#ln4 x reader

You guys were sat on a wooden bench facing the view of the London eye while eating a creamy ice cream delight together. You flicker eyelashes as the sun blinds you. Max was sat there giggle at his phone like it was the most funniest thing in the world.

"What are you laughing at?" You question trying to look at his phone.

He moves his phone screen away so you don't see what he was laughing at "Nothing, Lando just sent me something fun." He looks up at you from his phone.

Raising your eyebrow in response "Whatever, it's like you are his boyfriend." You scoff while having a smirk on your face.

"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you if you wanted to hang out next week, but Lando is also coming." He says smiling towards you, knowing he could hang out with his 2 best friends. You just nod in response not bothered to say something. He just rolls his eyes in retaliation, which ends up with you guys gigging on the bench together.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You stood there in front max's apartment, the door shut, trying to prepare for what might happen being there. You had a box of donuts in your arms, the glaze making them stick together, hearing the noise inside spikes your heart a little, knowing it would be your first time hanging out with someone famous. You take a deep breath before knocking on the door. Max yanks the door, you stood there wide eyed with griping the box of donuts without realizing it.

"Yo, y/n coming in." Max smiles towards you leading the way in the apartment "Are you okay?" Pointing towards you holding onto the box.

You snap out of your head and look up at him while walking inside "Oh yeah, I just wasn't concentrating." You smile as you follow him to the living room.

You put the box down on the table as you sit down on the couch. Leaning against one of the pillows. You look out the window and you could see Lando stood there on the balcony overlooking the city. You flip your head as fast as possible. You watch as Max settles down next to you. Lando walks into the room, you don't turn around, you just hear him talking to Max about the day.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Later, it was night and Lando invited loads of people to Max's apartment that its now a house party, that you didn't sign up to. You move through the crowd, you look down at the box of donuts, now empty, clenching the cup in your hand that you had no idea what was in it. Looking up on the table, Lando was stood on it shirtless with Max sat there next to him cheering him on. It was all too much in the moment, you open your phone to check the time to see it's midnight.

You go towards the bathroom, opening the door to see a couple making out, out of shock you just close the door. Before walking into Max's room, there was nobody there.You sit down on his bed, messing with the blanket on the bed, it was soft under your hand bringing comfort to you.

In the other room, Lando was looking around the room for you but couldn't spot you, he jumps off the table, his shirt wrapped around his waist like a belt. He turns to Max.

"Hey, you know where y/n is??" He questions Max who was tipsy and trying to get off the table without falling face first.

He looks at Lando "I don't know, I just know she hasn't left." He slurring his words as he tries to support himself with the table.

Lando walks through the crowded apartment and reaches Max's room, he slowly opens the door, seeing you layed on the bed, not facing towards him. He walks inside looking down at you peacefully resting, he slides down next to you stroking your hair as you sleep, you didn't move or stir, it was calming.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You got to beach, you saw Max and Lando sat there on the sand. You sit down next to them. "Hey y/n, didn't think you would actually come." Lando smiles moving towards you. Max rolls in eyes knowing what Lando was trying to do.

"Oh yeah, it's a nice day out so I thought why not." You laugh the sun spotlighting you. Lando was making heart eyes towards you as you sit there. Max nudges him to tell him to stop before taking a swing of his beer.

ln.priv how do you tell a girl you are falling for her ig

Liked by oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell and 200 others

maxfewtrell bruh just ask her or something

| ln.priv well how

oscarpiastri hopeless romance

| ln.priv shut up oscar

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

A few days later you were sat in max's apartment scrolling on your phone trying to pass time, your legs tucked under you on the couch. Max was in the other room at his stream set up doing something, you aren't quite sure, you could just hear his voice spike up time to time. The front door flungs open, you turn your head as fast the door. Lando was stood there out of breath, like he ran across the Earth to get here. You rise your eyebrow in response. He rushes down on his knees in front of you.

"Lando? What are you doing? Are you okay? " you question as he looks up to grabbing your hands.

"I am not. I really need to tell. But I am...so in love with you, you just don't know it. I have been holding my feelings away for ages not knowing if I should ask you out or not. I was scared of asking that you would reject me. " he rattles on but before you can reply he pulls you into a kiss, your lips and his interlocking like they were meant to be. You wrap your arms around his neck while he loses his fingers through your curly hair as you both pull deeper into the kiss showing your remorse for not telling each other sooner. Your tongues meeting halfway as they were greeting each other. He was hungry for you, trying to get you closer to him almost morphing into him.

Max walks out of his room and into the living room to see you two making out. He sighs then coughs loudly to catch yours attention. You pull apart from Lando as you turn to Max and give him that awkward smile of yours.

"Finally" he sighs knowing that he doesn't have to deal with you and Lando trying to hide your feelings from each other. He walks off back into his room.

✶ date ──── Aug. 2, 2026

✶ a/n ──── Hiii, my lovelies 🫶🏻 I’m severely absent lately (not without good reason, I promise), so to cure my guilt, I’m briefly showing leg with this os that pretty much consumed my brain. Anyway, we’ll read each other very soon, because this will have a Part 2, which is currently work in progress. Until then, stay safe and enjoy the filth 💋💋

readerusername

📍 Vertigo Club, Monte Carlo

Liked by calrissi4n, maxfewtrell and others

readerusername I’m always on my #worstbehavior 💦

Comments...

user1 well, keep it going 🤤🤤 readersbff actually offensive how pretty you are ⤷ readerusername 🫶🏻 user2 obsessed 😍 readersfriend1 interesting how I couldn’t find you after this... ⤷ readerusername can’t talk here, email me readersfriend2 save some for the rest of us??? ⤷ readerusername i’m selfish :( theguyinthepic 🔥🔥🔥 ⤷ calrissi4n 🧯🧯🧯

“ＹＯＵ ＳＨＯＵＬＤ ＢＥ more careful. You’re so easy to find.”

His breath comes hot against the skin of her bare shoulders as he speaks, leaving goosebumps in its wake. She sensed him in seconds and now, Lando’s hands squeeze firmly into her waist, inviting her into his personal space from behind. He loves to make his presence felt this way, and she knows that the reason for it is because Lando likes to be a hundred percent sure her attention won’t get derailed by anything else. 

He’s here, he came, he understood. 

A knowing smile curves at her lips. She leans back to rest her head on his chest like she belongs there, and the fact that Lando indulges her antics is enough for her to keep claiming him so intimately. 

Slightly tilting her head, her cheek gently brushes his jaw as she speaks. “I wasn’t hiding.”

Lando’s jaw flexes. “Havin’ fun then, I reckon?”

“I am, now that you’re here.”

Her words are light but set heavy between his lungs, leaving him breathless for a beat. Lando knows she’s thriving in this environment, playing games while having everyone buzzing around her. Including him. Especially him, perhaps; it’s exactly why she manages so well to get a reaction out of him anytime she feels like it.

