes her, however, is the fact that he is the one who pushes himself even harder against her, pressing his chest against hers until he almost leaves her out of breath.

Lando’s race suit is tight around his body, but he doesn’t have enough energy to care about anything else but her. All he knows is the way her lips part, letting him in like she has no choice, the way her fingers grip his shoulders, and the way his entire body feels like it’s still racing. Only now, it’s for and because of her.

She deepens the kiss, messy and uncoordinated, teeth grazing and tongues tangling in a tender yet rushed desire. Her hands run up the expanse of his arms, feeling the tension in his muscles as he holds her up effortlessly, her feet barely touching the ground. His biceps flex under her touch, and the realization that he’s holding back, restraining himself just enough so he doesn’t break her against that wall, only makes her more pliable in his arms.

“In here?” she asks between kisses.

Lando lets out a little noise while exhaling, feeling her heat pressed against him even through layers of clothing. One of his hands moves, lifting her dress even higher, until it hangs somewhere around the middle of her waist. His fingers are hungrily skimming her bare skin, until they find the waistband of her panties. He doesn’t have enough patience to tease. Just pulls at them, dragging the thin fabric down her thighs and letting it pool at her ankles.

“That answers your question?” asks Lando, feeling her nails digging into his shoulders as she tries to steady herself.

“Mhm,” she lets out a shaky breath, “So eager.”

Lando grins, shrugging, “Got some adrenaline left I need to burn off.”

He groans in frustration as he fumbles with his zipper, refusing to let go of her even for a second. Finally, he yanks it down just enough, his breath heavy as he works himself free with a sharp hiss. In all the rush, Lando’s hands won’t stay away from her hips for too long, keeping her exactly where he needs her.

The girl watches him, eyes filled with amusement despite the heat between them. Then she laughs, a silky sound that makes his heart race in his chest. Lando looks at her and something tender flickers in his gaze, even as he pushes his hips forward, even as the impatience still coils hot in his veins.

“You think this is funny?” he asks, lips curving into a smirk.

She shakes her head, though still amused at the image in front of her, and the way he’s so impatient he can’t even get out of the suit properly. “Nope. I think it’s hilarious.”

Lando scoffs dramatically, like he can’t believe her audacity. “Oh, yeah?” he challenges, his voice lower now. “Let’s see how funny you find this, then.”

Before she can throw another quip his way, his hand slides between her thighs, fingers trailing over her entrance with a lazy kind of intent. She sucks in a breath, all the amusement vanishing in a blink of an eye, her head knocking back against the wall as her body responds to his familiar touch.

Lando watches her reaction, the smirk widening on his flushed face. “Shit, you’re right,” he agrees, dipping his fingers in just enough to make her shudder. “It is hilarious,” he tilts his head, pretending to think. “Yeah. Getting wet so quickly almost has me rolling on the floor.”

He slides his fingers up and down her opening, then pushes two at once inside, curling them right before pulling out, only to make her squirm. Her thighs tighten around his waist, demanding more, but it’s not about her right now. It’s about him, making it a moment worthy of the Winner’s Room.

He’s painfully hard next time he cups himself, and the first press of his cock against her clit sends a shiver up her spine. Lando drags his length down her folds with uncharacteristic patience, until the distance between them diminishes completely, and he kisses her again, lazier than before. Their world becomes substantially smaller, and there’s just hot skin, erratic breathing, and the slick, aching need to be as close as possible. He lines himself up and thrusts in one smooth motion, punching a moan from her lips that she barely manages to swallow down.

Lando lets his forehead fall to hers, chuckling gently. “Not too loud, yeah?”

She shakes her head, “Don’t ruin the fun.”

He’s buried inside her, stretching so sweet that it sends a full-body shudder through her. The wall behind is harsh, but all she can focus on is the way he fills her completely. How he holds her there, with no chance to slip away. Not that she wants to be anywhere else but here, right now, with him.

Lando’s fingers grip her tighter as he pulls back, then slams into her again, feeling her walls pulsing faster around his cock. A broken whimper escapes her, her head falling defeated on his shoulder. It makes him curse under his breath, finally finding a rhythm that’s both deep and devastating. Each thrust forces a soft cry from her throat, her body moving in unison with his, nails raking down his sweaty back.

The way she pulls him in turns Lando on even more, the only sounds between them the ragged breaths and the wet, obscene noises of him fucking her right there, against the wall.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” exclaims Lando, biting down on her shoulder, his hips snapping up harder.

She lets out a hiss, her head is spinning while pleasure is building gradually, her body burning from the inside out. She fists his curls, dragging his mouth back to hers, swallowing his groans as she squeezes him.

“That’s so good, baby. Shit. Keep doing that.”

The way she feels around him, the way she moans and gasps his name, the way her body reacts to him like she was made for him — everything gets too much for Lando. Yet, he somehow finds himself craving more of her. His movements grow sloppier, pushing him to drive into her faster.

“Lando…” she moans his name in a whisper, cupping his face with the intention to kiss him. But the way he’s moving inside her makes her weak, so she ends up holding on to him with limited strength, like her life depends on it.

And right now, it does.

Their eyes meet just as he lifts her thigh higher on his waist, the small adjustment allowing him to sink deeper.

“Fuck, Lando,” she whines, her voice barely more than a breath. “You feel so—”

He doesn’t let her finish. A hard thrust has her choking on her words, and the way she clenches down around him makes his jaw go slack.

“Yes, tell me,” he urges, his voice too unsteady, hanging on by a thread, while his fingers press into the curve of her waist like he’s trying to brand himself into her skin.

She loses it, her hands tugging at his hair just to hear his little noises in return. “Feel so good, love,” she breathes heavily, her head falling back, exposing her throat. “Fucking me so good.”

A guttural curse escapes him, dragging her against him with a pace that makes her cry out in pleasure. “That so?” he rasps, his teeth grazing her jaw before his lips claim hers, swallowing every desperate sound she makes. “Then take it, baby,” he orders gently, “All of it. All for you.”

“Shit—don’t stop,” she begs, her eyes teary because of how tense with pleasure her body gets.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “Feel how perfect you are? How fucking tight, hm? That’s it,” he encourages her, watching the way her lashes flutter open to look at him. “Gonna let me feel you fall apart?” asks Lando, going somehow even deeper with each thrust.

Her back arches, a broken moan spilling from her lips. She’s so full and desperate to come, and he knows she’s close; her whines and the way her body reacts giving it away in the most obvious way.

“Need you, Lan,” she breathes in spasms, “Please.”

“I can see that, baby. Come on,” he grits out, his movements turning frantic. “Let me have it.”

Her body trembles at his words, at the sheer heat in his voice. The way he holds her, firm and possessive, sends her spiraling. Every thrust, every rough snap of his hips only winds her tighter, like he’s pulling her apart piece by piece just to put her back together again.

“Lan-do,” she breathes, voice breaking on his name. “I… oh, fuck,” she can barely think anymore, barely breathe with the way he’s fucking into her, like stopping isn’t even an option.

His hand slides up her side, gripping the back of her neck, tilting her head so she has no choice but to meet his gaze again. His eyes are way too dark now, blown wide with lust, sending another wave of heat flooding through her veins. He goes harder when he sees the desire on her face, pushing her further against the wall, and she lets out a high-pitched moan before biting her lip, remembering where they are.

“Wanna feel you all over my cock,” she hears him saying, but she’s so overstimulated now that can’t quite process the meaning of his words. She’s not sure she’s even breathing as Lando presses his body against her with more force, continuing, “Be a good girl and let go for me.”

That’s all it takes. Her body seizes, her head spinning as pleasure rips through her, hot and intense. And endless. She clenches around him, pulsing, shaking, and the feeling, the sight of her unraveling for him, sends Lando spiraling too.

He chokes out a curse, burying his face in her neck as he surrenders, his hips pressing deep and desperate to keep her close as he fills her. The warmth spreads between them, spilling down her thighs, and the sheer filthiness of it only makes her moan, her fingers flying to curl in his hair once again.

Lando rests his forehead against hers, panting, his lips ghosting over her cheek. He doesn’t move away just yet. Instead, he pulls out, and a sharp whimper escapes her as she feels the mess they’ve made drip down her thighs.

Then, without warning, he pushes back in making her gasp silently this time, her hands gripping his shoulders.

“Wait, Lan,” she almost cries, her voice raw.

He keeps her still while he rolls his hips, slow and teasing, his other hand trailing down her stomach before settling low on her belly.

She shudders at the touch and at the way he’s still so deep inside of her, tilting her head and blinking heavy-lidded. “Wh—what are you doing?”

Lando barely hears her. His attention is caught on where they’re still connected, mesmerized by the way his cock glistens with their release as he continues to lazily move in and out. He watches the way her spent body still takes him in, so perfectly, his jaw clenching as pleasure coils in his gut all over again. It sends his head spinning, the wet sensation of skin on skin almost maddening.

Every shift, every sudden flutter of her walls around him, threatens to pull him under completely.

“Fuck, baby,” his raspy voice is laced with adoration. “I can look at you all day.”

Her body is already responding before her mind can catch up. She clenches around him again and again, and Lando chuckles lowly, the sound rich with satisfaction.

“Oh, shit! You like that, don’t you? Hearing how good of a girl you are for me, hm?”

She nods and, without meaning to, she tightens around him harder.

Lando’s grin turns smug. “Yeah, you do,” his hips still for a beat, his hands flexing against her waist before he gives her one hard thrust that knocks the air from her lungs. “Like that, baby,” he groans, the words dripping with heat. “Keep me in.”

The sensation of her pulling him even deeper rips a moan straight from his throat, and Lando drops his forehead to her shoulder, breathing heavily.

“Fucking hell, you’re killing me,” he rasps, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against her damp skin. “Swear to God, I’ll come again if you—”

“Lando?” a muffled, familiar voice rings out from the other side of the door, accompanied by knocking. “Your parents are waiting, mate. You good in there?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

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l4ndoflove · 1 month ago

Text

the winner takes it all

TW suicide attempt (sleeping pills overdose), social media hate, mental health struggles, depression (lmk if i missed anything)

feat. lando norris

lyrics when oscar wins in bahrain, lando loses everything: credibility, respect... and almost his life, too

maddie i'm tired of people hating on lando for literally no reason, so i wrote about it

2045 words

The race had gone… good. Not great, but not necessarily bad either.

Sure, receiving a five-second penalty for overshooting his grid box at the start wasn’t exactly optimal, but Lando had still managed to get a podium, going from P6 to P3. And you really thought — you hoped — that would be enough for him.

But the moment you saw him stepping up there, you knew it wasn’t.

He did everything right, as if it was all part of a routine he’d learned to perform like some kind of circus monkey: wave, clap, smile. Repeat. He took his trophy, listened to the anthem, sprayed the champagne — turning his back to Oscar and going straight for Andrea.

Rookie mistake.

The media noticed. Of course they did. Had they ever missed anything when it came to Lando, after all?

Within minutes, the clip of him “ignoring” his teammate had gone viral, and suddenly, it was Hungary 2024 all over again. The usual criticism was quick to follow:

he is a good driver but actually so incredibly immature

grow up Lando, you win some and lose some

Piastri making strides 💪 Lando going backwards

It always ended up with people spitting venom at him at every given opportunity — even for something as stupid as this — so you didn’t give it much thought, praying that Lando would do the same.

When you scrolled down your Instagram page, however, your heart clenched at the sight of his post-race interview, already trending on every F1-related account. He was clearly disappointed with the result, the car… himself.

You opened the comments, expecting to find, if not sympathy, at least some basic human decency.

But you should’ve known better.

yes lando you aren’t good enought

This guy is not a world champion 😂😂

If you can’t handle your emotions, you’re not strong enough. Thats why he never wins a worldtitle

During his rookie days I’d have some sympathy but now he just looks like a whiney child

He will be 2nd driver soon

Tears clouded your vision as you clutched the phone so hard you thought it might break.

You wished it did.

Maybe that would’ve finally erased the cruelty, the hate, the insults people apparently liked to throw at a 25-year-old boy who was already carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders — a world that was ready to jump at his throat the moment he slipped up.

You needed to find him before something like that could happen again. So you ran.

The cooldown room was still buzzing with electricity when you stormed in, the kind that lingers only after champagne-soaked celebrations and loud smiles. Your eyes searched every corner of it, looking for a curly head they didn’t find, landing on Oscar instead, drenched from head to toe and radiating happiness while he chatted with Zak.

“Hey,” he smiled warmly as soon as he spotted you, his expression shifting immediately when he noticed how tense yours was. “Something wrong?”

“Lando?” It wasn’t an answer, but you hoped Oscar would catch on either way.

You didn’t like how he frowned in confusion instead.

“He told me he was going back to the hotel with you,” he explained, brows furrowed.

Your stomach dropped, color draining from your face.

Panic.

The second he saw your reaction, it clicked in his head, too. “Wait, why would he…”

You didn’t let him finish — just turned around and left, sprinting out of the paddock like your life depended on it.

Because, even if yours didn’t, Lando’s might.

And you knew what Oscar was about to say. It was the same question that gnawed at you as you ran one red light after the other, your mind going faster than your car ever could.

Why would he lie about where he is?

The silence hit you like a slap in the face when you finally entered the hotel room.

Not welcoming. Not peaceful.

Empty.

Like something was missing.

There was no background music playing in the kitchen, no faint chattering coming from the TV you usually left on, no white noise of any sort… just eerie, deafening silence.

But your boyfriend didn’t do silence.

He hated it.

“Lando?” Your voice echoed off the walls. Too loud. Too scared. “Baby, it’s me.”

Still nothing.

You paced around the apartment like a ghost, looking for any sign of his presence in the shadows that crowded the place.

It was the bathroom light, bleeding through the darkness from beneath a half-open door, that ended up catching your attention. You reached for it like a moth to a flame, gaze dropping to the floor as soon as you found yourself in the doorway.

Your knees followed it.

He was there. Slumped against the wall, his head lolling sideways, fingers wrapped loosely around a bottle of sleeping pills.

When you took it from his hand to check it, there were only a few of them left.

You almost threw up.

“Lando. No, no, no, shit– Lando, wake up. Baby, please, wake up, don’t do this to me–” Tears streamed down your cheeks, his name falling out of your mouth like a plea as you gently cupped his jaw with your palms.

His eyelids fluttered open at the sound of your voice. Slow. Heavy. As if something so simple had suddenly become incredibly painful.

“That’s it, baby. Just keep your eyes open for me, okay? Stay awake, I’m here. I’m here.” You kept repeating that last sentence like a mantra, running one of your hands through his curls while you rushed to dial the emergency number with the other, your fingers shaking so much you only got it right on the third try.

You didn’t give the operator on the other end a chance to speak when they finally picked up, a river of disconnected sentences flowing out of your mouth — he’s barely conscious, he took some pills, I don’t know how many, please hurry up.

Then, just as you were about to hang up, his lips parted, a whisper so low you could’ve imagined it pushing past them.

“I fucked up.”

Yes, you fucked up, you wanted to scream, but the relief of finally hearing his voice, of knowing he could still breathe, only brought more tears to your eyes.

“You’re okay.” Lie. “You’re okay, and that’s all that matters. You hear me? Just–” you choked on your words. “Just stay with me, please.”

“M’tired.” His voice was hoarse, scraping his throat like he’d been screaming for hours. Maybe he had.

“I know, baby, I know,” you sobbed, pressing your forehead against his — raw, desperate, alive. “But hold on a little longer. Just a little, okay? Shit, Lan, I’m sorry....”

I’m sorry I didn’t see it coming.

***

The next few hours were a blur.

Red and blue lights. White gowns.

You refused to let go of Lando’s hand while the paramedics loaded him into the ambulance, holding it even tighter when they put needles into his arms and ran fluids through his veins, your fingers linked to his like a lifeline.

For him or yourself, you didn’t know anymore.

They told you he was lucky. That if you hadn’t found him and acted so quickly, he could’ve–

You didn’t want to think about it.

Which was hard when the only thing you could see was how frail your boyfriend looked on that bed, his skin as pale as the blanket he was tucked under, small and helpless like a child.

You didn’t leave his side for a second, caressing his face with the same gentleness and care of a mother while you lulled him softly — allowing yourself to pretend.

Pretend he’d just gone back to sleep after a bad dream.

Pretend he wasn’t surrounded by machines that lived for him after he stopped trying to.

Pretend you didn’t almost give up, too, when you saw him limp on the bathroom floor back at the hotel.

***

It was 3 a.m. when he finally gave the first signs of life.

A beep on the monitor. A sharp, weak inhale as he stirred.

He blinked.

“You’re awake,” you choked out a laugh, relief washing over you as you took his hand between your trembling ones and planted a kiss on his knuckles.

His skin beneath your lips felt warm, familiar.

The chuckle that left his, not so much.

“You’re surprised.”

Bitterness. Guilt. Shame.

You froze and glanced up at him, a chill running down your spine at the insinuation hidden behind his words.

He didn’t meet your gaze.

“Lando.”

He flinched, staring at the ceiling like he couldn’t stand the idea of seeing the reflection of his mistake on your face if he turned toward you instead.

As if it was easier to ignore you rather than acknowledge your concern.

“Lando, look at me. Please.”

You heard it before you saw it: his breath hitching when you begged him. Begged him to let you in, to show you the demons he’d been carrying alone for too long — so long that they’d almost taken over him.

Then, a single tear ran down his cheek.

And another.

Until he couldn’t stop them anymore, and they just kept spilling from his eyes, each one heavier than the one before.

Without a second thought, you crawled into bed beside him, letting him bury his face in the crook of your neck as you muttered sweet nothings against his temple, fighting to hold yourself together and be strong for the both of you.

“I’m sorry,” he cried, violent sobs racking his chest. Your hands drew soothing paths down his back, and you wished that could be enough to stop his shoulders from shaking like there was an earthquake wrecking him from the inside.

“For what, baby?” you asked, voice laced with the kind of sadness that only witnessing the person you love trying to self-destroy himself could bring.