“Yeah?” Lando challenges. “So that’s why you posted that shit? To watch me run to you like a headless chicken?”

The girl hums. “Mmmaybe…”

“And who were those wankers hanging around you?” continues Lando without filter, his grip tightening a fraction.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” she laughs, turning in his arms as fluid as the music, her hands sliding up his chest to toy with the collar of his shirt.

Inhaling sharply, his gaze falls down on her. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“See, this is why you have so many fan girls, Norris,” she teases, “You’re so hot when you’re confident, even when you’re wrong.”

Her eyes meet his, sparkling with the promise of something more and, just as it always goes when it comes to her, Lando knows that more usually ends with him biting his tongue, desperately trying to keep all the frustrations in his fists. What irritates him most isn’t that he keeps on wanting her, but can’t, for the life of him, understand why. Why is she an exception to the rule? Why, despite knowing the outcome by heart, does he always finds himself circling back, helplessly drawn to the one person he can never quite ignore, no matter how hard he tries?

“Just answer the fucking question. Do you know them?”

She laughs again, louder this time, then shrugs. “No, not really… friends of friends,” she explains, her thumbs tracing lazy patterns on his neck, drawing him into the pull-push rhythm she is acutely aware that drives him mad.

There’s no label to what they do. Sometimes it’s afternoons tangled in expensive sheets, with palms resting over familiar skin. Other times it’s quick mornings before catching flights. Most of the times, it’s nights like this, when neither of them is in a hurry to reach the other because they both know that there will be a finish line at the end, regardless of how fast or slow they move.

He can’t get himself to behave when she’s like this, all elegant temptation wrapped in vulgar promise. Although she’s playing, she does it so good that he can find in himself to excuse it. It’s like she’s casting silent spells with her eyes and cursing him with her smile. It’s damn hard not to fall for it.

“Did you come alone?” it’s her turn to question him, pressing her body into his with the same normalcy as always. 

He shakes his head. “Max is upstairs with the guys to see if he can snag a table,” on the next inhale, the smell of her perfume cuts through the club’s haze, making his pulse race, yet anchoring him at the same time.

It’s rarely the same one, he’s noticed, as if she has different personas for every day of the week. Tonight, she wants to draw as much attention to herself as possible, the scent sweet and seductive, and it could make anyone follow it to the ends of the earth if it came to that.

Lando has just decided he will.

“Did you kiss anyone?” he shoots back, no preamble, the words slightly dipped in that jar of jealousy he has absolutely no right to own.

The girl blinks up at him, pretending to think about it, only to mess with him further. The bass vibrates through the floor as various bodies move around them in a blur of heat and sweat and some very questionable smell, but they barely notice any of it. His entire focus narrows down to her mouth and that glossy pout she keeps pressing together because, oh, how she enjoys torturing him.

Instead of answering, she rises onto her tiptoes to brush her nose against his in a silent ‘no’. At that, the tension in his shoulders loosens instantly, almost impossible not to perceive.

“Respect yourself, Norris,” she chuckles.

He puffs out a breath, annoyed that she sounds so pleased with the outcome of her mischief. “No such thing when you do it on purpose.”

“Only ‘cause you’re so predictable.”

Suddenly, she leans back to put some distance between them and his body reacts on instinct, following without thinking.

Her eyes flick downward at the movement, just as amused. “See?”

“Ah, don’t start,” his jaw tenses, taking his hands off her in order to put back the distance she went for.

The smile on her face fades a little, understanding that, ultimately, she will always have the last word, and that can be both a blessing and a curse. It was their agreement, after all.

There are rules, of course, though neither of them is willing to call them out loud. Rules would imply a structure and structure implies permanence, a luxury they don’t have.

For instance:

They don’t kiss hello. Their first kiss of the night only happens once they’ve decided they’re staying together.

No leftovers; if one of them has kissed someone else that night, they’re off-limits for the next 24h.

If he disappears after a race weekend and leaves her messages unopened for days, she lets him.

No marking territory. That includes: hickeys, bruises, lipstick on collars, or leaving anything behind at the other’s place.

If she decides she doesn’t want him in her bed after inviting him over, he leaves without complaint; she also never watches him leave. 

No pet names outside the bedroom. Calling each other by their last name is always their go-to in public.

If he calls at 3 in the morning and she declines it, Lando has to wait for her to contact him; no more calls, double texting, or guilt-tripping, even if it drives him half insane wondering where she is and who she’s with.

No dates, no gifts, no couple-y activities.

Last but not least: don’t make it weird.

In other words, there is no ownership in whatever it is that they’re doing. They can leave whenever they want, come back without explanation, pause and rewind, and slip into each other’s lives as if no time has passed at all. In theory, it’s mature. A carefully negotiated freedom. Respect disguised as detachment, even.

However, the story changes in practice. It becomes the kind of contract that only works when both of them are willing to suffer and push through the uncertainty of it. And because sex is so good… they are, that’s the problem. But beneath all the space they give each other, the fragility of it all is painfully noticeable: the hyper awareness that either of them could end it at any moment, and the other would have to smile, nod and pretend it didn’t feel like losing a limb.

This is exactly why she keeps playing her games. The teasing and the calculated distance serve their purpose. Digging through the rational side of her brain, significantly smaller when Lando is near, she understands that if she keeps him chasing, then she never has to ask him to stay. Lando’s only allowing it because he’s also playing his own version of the same game, giving her enough to keep the door open — things like his attention, jealousy, the soft parts — but never enough to make her believe she can ever rely on it.

Luxury. They don’t have that.

They’ve built the entire partnership around illusions, convincing themselves that choice matters more than commitment. Over time, even though they won’t mention it, they learned that people who leave themselves an exit, rarely unpack their bags completely.

“Come on, wanna dance?” she ignores his frustration, extending her arm to pull him back into her space.

Lando shakes his head, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “You know what I want,” it’s all he says, the deeper meaning of it getting right through her.

“What about Max?”

“Max also knows what I want.”

The girl laughs, playfully slapping his shoulder. “I can’t believe you told him about us, you’re so fucking annoying.”

“Well, technically, I didn’t tell him shit,” Lando defends himself, “He saw me texting you, and I just didn’t deny it when he asked if we’re fucking.”

She softens from the inside out at the way he lets out the unfiltered stream of thoughts. With her, Lando never bothers to censor or hide himself behind protective walls because, somewhere along the way, he’s decided she’s safe. 

Then, after a beat: “In that case, did you kiss anyone today?”

“I only got home a couple of hours ago,” he replies, glancing at the watch on his wrist for a few moments.

“Yes or no, Norris,” she pushes him, mostly because she needs to hear it.

He grins. “No.”