“For... being like this. I hate it. I fucking hate it. And I don’t–” he gasped, out of breath. “–shit, I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Because you don’t have to. There’s nothing to fix, Lan. I know people expect you to, but you’re not a robot. You’re a human being, and you’re allowed to break. Okay?”

“It hurts,” he sniffled, though you could feel the tension starting to leave his body under your touch.

He lay there for what felt like hours, curled into your side like a baby while you held him close to your heart, hoping he’d hear how fast it beat and realized that it only ached for him.

The first rays of light filtered through the small hospital window when Lando’s breathing finally slowed down, matching your own.

You almost thought he'd fallen asleep — peaceful, at last — but then you felt him shift against you, his brown locks tickling your throat when he pulled back slightly to look up at you.

His eyes were glassy and red-rimmed, eyelashes sticking together, wet with tears, but still undeniably, utterly him.

“I didn’t want to die,” he whispered, realization dawning on him as soon as those words left him mouth.

You didn’t miss the flicker of fear in his gaze, either: it terrified him thinking about how close he’d been to ending it all — when he actually didn’t want to.

“I was just... tired, I guess.” He sighed deeply, almost to prove his point. He really did look exhausted. “And they were getting too loud.”

“Who? People online? You know I always tell you not to worry about what they sa–”

“The voices in my head.”

The way he said it, as if that was something he’d learned to live with the hard way, was like a punch to the gut.

“Then you scream louder. And I’ll scream with you until the only voices you can hear are yours and mine. Because it’s you who should have the power to silence them, not the other way around. Understood?”

He nodded, weak but trustful, his wide eyes a sea of blue and green as you stared into them.

“I love you,” you added, gently brushing your lips against his forehead. “Even when you think nobody does.”

“Promise?” he croaked, voice breaking as he nuzzled closer into the comforting heat of your chest.

“Promise.”

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unsolicited-opinions · 3 days ago

Text

You probably heard about the "14,000 babies in 48 hours" thing, but the media is doing a shit job of explaining it clearly.

Here's a recap:

---

The Claim

On May 14, 2025, Tom Fletcher, United Nations Humanitarian Coordinator, claimed during an interview on BBC Radio 4 that "14,000 babies could die in the next 48 hours in Gaza" due to severe humanitarian conditions.

This is Tom Fletcher:

The figure Fletcher gave was based on a "misinterpretation" of a report from the Integrated Food Security Phase Classification (IPC).

What the IPC had actually projected was that 14,100 children aged 6 months to 5 years in Gaza were projected to suffer severe acute malnutrition over the 12-month period between April 2025 and March 2026 - not that they were all babies, nor that they would die, let alone within 48 hours.

The malnutrition claim was spurious enough, but claiming 14,000 babies would die in 48 hours was batshit insane.

HOW BATSHIT WAS IT?

Totally, blatantly batshit.

Let's do some math.

14,000 deaths in 48 hours = 291 babies per hour, or nearly 5 babies every minute, around the clock, 24 hours/day.

This level of mass death in such a short timeframe is unheard of outside of a nuclear catastrophe or an active extermination campaign...and no such event was occurring.

You'd think an expert from the UN would know the basic demographics, right?

Gaza has a population of roughly 2.3 million.

About 15% of the population is under 5 years old, or roughly 345,000 children.

Of those, the number of infants (under 12 months) is far smaller - closer to 50,000-60,000.

If 14,000 infants were to die in 48 hours, that would be over 25% of all babies in Gaza. In two days.

No known famine, epidemic, or conflict has ever produced that kind of child mortality in such a short span.

Not even historical attrocities accomplished that death rate.

Anyone with a basic understanding of child mortality statistics, humanitarian logistics, historical precedent, or basic mental math should have been immediately skeptical. The number was a red flag on its face and the claim should have prompted instant demands for sources, verification, and context.

Nobody in the Western legacy media seems to have made such demands.

Beleiving this claim required ignoring basic demographics, suspending disbelief about death rates, and trusting emotionally explosive language over factual scrutiny.

That didn't stop Tom from saying it.

That didn't stop news outlets from reporting it.

That didn't stop people from believing it.

What were the consequences?

Since no correction came from the UN for more than a week and nobody in the media thought to do their jobs and question it, this false claim lived in the world for those 8 days.

The claim was cited in the UK House of Commons during debates on Gaza and humanitarian aid. Politicians referred to the figure as fact, influencing rhetoric and public policy discussions.

The emotional weight of the claim increased pressure on Western governments to take urgent action or adopt stronger positions regarding Israel's actions in Gaza.

The figure was emotionally powerful and l inflamed already-deranged pro-Palestinian camps.

I'd argue it helped fan the flames of anti-Israel sentiment and antisemitism.

The claim circulated widely on the 20th and 21st.

Direct causation between the climate created by this misinformation and the shooting in DC on the 21st is speculative, but I'm seeing a lot of speculation on that. Here's Hen Mazzig:

Just days ago, the UN published a scandalous headline claiming that Israel would kill 14,000 babies in 48 hours. In reality, the report stated: "14,100 severe cases of malnutrition could occur over the next year among children under five, if aid doesn't reach them." See how one year becomes 48 hours? How potential illness becomes certain death? How children become babies? Which headline do you think the antisemitic shooter in Washington DC read, and remembered? Words matter. Blood libels have consequences. They led to the murder of Yaron Lischinsky and Sarah Milgrim.

May their memories forever be a blessing

Because the false UN claim remained uncorrected for over a week, many individuals and advocacy groups based their calls to action, posts, and even protests on a false premise - creating a widespread misunderstanding about the scale and urgency of the crisis.

Finally, today, May 22nd of 2025, more than a week later, the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) is reported to have issued a clarification, stating the claim was a misreading of the IPC data. I can't find any evidence of it, but that's what's being reported.

Tom Fletcher has not issued an apology or public retraction for his statement. It seems there will be no consequences for his incompetence.

#jumblr #antisemitism #14000 babies #Tom Fletcher #Un #United Nations #Misinformation #Disinformation

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earthisnice · 3 months ago

Text

The Secretary's Surprise

Male reader x Kep1er Xiaoting

this is my first time writing so I don't proofread, my bad. Anyways, enjoy

you wake up early today because you must interview some new intern later, even though you are the owner, sometimes you interview them to know who will be your employee. you get up from your bed and make a coffee in the kitchen and go the balcony enjoy the coffee and the view from your apartment. today's weather is so nice, you can see the view clearer than other day while slurping your hot coffee slowly not realizing you are late actually. you take your phone and send message Kim, your HRD to start interview first because you will come late. After sending a message to him, you take a shower and get ready to go.

on your way to the office, you stroll and enjoy the view and fresh air but suddenly someone crashes into you from behind and makes you fall on your face. you try to sit down and face up to see who crashed on you. She is beautiful you thought then she screamed when she looked at you

"It's blood !!" and she rushed to you gave a tissue and apologized to you.

"sorry i crashes into you because i was in a hurry to the office for a job interview" she said while bowed to me many times.

"it's okay, careful next time. okay?" you replied and then helped her tidy up her belongings that fell after she bumped into you earlier.

"where will you have a job interview?" you asked her.

"it's DP company" she said.

you hide your shock while helped tidying her fallen belonging because she will do the job interview at your company and not telling her that you are the owner.

"ah it's a big company, right? why do you want to work there… sorry who is your name?" you asked

"i'm xiaoting" she replied.

"ah i see, xiaoting. it's beautiful name. so why you want to work at DP company?" you asked her once again.

"it's my dream to work there since my college life, i study hard so i can reach my dream there" she said reminiscing her dream then the reality slapped her that she already late to the job interview

"i go first and i'm sorry once again crashes you" she continued and bowed to you for one last time.

finally you arrive at your office and you got bombarded by question from your employees because a tissue plugged in your nose

"Y/N, why are your nose bleeding?!?" they asked.

"ahhh it's nothing, i got tripped and fall down" you replied

"Which room is the place for job interviews?" you continued

"it's on the third floor, for accounting team's room" they replied

"ah okay, thanks" you replied again then go to the third floor and stepped into the room when xiaoting interviewed, her eyes widen and confused why are you there in the same room.

"Oh, Xiaoting is being interviewed now? Just accept her to work here, no need for interview further" you said ordering Kim.

"do you know her boss?" he asked

"yes, i met her when i collided with her earlier" you replied

then Kim explained who you are to her, that you are the owner of the company.

"ah.. 1 more question xiaoting, which department do you applied again?" you asked her.

"i applied for accounting department and secretary.." she answered

"okay good, be my secretary then. you can work now, can you?" you cut her.

"yes i can, sir" she answered.

"okay let's go then" you command her to follow you

"you can continue the interview for accounting department" you said to Kim and he nodded.

you walked out from the interview room and lead xiaoting to her office room

"Y/N, i'm sorry that i don't noticed you earlier and sorry for made your nose bleeding too", she said while bowed again.

"heyyy.. it's nothing don't blamed yourself like that, and i can see your passion for the work and have a great attitude too. if not, you already leaving me there bleeding" i laughed changing the subject.