In fact, Lando hasn’t kissed anyone since the last time he kissed her, three weeks ago. Which is a lot of time, considering he’s very good at it. Not that he struggled to find willing company, there had been plenty, but between race weekends and another continent putting thousands of miles between them, the urge to shove his tongue down a stranger’s throat and/or temporarily wet his dick simply vanished.

She doesn’t need to know that, though.

“Alright,” she bites her lower lip briefly. “Yours or mine?”

One corner of Lando’s mouth tips upward as he reaches for her wrist, answering her question without words. She adopts his facial expression, smiling at the fact that, yes, is that easy for them to communicate. Instinctively, they both know it, anyway. Her apartment is much closer and they are buzzing with anticipation at the thought of touching each other as soon as possible. So, in reality, there is only one viable option.

He leads her toward the exit through the crush of bodies, between flashes of deep purple light. Once they step outside, the night air cools their senses a little. Lando releases her wrist, just in case, but she stays close, following him around the corner of the building to where his car awaits, hidden in the dark. 

Lando barely has time to unlock it, let alone reach for the handle. She moves fast, her palms finding his chest, then the thickness of his neck, curling her hands around it. His back meets the cold metal behind with a subdued thud, more startled than hurt, and before the surprise can register, she rises onto her toes to kiss him, the collision of three weeks spent convincing herself she didn’t miss this dissolving in the way the noise in her head simply falls silent.

His hands instantly settle at her waist to pull her closer, then slide lower, fingers spreading across the curve of her ass to squeeze. As a response, she whimpers against his lips, desperately searching for one of them so she could guide it between her legs. For a heartbeat, Lando simply lets her have it, breathing a sigh of relief at the thought that they’re both incredibly, absolutely, with-no-chance-of-recovery, monumentally screwed.

Satisfied, she melts into him with another quiet sound she immediately tries to swallow; it’s embarrassing how much she’s craving that exact touch.

Lando smirks into the kiss, feeling the heat of her through the thin fabric of her panties. “’s that bad you can’t even wait, hm?”

As she prepares to reply, his fingers graze her clit, making her hum instead. Her hips jerk forward while he rubs slowly over the material, savoring the way her breath stutters. She can’t help but cling to him as if the world would end if he stopped touching her right now. To assure her it won’t, Lando deepens the kiss, tongue sliding over hers, wet and skillful, one more time before he pulls back to speak.

“Get in the car and lose those panties.”

The leather seat sighs beneath her as she drops into it, fingers already hooking beneath the band of her panties. She lowers them down her thighs with impatience boiling in her veins, kicking them free until they land somewhere on the floor mat. 

Lando slides behind the wheel, one hand already turning the key as the other reaches across the console. The engine roars to life beneath them, its vibrations rumbling through the floorboards and straight to her core. His wide palm finds the bare skin of her inner thigh right away, slightly shaking, a teasing little smile playing on his lips at the same time he turns to lock his eyes on her, the intensity behind them poking a hole right through her stomach.

Two fingers slip along her folds without hesitation, parting her with intentional pressure. She’s so prematurely soaked, dripping before he’s even found her entrance. As soon as he does, the sound that escapes her throat gets lost between a whimper and a plea.

“How the fuck are you so wet?” asks Lando as he pulls out of the parking spot one-handed. His fingers gather the slick that’s coating her, then smears it all over her pussy only to prove his point. “You didn’t get any before I got back?”

The girl spreads her legs wider, one hand gripping the door handle, while the other finds his forearm, nails digging into the muscle there. Her hips roll up to meet his movements, chasing the friction with a silent whine. 

The car accelerates smoothly onto the main road. Lando’s driving is flawless even as his middle finger sinks into her heat, curling against that spot that makes her vision blur. The wet sound of it fills the interior of the car, creating a kind of noise that makes his cock twitch in his jeans. Because of course, he’s already straining, the denim pulling tight across his lap as blood rushes south. The outline of him is insistent, therefore impossible to miss, but the hand on the steering wheel never wavers. Years of training have taught him to split his focus, to keep the car steady even when every instinct tells him otherwise. Right now, the same instinct screams to pull over and bury himself inside her, because he’s pretty sure he’ll ruin his pants by the time they get to hers. 

Just as quickly, Lando decides that he’ll make it because he has to, so he adds a second finger, working them in and out with precision, keeping his thumb lightly pressed on her clit.

“Too busy. Got work. No time,” she replies belatedly, her voice breaking the short sentences in tiny fragments.

So… that means neither of them had slept with anyone else, kissed anyone else, or tried to make a move on anyone else for three whole weeks. Interesting, Lando thinks to himself.

He glances at her briefly. “Aha,” his fingers start pumping in and out slowly, the heel of his palm grinding against her clit with each tamed thrust. “And now I have to deal with you, yeah?”

“Please,” the girl cries out, her hand squeezing the door handle on her side. 

Lando is not the one to deny her anything, especially when she’s asking for it so nicely. Every time he pushes in, he slightly spreads his fingers to stretch her open, then scissors them on the way out so she feels every knuckle drag along her channel. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” Lando guarantees. “You love fucking my fingers while I drive, don’t you? I can feel how fucking tight you’re getting.”

She tries to protest, but only manages a broken moan. 

Lando smirks, his eyes trained on the road as he angles his wrist and starts finger-fucking her harder with short yet sharp thrusts that punch right against her front wall. The intensity of it blurs her vision, sparks shooting up her spine then traveling straight to her extremities. It is a dizzying sensation that numbs her entire being. A feeling she was able to experience only through Lando, and even though she doesn’t yet know how to describe it — perhaps she never will, and that’s okay — one thing is certain: she will never forget its power.

“Shit, you’re making such a mess,” he scolds her in a gravelly voice, glancing at his right for a split second. Nevertheless, Lando doesn’t slow down, just keeps working his fingers in deep, curling and twisting until every nerve ending lights up.

With her lips parted, her head falls back against the headrest, breath coming out in ragged pants. The seat beneath her is slick with her arousal, the leather shiny where she’s leaked all over it. She can feel every callus on his fingers as they slide in and out of her clenching heat; she can feel her heart in her throat. The pressure builds so fast it steals the wind out of her and, before she knows, her walls flutter, her clit throbs at the constant contact with the bridge of his palm, then it hits her without warning.

Her pussy clamps down hard around him, pulsing as she comes. She squirms into her seat, sobbing, begging, praying that the blissful feeling would never fade. For that to happen, his fingers must remain buried inside her at all times. Now, later, forever. But as the waves start to ebb, the thought of Lando pulling out makes fresh tears prick at her eyes. With a trembling hand, she reaches down to wrap it around his wrist, silently asking for more, desperate to stay full.