"by the way, how old are you now, Xiaoting?" you asked her,

"i'm 25 now, sir" she replied.

"heyy.. the different not that much, i'm 29. you can drop the honorifics, because we met casually" you said.

"here.. you can work here, this is your office room. you know what secretary do, right?" you showed her office room and give her a deskjob then she nodded.

"if there is anything you don't understand, you can come to my room to ask, okay" you continued as she nodded again.

day to weeks you work tandem with her, she is excellent with what her doing. you never expected found someone with talent to be your secretary like her. today is like another day you work with her while she mention your next schedule.

"okay, thanks for the info, ting" you said.

you go out for the meeting with your client and she stay at the office because you command her. you done meeting with lient before lunch then heading back to your office. after you arrived at office, you are not heading to your office room but her office room. you opened the door and it made her jolted in surprise

"oh, sorry to surprise you hehe" you giggled.

"want to lunch together?" you asked her and she nodded.

"how is the job? do you like it? does it meet your expectations when you dream of working in my company?" you bombarded her with questions.

"can you asked one by one?" she said chuckled.

"oh my bad hehe" you chuckle replied her.

"the job is best for me, it absolutely meet my expectation i dreamed of" she answered,

"it's relieving , i put you in the right job" you replied.

"by the way, tonight you will no have any schedule, sir" she said.

"okay thank you for the info, you can go home early too. hey, remember to drop honorifics when meet me?" you said, she nodded smile.

the night has come when you packing to go home early but something make you to work overtime because of your client request, you sighed of it. then, someone knocking your room

"come in" you answered the knock.

"oh it's you ting. what's up?" you asked her.

"hmm.. didn't I say that you don't have any schedule tonight?" she asked.

"well, client's request so i have to wrap it up. something happened?" you asked while focus on your laptop as you heard the door locked in.

you turned you face to the doorway and see xiaoting,

"hmm? why you locked the door?" you frown questioning.

xiaoting not answering but walk into your way slowly and stand behind your chair, her hands landed your shoulders massaging it,

"you've worked hard, Y/N, your muscle is so tensed" she whispered

you can feel her hot breath on your ears. you turn your chair around to face her,

"wh-what are you doing, ting?" you asked while she start stripping in front of you.

her small pert breast with pink nipples and shaved pussy, make you gulped with the sight and can feel you cock start hardening,

"i can make you relax.. oppa" she said, this is the first time she called you oppa.

then she kneel down and caressing your thigh and trail her hands to your cock through the pants. her hands worked unbuckled your belt and unzipped it to pull it down, your cock sprang free hit her chin. she smiled and her eyes widen awe by your size

"it's so big" she murmured.

then she place her hands on my cock and stroke it up and down,

"ah.." you moaned.

she is not wasting time leaned in and kiss your tip to taste your precum, her mouth gaped slightly and take you cock into her mouth while her tongue licked the underside.

"oh my.. your mouth.." your words are cut off as you moaned and caressing her hair and bring her head to go deeper take your cock.

you hold her head till your tip can feel her back throat, you can see the tears flowing from the corner of her eyes. then you pull you hands off of her head and she start backing off gasped some air, you can see a string saliva connected from her lips to your cock.

"woah.. woahh.. didn't expected my secretary can help relax too" you said as you caress her cheek,

then you command her to blow your cock again. you can feel your orgasm building but you don't want explode in her mouth, you want your cock deep inside her pussy, you thought.

you stand her up to her feet and bend her over to your desk

"stay like this, ting" you command her

you kneel down and leaned in closer bring your tongue to her pussy, you lick her pussy from behind while your hands caressing her asscheeks. she moaned by your action and her juices start dripping to your mouth.

"hmm.. someone must be so horny here, huh?" you teased her,

"ahh.. oppa, don't stop. i'm so close" she said moaning.

you continued your lick but your finger slid inside her pussy now. you slid another finger to her pussy, scissoring and stretch it wide, you pump in and out of her pussy and touch her sweet spot while your tongue worked on her clit, she cry out and a few moment later she squirting hard on your hand and face.

"wow, you came so much" you watch with awe while you lap your chin,

"i'm sorry oppa, i make a mess in your office" she apologized.

"it's okay ting, i want to make you squirt more and make this room our playground" you smirked while you kiss her bare back trail up to her shoulders.

you aligned your cock to her pussy and penetrate her slowly from behind

"ahh ting, you're so tight" you groaned.

"ahh oppa…" she cry out while you thrust deeper,

and finally your cock successfully entered inside her pussy, you stay still so she can adjust your size and feel your cock inside and also in the meantime you can feel her walls pulsating massaging your cock

"can i start?" you asked her permission and she nodded.

then you start thrust in and out slowly so she can feel the sensation.

"faster oppa.. fuck me faster !!" she moaned begged me to go faster and i complied it.

your hands gripped her hips as you thrust into her faster as you watched her ass jiggle rhythmically with your thrust, you can't help but slap her ass, she moaned louder and her walls clench my cock tighter.

"are you close ting? i can feel your grip me tighter" you said, "yes.. oppa.. i'm cumming!!" she cry out, squirt on your cock coating it with her juices. you're not slowed down, you still thrust in and out fast through her orgasm that make her squirt once more.

you flip her body and lay her back to your desk,

"wrapped your legs to my waist ting" you command her and she complied it,

then you pull her arms and put it around to your neck. you penetrate her once again and carry her make she yelp. your hands grip her ass and moves her hips up and down like a fleshlight, she cry out again, you hold her hips still while your moves up and down now thrusting faster and harder into her pussy. with some thrust she squirt again, and her walls clench tighter like milking your cock.

"i'm close, ting" you whispered on her ears and bring her down to her kneel, stroke your cock.

"open your mouth, ting" you command her and explode inside her mouth and some on her face and hair.

"swallow it if you want. it's okay to spit it out" you hands her a tissue but she swallow it instead.

"your cum taste sweet and salty, oppa" she said as wiping her face and hair with the tissue you gave her ,

"lick cleaned me up ting" you command her as you bring your cock in front of her lips again, she complied lick your cock clean.

"you are amazing, ting. you are my best secretary" you kiss her forehead and caress her hair.

#kep1er #xiaoting #smut #kep1er smut

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northopalshore · 2 months ago

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Jupiter in the

Midheaven persona chart

Jupiter in the Midheaven persona chart tells you about what people adore & respect you for most for i.e your biggest influence in terms of your professional or public appearance. The degree or sign it's in may also tell you what about your career that is revered or celebrated. All content seen here was accumulated through my personal observation. Please do not copy my work ʕ⁠´⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠`⁠ʔฅ🔉

Masterlist| MC Persona Chart masterlist | Venus persona chart masterlist

🪷 Aries (°1,°13,°25) | 1st House

Your rough & tough personality, your no bullshit principle of life & that brazen attitude of yours is what people respect most about you. While some may sugar coat their lives and experiences to make it look pretty or more tolerant, you don't. You're loud, proud & take pride in your ways/experiences and what you've been through. People will respect your struggle and will to survive however you did. Or even just by saying or doing shit nobody else will do. You are raw & truly show yourself as is (albeit quite boldly even if sometimes you share.. too much). You are proud of yourself & do not filter your personality for anything or anyone & that's what people respect. You're a do-er, and most times actions do speak louder than words.

Ex: Cardi B has Jupiter Libra (°13 Aries) in her 4th house. I think she's a great example to give. You definitely see how her fans respect her authenticity & her flaws. Though some people see her as "loud & annoying" those that pay attention know that she's more than that. She's authentic, sweet & can call out bullshit/unfairness when she sees it. She's also vulnerable with her fans & in interviews. She's also notably a mother and has been very outward (sticking to it) on that in recent years.

🪷 Taurus (°2,°14,°26) | 2nd House

Your confidence, sense of responsibility & humility is a highlight of your public image. You may also be very vocal about self love or women's rights & people really connect with that. Your opinion is highly valued , and that groundedness you possess easily allows you to reach people. People find it easy to trust you & depend on you. People also respect you for your ability to put out the right words to move them, or even just move yourself! You are resilient and smart, especially when it comes to expressing yourself through the things you have. People with this placement also make great business owners (& may be respected for that as well). This placement is also good for writers & artists (those that are in journalism or where they speak/write about real experiences) in terms of reputation.

Ex: Namjoon is well known for being the leader of BTS. He has Jupiter (°14 Taurus) in Scorpio the 6th house. Aside from his leadership position in BTS, he is also a man with a good down to earth image. Didn't he accidentally create a "core" what was it. Namjooning? I heard that he wasn't fond of it though; because it felt like he was being commercialized for his lifestyle almost. I've seen some clips of interviews where Namjoon would always hold down the fort for the rest of the guys. He's also known for that mature sensibility he has. His thoughts are also very (aside from the freaky side of him heard through his music lol).