Her own fingers dig into the edge of the seat, knuckles whitening as she holds herself open for him. “Please, don’t,” she breathes out, “Don’t take them out.”

Lando’s eyes snap sideways the second her voice cracks the plea. His heart slams against his ribs at the sight of her all wrecked and shaking and, as the car glides to a stop at the red light, he uses the hand on the steering wheel to recline her chair. The seat whirs back with a mechanical hum, tilting her body into a deeper angle that spreads her thighs wider.

Once the brake is set, he twists easily in his seat, angling his body so he can reach her properly. The other hand joins, wrist rotating until his palm faces upward. His fingers slide out to reposition, then push back with purpose. The new technique lets the pads of his fingers drag over that spongy spot inside her, pairing the thrusts with a broad sweep of his thumb across her swollen clit. She lets out a cry, but Lando is more interested in watching the amount of wetness that keeps leaking out of her.

“So fucking pretty,” he whispers, feeling her pussy tightening with each wink. “No wonder those fuckers were all over you.”

She wants to deny deny deny, but it’s just her moans that fill the car, echoing off the windows.

Lando watches her face, then glances down at where his hand disappears inside her. “Think you can take another?”

He’s not waiting for her to reply and, maybe a bit too optimistic, Lando adds a third finger, experimentally pressing at her entrance. He’s just testing the waters first, and when he’s sure she can take it, it slides in alongside the others, making her choke on another whine that comes from deep within.

Lando groans under his breath, feeling how tight she is around three digits, how her pussy asks for more and ripples with every slow thrust. It makes him wonder how on earth did he manage to make her trust him enough to let the carefully constructed wall slip from her features, leaving only pure feeling behind. The privilege of witnessing it baffles him. His thoughts scatter, multiplying faster than he can keep hold of them. Looking at her like this makes boundaries feel strangely artificial, because no arrangement is supposed to leave a person thinking this much about the other. 

“That’s it, you’re so fucking hot,” he praises, voice thick with arousal. “Getting ready for my cock, yeah?”

The light turns green.

Green light from her, too.

He drags in a breath, forcing himself to look away before meeting her eyes, only to catch her already looking at him with the same certainty. Fuck, fuck. Her body twitches and right when she gets dangerously close to the limit, Lando slows, easing the pressure but keeping his fingers inside to feel her relaxing. He loves on her with gentle strokes through her folds, spreading the mess she’s made, only the slight flex of his jaw betraying how affected he really is. Because he already knows she’ll occupy every corner of his mind until dawn.

“Lando…” her breath catches on his name, then fractures into a shaky exhale. Lando. It tastes unfamiliar just because she never lets herself say it like this, with so much tenderness that it stops sounding like a name and starts sounding like a confession. 

He can’t handle this right now, so he goes back to what he does best: making her feel good. The same pressure comes back tenfold and, luckily this time, she has a few moments to brace herself. Her thighs shake, her hips lift more into him, and then clear fluid gushes around his fingers, splashing over his hand and soaking everything around. It runs down her ass, pooling on the leather as she squirts hard, the orgasm tearing through her very soul with brutal intensity.

“Shit, babe. You’re ruining my fucking leather,” he says, matter-of-factly, no accusatory tone in his voice. “Such a filthy little thing, holy fuck.”

Lando keeps working her through it, fingers pumping and curling even as she whimpers from overstimulation. The sight of her coming apart like this — seeing how every pulse of her cunt pushes more slick out — makes his cock throb painfully. So bad that Lando is close to reach down, unzip himself, and wrap his fist around his length to stroke in time with the wet sounds of his fingers buried inside her. Unfortunately, the car behind is already impatiently honking, prompting him to mutter a string of curses under his breath as the car starts moving again.

A few minutes later, they finally crash through her apartment door with her body pinned closely at his chest, their mouths locked in a messy tangle of tongues and teeth and heavy breathing. The slam against the frame rattles the hinges, but what makes her startle are his hands, suddenly touching everywhere at once, gripping her waist, sliding under her tank top, yanking her impossibly closer until there’s no physical space left between them. It gives her a sense of urgency, reminding her, over and over again, just how much she’s missed it. 

It? Him?

It doesn’t matter right now, really. Everything happens so fast that it’s hard to keep up with the way he spins her around the second they reach the kitchen island. She feels the roughness of his palms on her hips while he bends her forward over the marble. The skirt rides up on its own, exposing the bare curve of her ass. It’s a pretty view that makes Lando groan at the sight of her glistening folds, already used so thoroughly by his fingers and swollen from the car ride over.

“Remember the safe word, yeah?” Lando rasps, voice hoarse with need.

The girl sighs in protest. “Yes, just fuck me already.”

Noted.

One hand shoves the fabric of her skirt higher, bunching it around her waist while the other yanks his pants open. His cock springs free, the head shiny and leaking at the tip. Intentionally or not, she did a number on him with the show she put on in the car and now, Lando is way past the teasing phase. His knee wedges between her thighs, forcing them wider with a rough shove, then he lines up with no hesitation. The thick head pushes past her entrance in one hard thrust, burying to the hilt in a single stroke that makes her cry out, fingers gripping the edge of the countertop.

“Fuck, yes!” she exclaims, feeling as if she can finally breathe again. 

Her reaction doesn’t take Lando by surprise, but it catches him smiling from ear to ear. He starts pounding into her, hips snapping forward with enough force to push her forward against the island, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the apartment. Her pussy clenches around him on instinct, slick coating his shaft every time he pulls back, only to slam in again. Deeper. Harder. Gone.

The sounds are obscene and it only turns them on more.

“Just like that, fucking take it,” Lando breathes in little pants, his hand fisting her hair to yank her head back. “Talk to me, love. What do you need?”

You, she’s about to answer, but the lump in her throat only allows her to say: “More.”

Lando nods, releasing her in order to wrap both hands around her waist, his palms almost covering her entirely. The counter creaks under the force of his thrusts, her moans turning into gasping sounds. He angles his hips a few times until he finds the perfect spot inside her that makes her legs shake. 

She sobs out a curse at that, her body arching back into him as she soughs more of his cock.

“Harder, Lan,” she whimpers, “I’m close.”

The sound of her pussy sucking him bounces of the walls, a tune her apartment has heard many times before.

“Yeah, already?”

Her response is a sob of despair that invites Lando to oblige, slamming into her so hard that the entire island shifts slightly beneath them. Her walls flutter around him, the wet heat dragging him in all over again. In a thrust and a half, her orgasm crashes like a violent wave that rips a strangled scream from her throat. Her pussy convulses in tight vibrations whose sole purpose is to keep him glued to her. The release floods around his length, slick coating his balls as he keeps fucking her through it, forcing her to ride the aftershocks.

“Yes, baby, fuck. Come on, drench my cock,” he snarls, tightening his grip on her. “Shit, you feel so good. Fuuuck.”