🪷 Gemini (°3,°15,°27) | 3rd House

People adore you for your voice or your writing. Your entertaining personality, your sense of humor and your ability to vocalize your intentions well. For that, people think you are smart and funny. You ask deeper questions, and challenge the people's thoughts/opinions. People adore how well-read & knowledgeable you are! Those with these placements usually are writers, actors or educators (or their job requires them to work with words, teaching or putting their thoughts out there). People adore the things you share or say/ write & even just how you talk in the professional world (under public perception)If you are an actor, you'll find that your lines are quotable due to the fun or catchy quality it has. While Taurus's words are based on experience & gut feeling, yours is based on intuition & research most of the time.

Ex: Marilyn Monroe has Jupiter (°22 Capricorn) in Pisces 3rd house. Though people did mistake her for being the dumb blond stereotype, she was in fact a very intelligent & progressive thinking woman. Especially considering the 50s were still extremely conservative. She has earned a lot of respect for both her beauty & brains.

🪷 Cancer (°4,°16,°28) | 4th House

People find you very emotionally intelligent, and find a lot of comfort within you. People may see you as a mother or a female figure (or just a comforting presence) in their life. They adore how despite the pain or tough experiences you've been through, you still remain kind, generous and open to other people. Being strong in your own way. People also adored your femininity, and reassuring energy. You are not afraid to be emotional, to share your feelings and that vulnerability and people respect you for that. Also, this can make people emotionally invest in you as well or connect with you emotionally. Makes people very fond of you too from what I've seen.

Ex: Markiplier has Jupiter in Cancer (°1 Aries) in the 11th house! Which explains his deep connection with his viewers and reputation for being a softie (there are lots of videos of him crying while expressing his love & gratitude for his supporters). I remember stumbling on one of his older videos in the past, I can't remember the title.. was it I believe in you? Or you can do it? Whenever he opens up, it just feels comforting. You get that intimate feel & know it's coming from the heart. Why? That Aries degree is a no bullshit degree (which also explains the big brute/act first think later tough guy part of him as well that equally adored).

🪷 Leo (°5,°17,°29) | 5th House

You are most respected & likely also adored for your endurance. Aside from your looks, aesthetics and sex appeal of course. Leo's original traits really shine with this placement, you are able to take a lot of pressure & hits and still come out stronger than ever. No matter what industry you are in or what you do for a living, people may look at you as a source of inspiration or "model worker" due to your independence, practicality & creativity. Even in the most mundane job ever, you do it best or give it your all and people can see that.

Ex: The best example I can give you for this placement is Taylor Swift. She has Jupiter in Leo (°2 Taurus) in the 11th house. Aside from her genius lyricism, you cannot deny that what she's MOSt respected & adored for is her positive, resilient nature. People used to talk a lot of shit about her in the past though she did have her own right to a couple crash outs, but in the end she always found a way to get through it & come out better than before.

Also, Christian Yu has Jupiter (°3 Gemini ) in Leo hehe~ if you're familiar with DPR, you'll know. Please look him up! This manifested a bit later for him in general, even though it was definitely there before; it's like redoing things that you've done in the past & giving it new life. Which to me explains that retrograde of his.

🪷 Virgo (°6,°18) | 6th House

Your humble personality, your regime, your hard work & long-term efforts is something that you will gain a lot of respect for. People see that you are one with the things that you do, mind body and soul. Nothing that you do is made for the sake of fun, but rather to achieve something & that is very commendable. You are a perfectionist, and often become the people's support i.e the person everyone runs to for help or advice. People respect how trustworthy & reliable you are. When your assistance is needed, you will always show up or at least show them the right way to do it. Expect to see this pop up in the charts of self made individuals, those that actually deserve their place wherever they are (& quite possibly deserve more than that too). The only downside is that you might get overworked, because you're the person everyone runs to when they need something. If people lose track of what to do, they just hand it over to you lol.

🪷 Libra (°7,°19) | 7th House

People often admire you for your charming, fair personality & looks. It's your agreeable attitude when going about life and how you carry yourself when it comes to your presence. You are the type to "do the right thing" a lot and have a good sense of morals & do not tolerate injustices. Surprisingly this shows that you are more attached to activism ( which is usually seen with Aquarius but not this time around apearantly). Your romantic nature, your love life and sensuality is something people adore or respect about you. In some way, it's your pursuit or romanticism that charms people your way. You could also be respected because of your connections with certain people; your company, business, contract, or even literally your marriage/spouse.

Ex: Prince is a prime example for this in my opinion. Jupiter (°27 Gemini ) in Libra the 4th. His rendezvous with the women he adored also contributed to this adoration as he is not shallow or artificial when it comes to love, sensuality & expression. He was a smart, man with a purpose; there was weight in the things he said & not to mention he knew/mastered how to play multiple instruments & different sounds/genres. Sometimes different genres in the same album or same song! I think he will forever remain iconic in that sense. Many people were fond of him and connected with him on both an intellectual & emotional level and that gained him a lot of respect. Purple Rain is still a sexy staple! Trust me, just watch the musical & you'll get why he's perfect for this example!!

For that spouse or connections part (because hell no am I calling him attractive), there is no better example than Jay-Z . He has Jupiter in Libra (°26 Taurus) 2nd house. I know he's most respected for his business & brand. & ehem, he's literally married to BEYONCÉ wtf. Both of them are powerhouses and that only elevates people's adoration/respect for him. Aside from his very interesting connections (who were also, in fact influential in their own way regardless of their controversy o course). You can't deny that he is a brand that will never leave the celebrity world.

Kim Kardashian has Jupiter (°15 Gemini) in Libra in the 2nd house . Out of all the Kardashians, she has the most iconic lines in the family. She's also a proud woman, a business woman & has been studying law since 2018. Despite her controversy, she is still respected for her eye for business & her powerful connections and just her as a brand. Also, she was most noticeable as Kanye's wife (or rather ex-wife at the moment). She definitely did the right thing ngl.

Guess who also has this? Jungkook. Hah. He has Jupiter (°12 Pisces ) in Aquarius in the 7th house. He is mostly associated with BTS for a large portion of his life & that part will never leave him even if they no longer produce music together in the future. That's part of his legacy. Though, you can expect to see him with his wife in the future but working in a different way (not really leaning into how he did it before) I don't think he'll be "on stage" much after marriage but present in a different way. Side note, but I thought it was funny how both he & Cristian Ronaldo have almost the same Jupiter placement; Aquarius Jupiter (°7 Libra) in the 12th.

🪷 Scorpio (°8,°20) | 8th House

You are most adored for your powerful presence & untouchable energy. In some cases, this could be tied to rap or raw sexual charm. You have a very addictive personality and ability to make anything a "hot item". People may think that you possess a very exclusive energy as well and being able to be in your circle makes them feel lucky or better by association. This placement could mean your ability to be bold (dgaf energy), influence, rap or "control" over something often leaves people in awe of you. You are a force to be reckoned with & people know that. People with this placement change the game in any industry they are in while many others respect it, you also gain very passionate haters/jealousy as well.

Ex: Both Jennie Jupiter in Capricorn (°8 Scorpio) 12th house & Beyoncé Jupiter in Scorpio (°1 Aries ) 10th house (Beyoncés updated birth time), have Jupiter in Scorpio/Scorpio degree. Both are undoubtedly amended for their powerful stage performances and hypnotizing influence over their respective industry.

Michael Jackson & I have the same placement for Jupiter (°20 Scorpio & °8 degree respectively) in Scorpio 4th house! MJ is a power house when it comes to his career. He had the ability to make anyone & everyone obsessed with him. That power, drive & energy gained him word-wide respect. Also he is known for being a sweetheart, with an innocence rarely ever seen in the industry & always had a love for children and childlike innocence (Despite it biting him in the ass later due to controversy). People adored him for that strong stage presence and kind personality.

As for me, well. You'll see!

🪷 Sagittarius (°9,°21) | 9th House

You are most adored and respected for your diversity, your creativity in storytelling & ability to branch into a wide range of professional fields/skills. People do not only associate you with one position; as you are usually a multitasking genius! Also, people respect you for your ability & drive towards advocating rights, issues and hypocrisy. You reconceptualize what others may have misunderstood & took lightly to. Activism, speaking out against exploitation & supporting social causes. This is what people respect most about you.

Ex: Melanie Martinez has Sagittarius Jupiter (°5 Leo) in the 12th house. She is most respected for her unique artistic vision, creative control, and ability to blend music with storytelling. She thrives in tackling deep themes, builds immersive worlds (through Crybaby's perspective), and stays true to her individuality/brand/vision. In all of her songs, there is always a message intentionally made to reach out to those that need it.

🪷 Capricorn (°10,°22) | 10th House

People adore you most for your talents and dedicated attitude towards your career. Like Jupiter in Aries you do not have a single bullshit bone in your body, and people can see that. People have a lot of respect for you and how you handle yourself in the professional world. Your business and strategic planning/management is something people see and admire most about you. You just know what to do i.e what's good for your image & you are very careful with how you present yourself. In other words, you know the game & how to play it.

Ex: Megan Thee Stallion has Jupiter in Capricorn (°3 Gemini) in the 2nd house. She's funny, relatable, down to earth but still holds herself & her self worth high. She's confident & smart too people and people love how she is not a quitter. She sticks to what she says & she says what she means!