Her vision whites out first. The kitchen island blurs into nothing, the edges of the room dissolving into a spinning haze. Her stomach drops, the floor tilts beneath her even though she’s bent over solid marble. The sensation is sickening and euphoric all at once, like being spun too fast on a carnival ride while her fucked-out pussy keeps spasming around him. She tries to open her eyes wider, but the dizziness only intensifies, forcing her lids shut as the world spins and rocks and bends.

Her hearing is next, vanishing into a ringing void. She’s still aware of the wet slap of skin, even her own breathing, but it all sounds as if she’s on the bottom of a pool.

Lando’s hips stutter, then slam forward one final time. Thick ropes of cum shoot deep inside of her, filling her already sloppy hole until it leaks around his cock, dripping down on her thighs in sticky trails. He keeps grinding through it, making sure to push until the last drop, while her walls now quiver weakly around him.

It goes like this for a solid minute after Lando collapses on top of her. His chest presses against her back, burning hot, sending her thinking of all the times she felt his crushing weight like this. Her body feels light as a feather pinned beneath him, the only anchor she can count on to keep her at the surface of her own feelings. 

Fluids continue to seep out, hot and messy, but she can’t bring herself to tell him to move yet, even though she needs him to. She needs Lando to move immediately. He needs to pull out, tuck himself back into his pants and get the fuck out of her apartment. This is too good and she can’t afford the fall. 

She has spent months convincing herself she could separate wanting from needing, pleasure from attachment, intimacy from consequence.

In a split-second, she went from needing-pleasure-intimacy to wanting-attachment-consequence.

The thought strikes with such force that it hollows her out. Then, panic slips beneath the fading bliss. It’s cold and immediate and so against their casual arrangement. They are supposed to leave each other exactly as they found one another: untouched in every way that mattered. But tonight, for some reason, the tectonic plates began to move, and she knows in her soul that she can’t shift them back.

ＳＨＥ ＦＩＮＩＳＨＥＳ ＴＨＥ last bite of her waffle curled into the corner of the couch, one knee tucked beneath her. The morning sun filters through the half-drawn curtains in pale ribbons that warm the apartment. It’s not as nice as Lando’s, but it’s much quieter, even with the television murmuring in the background. 

He sits beside her, one arm draped lazily across the back of the couch, his coffee balanced on his knee.

“You’re gonna spill it all over my carpet,” she warns him, but Lando is too busy glancing down when she shifts, his gaze catching on the faint bruise blooming on the bare skin of her thigh where her oversized sleep shirt has ridden up.

His expression changes almost imperceptibly, that teasing light that usually lives behind his eyes softening into a contemplative concern. Without thinking twice, he puts the cup back on the table, (not because she told him to), then turns to reach out. His fingers barely make contact as the tips brush the edge of the love mark, so careful that it has the potential to translate into an apology, if she didn’t know better.

The action is impossibly gentle, as though he’s afraid pressing any harder might send her tumbling in a tearful heap onto the floor. 

Looking up at her, his thumb stills. “You’d tell me if I hurt you, wouldn’t you?”

Caught off guard, she opens her mouth to say something, but the words stop in her throat, goosebumps racing across her skin. She’d grown used to people treating tenderness like an afterthought. The fact that he acts so soft now is just as contrasting with the way he went down on her to leave that mark only a few hours ago. 

She shifts closer until she’s facing him properly. “You can’t hurt me. Not like this,” she assures him, slowly climbing into his lap as if to prove a point. Her hands find his shoulders, then drift upward to rest loosely around the back of his neck, her fingers absentmindedly combing through the hair at the nape. “It just confuses me a little,” the girl admits.

“What confuses you?”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to leave any traces, Lan,” she reminds him, half in jest, half in earnest.

The corner of his mouth curls a little, excitement slowly replacing the seriousness that had clouded his features moments before. 

“Lan?” he repeats the nickname, one eyebrow lifting in wonder.

“Yeah, Lan…” she breathes out, rocking her hips gently. “I assume you didn’t insist to come all the way back just to bring me breakfast, did you?”

Because that would be weird, and they both know it. They can’t be weird about it, it’s in the Rules. So, the breakfast must be just an excuse. They know what inevitably draws him back to her and vice versa. Being with Lando requires so little effort that she’s not even trying. A part of her brain tells her that it should feel complicated, because they were friends first. Instead, it feels disarmingly simple and easy and mundane and normal, and even the text conversation they’d had earlier was the most effortless she’d had with a man in months.

Months!

While keeping his eyes on hers, Lando’s fingers start working the button of his jeans open. He drags the zipper down, avoiding to even blink as he reaches inside to pull his cock free; it always looked better in the morning light, she thinks, heavy, flushed dark at the head, the vein running along the underside visibly pulsing. He wraps a hand around the base, gives it one stroke, then his other palm slides up her bare thigh in a silent signal that dictates her exactly what to do next: she lifts her hips, the couch cushion dipping beneath her knees, impatient to go along with the way he chooses to respond.

Lando angles his cock upward automatically, rubs the blunt head through her folds, first forward, then backward, then notches it at her entrance. The pressure alone makes her breath catch in her throat. He pushes, and the fat crown stretches her open, forcing her walls to yield around the grith, still sensitive from last night’s shenanigans. At last, she manages to inhale to capacity as she sinks down an inch. She feels the ridge catch inside her, but has to rise again to ease the burn before dropping lower. Each careful descent drags another thick inch into her until her thighs finally meet his and she’s seated to the root. 

A small whimper escapes her lips, which Lando claims gently, just like that, to encourage her.

As if it’s muscle memory, her pussy twitches around the length, clenching greedily at the way he fills her. The physical connection feels somewhat different this time; they both sense it in the way they hold each other, resting their foreheads against one another.

“You with me, baby?” Lando whispers, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth.

The girl answers with a slow roll of her hips, griding down so the head nudges deeper. The motion drags her inner walls along his length, slick and tight and warm, and it’s almost too much for Lando, whose fingers tighten on her waist possessively as if he has something to prove too, thumbs hooking at her shirt to reveal her collarbone.

“Can I?” he asks for permission, mostly to establish the fact that the bruise between her thighs was, indeed, an accident, but the one he’s about to suck on her skin is not.

She nods, then Lando’s mouth seals over the spot above. He sucks hard, tongue pressing flat, teeth grazing skin until the bruise blooms red. She keeps moving on top of him, lifting and dropping in a solid rhythm, stretching herself wide around his cock again and again, her arousal coating him whole, claiming, dripping down his shaft to soak the open fly of his jeans. 

For the first time since they started doing this, the sounds they’re making are barely audible. It’s like they’re afraid not to break. It’s never like this, never tame and controlled, as if… as if they’re doing the opposite of fucking, which is making love. Which they’re most definitely not. 

Lando groans silently into her neck after that, the little buzz traveling straight through her. His hands slide lower, gripping her ass in order to guide her into deeper strokes. All the cells in her body light up when he pushes back in, the head catching at her entrance before pulling just as deep again. Her clit rubs over the base of his cock on every downstroke, causing repeated sighs to abandon her mouth. 

A hand slides up the curve of her spine until his palm cups the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair to hold her exactly where he wants her. He hauls her mouth down to his, lips parting wet and messy, tongues sliding together in clumsy pecks that are more shared breath than actual kisses. When she tries to pull back for air he follows, keeping her close, the slick sound of their so-called-kiss filling the tiny bubble they’ve build around themselves.

“Lando, please…” she trails off, unsure what she’s even asking for anymore.

Something, anything, as long as it includes him.

Lando lets out a sigh of understanding. “Myeah, I feel you, baby,” the words vibrate straight into her mouth. His hand drops to her ass again, gripping as he rocks her back down onto his length. “You like riding my cock that much?”

She can only moan his name again, lightheaded from the stretch and the heat and the way he keeps her entire body pinned to him.

“You do,” he replies for her, “Fucking hell, you’re so good at it,” continues Lando, panting. “So good you’re gonna make me come, baby, fuck.”

Her thighs shake with the effort, burning from the pace, but she can’t stop. And Lando’s grip reminds her exactly why she can’t: it feels too damn good and just him helping her slam down faster, harder, the wet slap of her cunt taking everything he has to offer has the power to undo her in a split-second.

“Lan,” she gasps, tugging at his curls as sweat slides down her spine, legs trembling with exhaustion.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he promises and, in one sudden motion, he flips her onto her back. 

She inhales sharply at the shift, at how easily he manhandles her, at how much it makes her clench around him because it’s so fucking hot and she’s never been this turned on in her life. 

Next, Lando hooks her thigh over his arm, plants one foot on the floor for leverage, then drives back inside her with hard thrusts, determined to get them both as high as humanly possible. 

“Oh, fuck,” she clings to him, head tipping back as relief floods through her. For the hundredth time in the last twelve hours, she’s not on planet Earth anymore. He takes her to a whole another dimension, introducing her to new ways of perceiving and using her senses. More intense and clearer than ever. 

“Shit, fuck, fuck,” Lando starts mumbling, so close to losing himself. “I’m gonna come, baby. Tell me where you want me,” his jaw tenses, voice cracking as his whole body starts to shake. 

Her arms wind around his shoulders, also trembling from the effort, fingers digging into the damp curls at the back of his head. “Right there,” she encourages him, “Keep it all inside.”

He reacts like the words physically hurt him, his thrusts turning short and frantic. He fucks into her a couple more times then he buries himself and stays there, every inch pulsing as he spills exactly where she wants him to. She can instantly feel the warmth, the sensation so intimate it makes her eyes sting. It brings her peace and hope and all the things they’ve pushed away, because they’re friends and they won’t ever let anything come between them. Even if that meant giving up the mind-blowing sex they obviously have together.

The warmth keeps spreading, leaking out around his cock with tiny twitches of his hips. The sounds he makes now are simply delicious: sharp, broken gasps that melt into throaty moans he can’t hold back. His body jerks with each spurt, and she holds on to him through every second of it, thighs quivering around his waist.

Lando doesn’t pull out immediately, but stops to lower himself over her, one knee still braced on the couch, the other foot on the floor, his softening cock nestled inside her, where it should stay for the rest of his days.

She reaches up, cupping his jaw, ready to pull him into another kiss when his phone starts ringing from the jeans tangled around his thighs. Lando’s expression shifts while fishing for the phone. He manages to answer on the fourth ring, his professional tone kicking in record time, making her silently giggle.

He keeps the same serious voice even as he carefully eases his cock out of her, cum spilling out, trickling down her ass and onto the couch. With one hand on her hip, Lando’s thumb strokes soothing circles while talking, promising whoever’s on the other end that he’ll be there — wherever there might mean — by twelve. He’s calm and controlled, but his eyes never leave hers, the intensity behind them telling her everything she needs to know.

At least for now.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” says Lando. “Of course, I’ll see you then. Cheers, mate,” he ends the call, flopping back onto the couch to pull up his pants. 

She closes her thighs together, but doesn’t sit up, content to look at him through her eyelashes. “Are you leaving?”

Lando nods reluctantly. “I’ve got to film a YouTube video with this brand,” he explains, flashing her an apologetic smile. His gaze lingers on her face for a moment longer than necessary, reading all the subtle changes he’s not sure she even realize she’s making. 

His palm finds her shin first, warm on her skin as he traces upward, the gesture enough to appear both casual and purposeful, depending on which version each of them prefers. Lando’s hand pauses briefly at her knee then, he bends to press a kiss on the same spot.

“Am I seeing you tonight?” asks Lando, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach, straightening his back as he looks around for his keys on the coffee table.

She props herself onto one elbow, watching him with an expression she doesn’t bother hiding this time.

Of course, the grin spreading across her face tells him.

Fighting one of his own, Lando points at her with the keys. “Go clean up.”

Her jaw drops a little. “Go fuck yourself.”

“You do it better,” he says right before rushing out the door, letting it shut behind him.

She can finally hear the TV again, but a cold silence settles back into her apartment and, despite every instinct telling her to run in the opposite direction instead of spinning in place, she can’t remember the last time she’d felt this happy.

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

Thank you for reading!

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

'hm? what kind of question is that?’ you ask, chuckling like this is funny.

it’s not, that’s the thing. it’s not fucking funny and lando feels like he’s going to burst into flames at just the thought of you going to someone else. he should keep his mouth shut, but he can’t, now when he watches you get dressed up so prettily, not when he can still see his fingerprints on your hips, not when you’re so close and yet so far away and not when you’re not his, at all. 'a normal question. can’t i ask one?’

this makes you pause. you turn, raising your eyebrow. 'then ask one in a normal tone. i don’t owe you any answers, lan. why are you suddenly acting like you’re my boyfriend?’

it’s deserved, lando thinks. you two have been at this whole 'friends with benefits’ thing for so long that after some time lines started to blur at least for him. hanging out with you turned from pure fun and nothing serious to the highlight of his days; you started occupying his mind all the time, thoughts of you hunting him even in his sleep. he almost wants to laugh: isn’t it always the girl not being able to hold the boundary in this scenario? isn’t it always the girl falling hard, while guy can’t care less? how come on him the tables have turned?