🪷 Aquarius (°11,°23) | 11th House

Your unique, genuine (true to self expression) appeal & aesthetic has a way to pique people's interests. Something about your work has that distinctive flair that people associate you with. Like if you are in the music industry , it's the blend of sound that you use. If you're an artist, it's literally your art style or the exclusive pallet that you use. You have the ability to influence trends and subcultures on the internet. People love how you act the way you want and stay true to your desires & thoughts no matter what industry you are in. You also tend to challenge the norm when it comes to how a person of your status/stature should behave. Can translate to many different scenarios, from a DMV attendant being quick with their work or an older teacher acting lively & enthusiastic even though her coworkers have all lost their spark.

Ex: The best example to give is Lana Del Rey with Jupiter in Aquarius (°10 Capricorn) in the 5th house. She inspired the Sad girl/Americana Tumblr girl aesthetic back in the 2010s and had a lot of people on a chokehold for that aesthetic. Something about that vintage cinematic charm & classic Hollywood aesthetic just bodes well with the internet. Even in recent years, she was the main influence for the "Coquette" style due to her coquette-esque music. Her music is also undeniably a stand out when compared to other musicians of the time. That juxtaposition comes from her brazen attitude (& heavy smoking) despite having such a sweet angelic or ingenuous appearance/energy in her songs.

Also, note that she has a Stellium in the 11th house in her MC PC (Venus in Cancer, Mercury in Leo & Mars in Leo) which heavily contributes to that as well.

Know who else has this placement? Jungkook. Surprised? No.

🪷 Pisces (°12,°24) | 12th House

With Jupiter in this placement, people adore your dualism & mystical appeal. No one really knows what you're up to or what your intentions are behind the personas they see, but you always have a way to make people curious about you. Your sweet, shy personality also makes people fall for your charm quite easily. Your art & aesthetic is the most "eye-catching" point of interest in your career (in whatever industry you may be in one way or another). There could be a haunting ingenuity that comes with it or Venus-like influence as well. If you are a programmer, people love the depth that your work can accomplish along with the compelling cinematography. Your career/reputation could be related to spirituality as well. This makes people feel very connected to you.

Ex: This is a pretty out of place example compared to what I usually give, but Charles Manson has Jupiter in Scorpio (° 18 Virgo) in the 12th house. He is an infamous cult leader who had a lot of charisma (which inevitably helped grow his already manipulative influence). Now, I don't think it's actually something to be "respected" but he is quite famous for that trait of his. I know some freaks look up to him for that. Which really, reaaally shouldn't be the case. That Pisces -Scorpio combination is just power given to the wrong hands.

˚₊‧꒰ა paid readings available ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

🔍 Additional note

For those of you wondering if the Midheaven persona chart works the same way as the Ascendant Persona Chart, no it does not. They are vastly different. I've explained in my Ascendant Persona Chart guide & observations post about the latter but essentially; The MC PC entails your grand scheme reputation or public image (which is often tied to your career but not limited to)

While the ASC PC concerns people's perceptions of you on a personal level. In that post I mentioned, I like to say it's how your natal placements are seen through other people's eyes.

Thank you for reading ♡ support?

@northopalshore

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duvetchico · 2 months ago

Text

25 clips that had us looking like :0

summary it's jimin’s birthday, and what better way to celebrate than by dragging out every single suspiciously couple-coded thing she’s ever done with y/n?

genre crack / fluff overload / lowkey romantic documentary / "they're dating but we’re all playing dumb" energy / yu jimin turns 25

pairing yu jimin x added!member reader

masterlist.

channel: user-duvetchico

[INTRO — 0:00] hey what’s up it’s me again back with another delulu edit that may or may not be grounded in actual real evidence. today we’re counting down 25 moments between our mother jimin and the added member of aespa, y/n, who are just besties except they act like they’re already married. anyways. it’s jimin’s bday so we’re being sickeningly sentimental.

[clip 1 – 0:13] from aespa’s behind-the-scenes vlog at music bank jimin’s sitting on the floor, back against the wall, in full stage makeup but with a sleepy dazed look. y/n walks by and throws her a juice box. “what’s this?” “your personality, because u get grumpy when ur dehydrated.” jimin smiles without looking at her, pokes the straw in, and sips. “love u.”

[clip 3 – 0:28] aespa's live chat: “what are you two doing later?” jimin: “cuddling.” y/n, not missing a beat: “duh.” dead silence and then y/n bursts out laughing while jimin just sips her drink and smirks like she got away with murder.

[clip 2: 0:44] staff "karina, your mic—" jimin, already walking off “hold on i have to fix y/n’s hair first.” camera pans to her literally babying y/n, fixing her bangs and whispering "there. pretty."

[clip 3: 0:56]

aespa's live

comment: “who’s your favorite member in aespa?”

jimin: “obviously the one i sleep next to.”

camera cuts to y/n throwing a pillow at her while everyone else screams.

[clip 4 – 1:10] backstage fancam y/n’s adjusting jimin’s in-ears. jimin closes her eyes. y/n says something too quiet to hear, but jimin smiles so wide she almost forgets to go onstage.

[clip 5: 1:26]

concert footage during the ending ment, jimin lowkey leans over and whispers something to y/n. y/n nods. jimin kisses her on the cheek. yeah. fans SCREAMED.

[clip 6: 1:39] camera catches jimin tracing little hearts on y/n’s arm while she’s talking to staff. y/n doesn’t even flinch. like this is NORMAL.

[clip 7: 1:46]

q&a segment question: “who’s the most clingy?” everyone simultaneously: “jimin.” jimin: “i am NOT—” camera cuts to jimin literally holding y/n’s pinky in hers under the table.

[clip 8: 1:58]

cafe vlog jimin feeding y/n cake while saying “say ahhh.” y/n: “you’re so annoying.” jimin: “say that again after i just bought you a $7 slice of cake.”

[clip 9: 2:12]

idol room game task: “call the person you love the most” jimin immediately dials y/n. y/n picks up like “why are you calling me we’re literally in the same room.” jimin: “bc i love you. duh.”

[clip 10 – 2:30] training room y/n’s struggling with choreo. jimin just sits next to her and holds her hand. “wanna try again?” “not yet.” “ok. i’ll sit here with you.” cue soft music and hearts exploding

[clip 11 – 2:48] instagram live fan: “what do you like most about y/n?” jimin, looking up: “her heart.” y/n, offscreen: “and my ass right??” jimin: “....also that.”

[clip 12 – 3:00] concert footage during aespa’s ment, jimin’s talking, and y/n walks behind her and lightly tugs at the back of her jacket. jimin pauses, leans back a little like muscle memory, and they just stand there like that for 10 seconds before realizing 10,000 people are staring.

[clip 13 - 3:10]

random interview

jimin holding y/n’s hand during an aespa interview. she lowkey rubs circles with her thumb. they ask what jimin does to relax. “i hang out with y/n.” and everyone goes “awww” while y/n blushes hard and tries to disappear into the floor.

[clip 14 - 3:33]

award show red carpet

they’re standing side by side, hand on lower back, classic pose. interviewer: “you two are very close—any messages for each other?” jimin looks at y/n and just goes: “thank you for existing.” y/n’s face goes FULL red. “bro. you could’ve just said ‘you look nice’ like a normal person.” jimin: “no fun in that.”

[clip 15 - 3:49]

aespa behind ep, japan tour

camera pans to jimin sleeping in the van, head on y/n’s shoulder, mouth slightly open. y/n's literally just scrolling through her phone with one headphone in, unfazed.

staff voice (off-cam): “you could move her head if it's heavy.”

y/n: “nope. it’s fine. she only drooled once.”

[clip 16 - 4:01]

instagram live

y/n, half-asleep: “jimin just texted me to eat something. do i look like i wanna chew right now.”

chat: “why does she know you haven’t eaten?”

y/n: “bro she tracks me like a damn fitness app.”

[clip 17 - 4:10]

airport candid

jimin places her coat on y/n’s shoulders and walks off like nothing happened. y/n stares at the camera like “y’all saw that right.”

[clip 18 - 4:18]

concert moment

they pass the mic to y/n to talk. jimin's behind her mouthing every single word she says.

[clip 19 - 4:25]

q&a fan event

fan: “describe each other in one word.”

jimin: “mine.”

crowd: “???!!?!?”

jimin: laughs nervously “LIKE—like she’s my member. i mean. like she belongs to the group. yk?”

[clip 20 - 4:37]

fan spotted them at a café together

jimin and y/n laughing so loud jimin actually hits the table. y/n wipes whipped cream off her lip and flicks it at her.

[clip 21 - 4:49]

award show ending

jimin offers her hand to y/n to help her off stage. doesn’t let go until they reach the dressing room.

[clip 22 5:00]

concert ending

they’re waving goodbye. y/n reaches over and links pinkies with jimin. “did you have fun?” “only because you were there.” “gay.” “you love it.”