'it’s just a question, jeez.’ he tries to deflect, sitting up. his body is plesantly sore after what you two did in the bed and he wants you back with him, not dressing up to go wherever you’re going. 'is it that hard to answer? i just want to know where you’re going, with who.’

he’s ruining it, he knows. he knows and yet he can’t stop it. he knows he needs to change his tone or at least work on his facial expression, but he fucking can’t. what if you’re going on some date with another guy? what if-

you step closer to him, angry. 'you always do this, you know? deflect whenever you actually have to own up and be honest. what kind of bullshit- since when you’re interrogating me? where, with who? why do you care?’

'i don’t care,’ lando instantly says out of habit even though it’s the furtherest thing from the truth. he cares so much that it’s becoming a problem.

'fucking liar,’ you spit out, eyes blazing. 'that’s it then? you don’t care and that’s why you’re asking where am i going and with who?’

maybe he should admit it. maybe he should come clean but the fear of rejection and losing you is too strong. what if lando is the only one with these feelings? what if you don’t care about him past a simple fuck buddy? what if you leave him broken hearted? he waits, saying nothing. your gaze on him is heavy, it cuts deep, looks into the bottom of his soul and-

'such a coward,’ you mutter in disdain.

you hastily grab your bag and start tying your shoelaces, readying to leave. and it’s time to say something, to make you stay, to come clean but lando is frozen and he doesn’t say anything when you storm away from his apartment, loudly smashing the door closed on your way out. he stays unmoving, realizing that maybe right now he just lost you either way.

2.

the silence after you left is so loud that it rings in lando's ears. it takes him few moments to unclench his fists and exhale - he haven’t even recognized he’s been holding his breath. his heart rabbits against his chest and seungcheol swallows, running his hand through his hair. he did it. he actually did it. he lost you.

‘shit.’ lando’s hands shake. gripping his bedsheet, he twists until it tears. ’shit!’

the look in your eyes when you left - is lando crazy or did your eyes scream at him to not let you go? did he imagine this hope flickering in your irises, did he make up the slight pause before you smashed the door close? was it all just his vivid imagination or?

'pick up,’ he mumbles, dialing your number. his fingers shake a little from how hard he’s gripping his phone. 'pick up, c'mon.’

when you don’t answer he calls again. and for the third time too until you don’t answer the phone with an angry: 'what?’

'where are you?’ lando asks, standing up and grabbing first pair of jeans from the closet. 'send me your address, now.’

'why? what for?’

your voice is full of venom and norris can’t blame you for that, but he also hears… vulnerability. your voice waivers just a tiny bit, but it’s enough for lando to launch for it like a dog to the bone. 'because we need to talk. because you are right, i’m a fucking coward but i want to make it right. so tell me the address, please.’

waiting is a horrible affair and it turns catastrophic when you mutter: 'too late, lan.’

lando stares at the screen where cancelled call sign mocks him and almost throws it on the wall. too late, you said. but is it really? if you really didn’t want him then you could’ve just not pick up the phone, block his number and tell him to go to tell. but this slight tremor in your voice when you told him that it’s too late… lando quickly puts on some sweatshirt, sneakers and heads out of his house. you couldn’t possibly go very far and there’re not that many options for you to go here if only you didn’t take a cab. with a single minded determination lando enters every single little shop he finds on his way and every coffee spot to check whether you are there or not. his heart drops somewhere low in his stomach whenever he can’t find your pretty frame and by the time it’s been twenty minutes, he feels like he’s running out of time and chances. lando is half ready to just start shouting your name on top of his lungs, when he spots you walking out of the bakery fifteen steps away from him.

'go ahead,’ you say kindly to the little kid, holding the door open for him. he smiles up at you, saying 'thank you’ and you respond with a small smile of your own: 'you’re very welcome.’

lando pauses, just taking you in. even from the distance he can see the crestfallen expression on your face, the defeated slump of your shoulders, your red-rimmed eyes. you’re holding one take-away bag and lando knows that he will find your favorite red velvet cupcakes inside and maybe banana pudding too - your go to choices for when you’re not in the mood. the fact that he knows this makes him rush to your side.

'wha-’ you startle, noticing him. your eyes go wide and you clutch at the take-away bag. 'what the- lando? what are you doing here?’

'i told you, i want to make it right.’ lando breathes out. his heart is going to jump out of his chest. 'i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry, baby, plea-’

'don’t call me that,’ you interrupt, frowning. 'i’m not your baby.’

the way you’re holding yourself makes lando want to cry. you’re looking at him like he’s your enemy, like any action of his is going to hurt you and it breaks his heart. but he can also see in your eyes that you’re done. there’s infinite sadness in the most beautiful pupils in front of him and he knows he’s the reason for it and he is going to make it right.

'but you are,’ he argues, taking one step closer. you don’t look like you’re going to run away and he counts this for a win. 'you are my baby.’

'since fucking when?’ you question. 'did epiphany-’

'since always, but i’m an idiot,’ lando interrupts. he knows he’s running on a very tight timings and you can simply walk out any second now, so he pushes fast: 'i like you. i want you. not just- i am so fucking jealous of someone else having you like i do, of someone else taking your time that i just. i’m sorry. i was never sure if you also wanted me more than just this fuck ass friends with benefits thing, so i never said thing because again, you were right, i am a coward. i am a coward, but i want you, i need you. i think-’ lando takes a deep breath, forcing himself to be honest: 'i think i can make you very happy. if you let me.’

he can see the doubt in your face. can see how much you want to believe him and how scared you are to do so. can see how your bottom lip trembles, how your eyes shine with unshed tears. lando may be an idiot, but even he knows that there’s only one right thing to do in this moment - he hugs you tight and let you sob right in his shoulder.

'i’m sorry,’ he repeats softly. 'i’m sorry, so sorry, baby. you are my baby, my best girl. i’m so sorry.’

lando knows it isn’t enough. knows he has to work hard to gain your trust back and he’s willing to do it, willing to beg and wait patiently until you give him a chance. but having you in his arms again, having you not arguing when he calls you his baby… it’s enough. for now. and he will make sure to turn everything around in the future.

a/n: i feel so bad to the anon who requested this almost a month ago :( so sorry for being late!! hope this is still fine :( let me know! - nini

The peace doesn't last.

It never really does.

Not when the internet exists.

By the following week, Lando is everywhere.

Not in her life.

Just on her phone.

Every other video seems to be him climbing onto another yacht somewhere impossibly blue, sunglasses balanced on his nose, surrounded by people she doesn't recognise.

Influencers.

Models.

Content creators.

People filming every second of every day.

Asteria isn't even looking for him.

The algorithm simply decides she should.

One clip.

Then another.

Then another.

"Lando spotted in Ibiza."

"Lando enjoying the off-week."

"Summer with friends."

Comments fly past faster than she can read them.

He's finally living his best life.

He deserves to have fun tbh.

Party boy lando is so back 😭

He's healed.

She scrolls.

Scrolls.

Scrolls.

Until she stops on a video someone stitched together.