[clip 23 - 5:13]

jimin's birthday at their concert

jimin’s on stage during a concert, gets handed the mic for her birthday. she turns to y/n in the crowd. “thank you for being my person. even when i’m annoying. and weird. and obsessed with you.” y/n shouts something back. jimin laughs and covers her face. “okay stop i’m gonna cry now.”

[clip 24 - 5:20]

last night a phone cam video. the members are singing happy birthday. jimin’s about to blow the candles out when she glances at y/n. “make a wish,” y/n says. jimin: “already got it.” y/n: freakin dies

[clip 25 - 5:33]

aespa surprise live for jimin

scene opens with aeri filming the cake. arguing in the background. ningning is yelling something about lighting the candles properly. minjeong is just... eating frosting. and then—

jimin walks in, eyes all sleepy but smiling, and y/n’s already standing behind the couch like she’s been waiting for her or some shit. she immediately pulls jimin into a hug, and you hear aeri screaming in the background like “OH MY GODDDD GUYS GET A ROOM.”

they don’t even flinch. y/n’s arms are wrapped around her waist from behind, chin resting on jimin’s shoulder while jimin just leans back into it like it’s second nature. they're swaying. it’s disgustingly adorable.

then jimin turns her head slightly and says (into the mic she didn’t realize was ON) “i told you i only wanted to spend my birthday with you first...”

y/n literally freezes. everyone heard that. the silence was LOUD. ningning drops a spoon.

jimin realizes. blinks. “WAIT—THE MIC—”

minjeong collapses on the couch laughing. aeri is wheezing. live goes mess. jimin turns bright red and tries to play it off like “hahaha i meant like... metaphorically... like you... the fans... plural...”

[OUTRO – 6:00]

anyway. if they’re not dating, then i’m dating them. happy birthday to jimin, aespa’s leader, and certified simp. if they’re not really dating, then i’m deleting this video. but like… i’m not deleting shit. and for y/n.... go give your gf forehead kisses rn or i’ll do it first.

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kurooh · 10 months ago

Note

HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY 🔥🥰

I truly love your work I was wondering if you can do more MHA men and how they would be like if fem reader was famous (model, actress , artist etc) have a great rest of your day❤️❤️❤️

BEGGIN’ ON HER KNEES TO BE POPULAR ! — BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA

⊹₊˚. you’re his celebrity crush. (still, even after you started officially dating)

⟡ feat. aged up! midoriya izuku, todoroki shōto, kirishima eijirou, kaminari denki, takami keigo.

⟡ warnings: 18+ content (mdni), f! reader, some fluff, all characters & reader are 25+, quirkless/modern au, different au’s for each character, brainrot post.

⟡ xoxo, juno: omg nonnie this req is absolutely brilliant. thank you for the birthday wishes!! 💓

being a dancer/performer means your limbs are always a little achy or tight, and that’s where izuku comes in to help you stretch out. in other words, he fucks you in every position possible until you’re melting beneath him. he’ll attend all your performances and cheer, the loudest in the audience.. he’s almost gotten kicked out a few times. izuku’s always observing you, especially when you dance, and so he sweeps you into his arms after dinner, then slow dances with you.

shōto poses nude for you and sits pretty as you paint him onto your canvas, meticulously capturing the slopes and curves of his body. you’re the artist, and he’s your muse — even after years of painting him clothed or nude, he still gets hard from just your eyes on him. after a painstakingly long time spent correcting and coloring, you finally stand and give his drooling cock the attention it deserves.

denki’s a renowned singer, and you’re his groupie. despite the rumors of all the women he’s been with, you’ve come to learn that they were untrue. the second he saw you in the audience cheering, he decided to invite you backstage. then he started giving you free concert tickets to every show; it only progressed from there. so many of his fans are jealous, but he doesn’t care. if he could, he’d fuck your brains out right in front of them. denki helped make you famous by recording your voice and your moans in the studio, then he added them into his songs.

eijirou’s friends are tired of hearing about you all the time— all he does is rave about his beautiful model girlfriend and show pictures of her. he loves to participate in your social media posts and monitor the comment sections, etc. sometimes eijirou leaves one too many marks along your body (your boss hates him), or fucks you until you can barely walk just because. occasionally your instagram posts and sfw rating amps up when eijirou takes your phone and posts something a little suggestive about you two.

your most popular movie received worldwide attention, and even more when the truth about you and your costar, keigo, got out. you couldn’t escape the relationship questions all over social media or in interviews once everyone learned you’d hated each other behind the scenes, yet had unmistakable chemistry on screen. unbeknownst to the audience, you’d only maintained the chemistry with him because of some quick fucks before and after shooting. of course, it’s not like the sex stopped after filming and production— you’re still secretly seeing each other, practically dating now. your fans often ignore or wonder about the blank instagram account that likes to call you theirs in comments below your posts in response to others.

#kurooh #mha smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #denki smut #denki x reader #hawks smut #hawks x reader #kirishima smut #kirishima x reader #todoroki smut #todoroki x reader #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #deku smut #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya smut

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lizardsfromspace · 10 months ago

Text

There was lots of concern about AI and deepfakes spreading misinformation this election cycle, so let's check in on that!

A lot of right-wing accounts are trying to prove that Kamala Harris' crowds are fake - that all the photos of them are generated with AI. We'll get to that, but let's look at the most...amusing example first.

There's lots of people pointing at an image of a crowd that's obviously been generated with AI, due to extra arms and gibberish writing.

So obviously someone generated this image with AI. Who was it and why? Well, we can actually find the origin pretty easily. It was...

A right-wing satire account. Who put "unexcited Kamala Harris crowd" into a AI image generator to make a "wow, crowds are electric!" joke.

An image their own side generated as satire is now being spread by the right as something Harris/Walz created as proof they're doing the thing they're doing. Incredible. Just a masterclass

Now let's look at the dark stuff.

By and large, AI isn't being used for hoaxes. AI is being used as a excuse: people aren't being tricked by AI images, they're being tricked by accusations real images are AI.

So this hoax went around recently...

This image is old. It spread in 2017, it spread in 2020, and now it's spread in 2024. The Harris/Walz rally wasn't even in the Phoenix Convention Center, or in Phoenix. But it's now a core part of the "no one's attending their rallies!" campaign going on now

This may seem strange if you experience the news by non-conservative media, where you can't escape stories of Kamala Harris filling up massive stadiums & of Trump rallies full of empty seats. All evidence in reality points to Kamala Harris being extremely popular and to Trump's campaign faltering.

But in MAGA land, Kamala Harris' crowds were generated with AI.

Their claims: the crowd isn't in the reflection, and uh, the arms look weird. But also that there "aren't any other images".

But? There are? There was a livestream of that very plane landing (starting at 25)!

They're subjecting what they think is The Only Image of this rally in long Youtube videos and on Twitter and TikTok, and just...don't realize there's full, uncut, commentary-free video of it that was broadcast live. So why don't they realize that?

Well, I did a search for this rally on Fox News' website and guess what? They reported it exactly twice: once a interview with her while leaving that slammed her for "not taking press questions" enough, and a few clips of the Palestinian protestors at it, but not many, bc if you don't follow the far right they're trying to frame Kamala Harris as, like, a radical pro-Palestinian (or, as they say, "pro-Hamas") activist who wants to destroy Israel which, uhhhhhhhh

But another thread I found debunking this, by a former Trump-voting evangelical conservative turned critic of the same, gets at the heart of it

People who said AI and deepfakes would be used to mislead the right were missing how misinformation actually works. Fox News et al don't suppress information by confusing the audience with misinformation; they suppress information by never letting them see it in the first place. They know that they have a captive audience who doesn't watch non-right-wing news (unlike the left, who are constantly aware of what's going on over at Fox).

They can just never mention or show Kamala Harris' rallies, or do so only in close-up, and they can frame Trump to only show shots where a crowd has gathered & make it seem like that's the norm, and their audience just has no chance to find out the truth. They're so propagandized that they just accept that there are no other images of that Kamala Harris rally, because, well, they were told there weren't, and would the news personalities they trust really lie to them?

And if any stray bits of reality float into the bubble, well, it was just AI. You know, how they have AI these days? AI's most important role in all this isn't as a vector for misinformation, it's as a rhetorical device for claiming real images and video are misinformation. You don't have to make images full of people with weird hands if you can get people circling real people's hands in red and pointing at it to prove reality was made in a computer.

These people don't know how popular Kamala Harris is. They don't know she's polling eight points higher than Trump. They don't know Harris is leading in right-wing biased polls. They're being told she's hiring actors at rallies, that her crowd photos are generated by AI, that Trump rallies are popular and hers are desolate.

This only likely to increase as we near the election because, well, Trump '24 is a shitshow. His campaign started out less popular than '16 or even '20, he picked maybe the worst VP pick in history, and he hasn't made a single effective attack on Harris/Walz. They were banking on facing Biden, and then on a chaotic open convention, but instead everyone closed ranks around Harris, and she instantly became the most popular Democratic candidate since 2008. We are cruising towards Trump/Vance not only losing, but losing in the closest thing to a landslide that's possible in our current system.

They're already laying the groundwork for, in the likely case of defeat, playing the "she stole the election!" card. Last time it was ad-hoc, because Trump thought he'd win. This time, they're already making "all her rallies are fake, all of her supporters are AI, they've already rigged it against Trump" a key strategy, and, I have to assume, their primary strategy as it gets closer to election day and the polls get worse. They've always lived in a bubble, but now it's a bubble designed explicitly to cause another January 6th. By claiming real photos have weird hands, and must totally be AI

#politics #uspol #misinformation

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folkwhoreberry · 3 months ago

Note

Can u make an Oscar x reader story where they’re childhood best friends and reader is like a famous singer or something and they’ve been hinting about their relationship but no one even knew they had a connection

This was super long 😭 sorry if u don’t understand

Steering Hearts

oscar piastri x reader

or... the one where you swear you’ll be moving on with his favourite athlete

word count : 1.7k

warning : reader wrote “good graces” by sabrina carpenter, english is not my first language!!!

on the radio : good graces by sabrina carpenter

🐨☘️

sweat dripped down your forehead, but you didn’t mind it, not even one bit.

with the microphone in your hand and the blinding flashes coming from the crowd, chanting your name and lyrics as you sang, how could you?

you stood in a line with your backup dancers, singing your hit song from your latest album, ‘good graces’.

“I’ll tell the world, you finish you chores prematurely,” you sang into the mic as you danced, “break my heart and I swear I’m moving on with your favourite athlete.” and that was the line that made the crowd scream. all because of a simple hand movement you did while singing - your free hand moving in circles imitating a steering wheel.

one simple hand movement - and the internet went crazy. because you wore an orange bodysuit while doing so. and lando norris and oscar piastri just so happened to be in the crowd.

an hour later the concert finally finished, you said your final thank yous to the crowd and crew before going backstage, where you were met with your manager and assistant, handing you a bottle of water and a towel to wipe of the sweat.

“you absolutely smashed it out there!” you manager praised you, a big smile on her lips as she patted your back.

you smiled and nodded and response, too out of breath to talk. you leaned against the nearest wall and kept drinking your water, until a familiar figure appeared in the corner of your eyes, along with another person trailing behind them.

“you did amazing, love!” oscar immediately said after coming close enough to you, his arms wrapping themselves around you without caring about the sweat covering you. “aw, thank you, osc.” you responded with a smile. “hey, it’s my nickname for him!” lando said from behind oscar, to which you rolled your eyes and clicked your tongue at.

“you’re tiring, aren’t you?” oscar whispered in your ear, making you hum in agreement. he chuckled, bringing one of his hands up to play with the ends of your hair. “so should we go back to the hotel?”

——————

the next morning was a mess on stan twitter. rumours of you dating the mclaren so-called ‘playboy’ lando norris were circulating all over the internet.

there were pictures of him and oscar going backstage after the show, videos of you smiling and waving to where the two boys were during the concert, sightings of the 25 year old filming you on his phone while you performed, and of course the orange outfit you wore that night, a colour that is often associated with mclaren, lando’s team.

——————

a week had passed since then, everyone somewhat calmed down from it, only sparking when lando was asked about it in interviews.

now, it was the morning of the australian grand prix - the first race of the 2025 season, and also oscar’s home race.

the paddock was full of excitement, reporters walking around with their cameramen and microphones, fans eager to meet their idols, and the drivers just trying to peacefully get from one place to another.

and there was you - walking through the paddock with you manager, just casually talking to her and occasionally turning to wave to a camera pointed at you pf take a picture with a fan.

“miss l/n, miss l/n! is it true that you’re dating lando norris?” one of the reporters asked you, pointing a microphone at you to hear your answer. you just smirked and snickered, ignoring g the question. “then why are you wearing a mclaren jacket?”

they weren’t wrong, you were wearing a mclaren branded jacket, white leather with their logo on the back, which you wore to support you boyfriend of course. you just kept on ignoring the cameras as you made your way to the mclaren garage, which luckily was the first one out of the rest of the teams. you walked inside, where you were met with oscar, who promised you he’ll meet you at the entrance.

“hey there, love. how was the drive here?” he asks you kindly, wrapping his arm around your waist and leading you further inside, to the front of the garage. “alright, not too much traffic.”

he hummed in response, leading you to the secluded spot he prepared for you in the back of the garage to watch the race.

“I gotta go get in the car now, darling. cheer for me, yeah?” oscar said with a smile, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head before he moved aside to take his gloves and helmet, walking to the front of the garage towards the track, where the national anthem will be played before the start of the race.

the race started just minutes later, and your heart was beating with each turn oscar took and each place he gained or lost.

after almost two hours the race ended, and you were happy that your boyfriend ended the race with no missing kind of any serious injuries, not even caring what place he finished in.

you watched oscar’s car roll into the pit lane and saw him climb out. you were glad he was safe, your heart finally settling after nearly two hours of tense turns and overtakes. the mclaren garage erupted in applause, but you stayed in your secluded spot, waiting for oscar to come over.

a few minutes later, you saw him approaching, wiping sweat off his forehead with a towel. his smile brightened the moment he spotted you, and you grinned back, leaning against the wall of the garage.

“how was that?” he asked, his voice still a little breathless from the race.

“you were incredible,” you said, stepping closer to him. “I swear my heart was in my throat the entire time.”

he chuckled, pulling you into a quick hug, the scent of sweat and fuel faint on his race suit. “you’re always so dramatic,” he teased, his lips brushing the top of your head.

“I think it’s justified,” you quipped, lightly smacking his chest. “especially after that last turn. I was ready to jump on the track and drag you off myself.”

oscar laughed, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “I’m just glad I didn’t give you another heart attack. next time, I’ll make it easier for you.”

you smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before stepping back. “well, go do your interviews, mr. piastri. I’ll be waiting for you back here.”

“yeah, yeah, I know the drill,” he said, giving you a wink before heading off toward the media pen.

you found a spot near a screen in the garage to watch him and lando give their interviews. they stood side by side, casual as always, but you knew they were in for the usual bombardment of questions. sure enough, one interviewer didn’t waste time.

“lando, there’s been a lot of speculation about your relationship with a certain singer. any comment?”

lando smirked and shot oscar a sideways glance. “oh, we’re really doing this again?” he said, crossing his arms and pretending to think. “well, I can’t blame people for talking. she’s a fantastic performer, you know?”

oscar snorted beside him, shaking his head. “he’s full of it,” he added with a grin. “no relationship there, sorry to disappoint.”

they both shared a laugh, shrugging off the question as the interviewer quickly moved on to race-related topics. you had to bite back a smile as you watched the whole thing unfold. the internet was going to lose it - again.

——————

the next day, you had a concert in the same city, and once again, oscar and lando made an appearance. as the show started, the crowd was electric, and the energy only grew when you hit the chorus of your song, ‘good graces.’

“break my heart and I swear I’m moving on with your favourite athlete,” you sang, throwing in that same steering wheel motion you did at the last show. the screams from the audience were deafening, and you couldn’t help but grin at the chaos you’d created again.

you stole a glance toward the back of the venue, where you knew oscar and lando were. it was hard to miss them, even in the dim light of the concert hall. oscar had that proud, supportive look on his face that never failed to make your heart swell, while lando - well, lando was grinning like the mischievous devil he always was.

once the concert ended and the cheers died down, you headed backstage. it wasn’t long before oscar and lando followed, dodging a few cameras as they made their way through the halls.

“well, if it isn’t the star of the show,” oscar teased as he approached you, his smile lighting up his whole face.

“that’s me,” you said, still catching your breath from the performance. “did I live up to your high standards?”

“always,” he replied softly, stepping closer to pull you into his arms.

just as you leaned into him, you felt a flash of a camera, and before you could react, oscar’s lips were on yours. it was a quick kiss, nothing too showy, but the click of the camera and the flashing lights around you meant only one thing—the internet was about to go wild.

“oh great, here we go,” lando muttered from the side, raising an eyebrow at the photographers. “guess we’ll be dealing with questions about this tomorrow.”

you and oscar both laughed as you pulled apart, but deep down, you knew this was going to cause another storm online.

sure enough, overnight, the internet exploded with headlines, pictures of oscar kissing you backstage, and a new wave of speculation about your relationship. it was everywhere - your fans, his fans, random gossip accounts.

the next morning, after a quick talk with oscar, you decided it was time to put an end to the rumors once and for all. you posted a simple picture on your social media - one of you and oscar, arms wrapped around each other, lips interlocked, and of course a cheesy caption.

oscar did the same, posting a cute picture of the two of your from a random cozy night-in you had, paired with a caption you made him change three times because of how oscar-ish it was.

the response was instant - fans flooding the comments with excitement, support, and some playful teasing.

lando even chimed in, posting a candid picture of you he took with the caption “wrong papaya mate guys”.

you couldn’t help but laugh as you scrolled through the reactions. it was all out in the open now, and honestly? it felt pretty damn good.

————————————————————————————

a/n : took me so long to write it (two days lol) but oh my godddd am I a sucker for singer!reader it feeds the oc’s in my head

#folkwhoreberry #f1 #f1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x y/n #x reader

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