Old photos.

New photos.

Comparisons.

How much he'd changed over the last year.

The smile looks different now.

Less...

Grounded.

She can't explain why she thinks that.

Maybe she's imagining it.

Maybe she just knew him too well once.

Then another video appears.

Not about him.

About the girl.

His ex.

The comments are almost worse.

People picking apart everything.

Who left who.

Who moved on first.

Who deserved better.

Asteria watches for maybe twenty seconds before locking her phone.

She remembers what that feels like.

Strangers deciding your relationship for you.

Inventing conversations they'd never had.

Creating villains because real life is apparently too boring.

She sighs.

Then, almost without thinking...

She opens instagram again.

Finds the girl's account.

Hits follow.

That's all.

No message.

No comment.

Nothing weird.

Just...

A quiet moment of sympathy from someone who understood exactly what public heartbreak looked like.

She forgets about it almost immediately.

The internet doesn't.

"Have you looked at Instagram today?"

Aster asks from across the breakfast table.

Asteria doesn't even glance up from buttering toast.

"No."

"You should."

"I don't want to."

"You really should."

Auria looks up from her coffee.

"What happened?"

Aster slides her phone across the table.

"So..."

Asteria looks.

Immediately regrets it.

One of those Formula One gossip pages.

Millions of followers.

A screenshot.

Nothing more.

Her profile.

The other girl's profile.

A single red circle around the word Following.

The caption reads:

Fans have noticed Lando's baby mama now follows his ex on Instagram... thoughts? 👀

"Oh, for God's sake."

Asteria drops her head into one hand.

The comments are already unbearable.

Girlhood.

Maybe they should start a support group lmfao.

That's embarrassing.

Noo wait that's actually kind of sweet.

Imagine your baby mama and your ex becoming mutuals 😭

She locks the screen.

Slides the phone back.

"I hate the internet."

Aster laughs.

"I thought it was funny."

"It isn't."

"It kind of is."

"It really isn't."

Across the table, Auria is trying, and failing, not to smile.

"You accidentally started gossip."

"I followed a girl."

"Mhm."

"I felt bad for her."

"I know."

"That's literally it."

"I know."

Aster reaches for another piece of toast.

"You've got people making conspiracy theories already."

"I don't care."

"You absolutely do."

"I don't."

"You looked offended."

"I was offended."

"There we go."

Asteria groans dramatically.

"I miss when nobody knew who I was."

"You dated one of the most famous racing drivers in the world."

"I know."

"And had his child."

"I know."

"And now you're pregnant again."

Asteria points a knife at her.

"Careful."

Aster raises both hands.

"I'm just saying."

Auria finally gives in and laughs.

"To be fair..."

She grins over the rim of her mug.

"...that is objectively funny."

"It isn't funny."

"It'll be funny in five years."

"I doubt it."

"You'll laugh eventually."

Asteria shakes her head.

"No."

"...Probably."

The strangest part is...

She doesn't actually miss him as much anymore.

Not in the desperate, aching way she had a month ago.

Home has done something to her.

The children are always around.

Gianna barely asks about him now.

She's too busy chasing cousins through fields.

Too busy convincing her grandfather every horse secretly belongs to her.

Too busy existing in a world that doesn't revolve around airports and race weekends.

And because Gianna isn't asking...

Asteria isn't answering.

His name comes up less.

His absence feels...

Quieter.

Not smaller.

Just...

Less constant.

Sometimes she catches herself going an entire afternoon without thinking about him.

Then she remembers she's carrying his baby.

And the silence comes rushing back all over again.

The call comes on a Thursday.

Ordinary enough that Asteria almost doesn't remember the date afterwards.

The whole family is at the main house again.

Not for any particular reason.

They rarely need one.

Dinner somehow grows from six people into fifteen every time someone says, "Just stay for a bit."

Children weave between chairs.

Atlas and her father are halfway through a discussion about two new horses arriving the following week, disagreeing over bloodlines like it's a matter of national importance.

Asteria only half listens.

She likes hearing them talk.

It reminds her that not every conversation has to change someone's life.

"...I'm telling you," her father says, cutting into another piece of roast. "The mare has an exceptional temperament."

Atlas shakes his head.

"The stallion throws better foals."

"They're not breeding stock."

"They could be."

"They're certainly not if you keep buying geldings."

Asteria smiles into her plate.

"You two have had this exact conversation six times."

"Because he's wrong," her father replies.

"I'm not."

"You are."

Before Atlas can defend himself again—

Her phone buzzes.

Face down beside her plate.

She glances at the screen automatically.

Then freezes.

Lando.

Video calling.

For a second she simply stares.

Like seeing his name somehow feels stranger than it should after weeks of silence.

Auria notices immediately.

Her eyebrows lift.

Asteria doesn't move.

The phone continues vibrating against the table.

Then it stops.

She lets out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding.

Atlas looks between the sisters.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah."

Too quickly.

"Just spam."

Auria looks at her.

Says nothing.

The conversation around the table picks back up almost immediately.

Her father is already talking about fencing costs again.

Asteria flips her phone over.

Screen black.

Gone.

She tells herself she'll deal with it later.

Then it lights up again.

This time...

A voice call.

The vibration seems louder now.

Louder than the conversation.

Louder than the clinking cutlery.

Louder than her own heartbeat.

Auria glances down.

Their eyes meet.

"GO", Auria mouths.

Asteria stands almost immediately.

"Sorry," she says quietly.

"I'll be back."

Nobody questions it.

She slips out through the kitchen, past the pantry, and onto the back porch before answering.

The cool evening air hits her instantly.

She presses the phone to her ear.

"...Hello?"

There's half a second of silence.

Then—

"Finally."

His voice.

Exactly the same.

Like no time has passed at all.

"I've been trying to get hold of you."

Asteria leans against one of the porch posts.

"I know."

"You declined the video call."

"I was eating dinner."

"Oh."

A pause.

Then, immediately—

"Where's Gigi?"

No hello.

No how are you.

No I've missed you.

Just...

Where's Gigi?

Asteria can't help smiling to herself at the irony of it all.

"She's outside somewhere."

"Outside?"

"With her cousins."

He goes quiet for a second.

"The ones on the farm?"

"Mhm."

"I can hear children."

"About nine of them."

He laughs softly.

"Sounds chaotic."

"It usually is."

"Can I talk to her?"

Asteria looks out across the fields.

From where she's standing she can just make out a group of children racing across the grass toward the stables, their laughter carrying through the evening air.

Gianna is somewhere in the middle of them.

Tiny.

Happy.

Completely impossible to catch.

"Honestly..." Asteria says with a small laugh, "she probably wouldn't even answer to me right now."

Lando chuckles.

"That bad?"

"She's forgotten I exist."

"I doubt that."

"She's got cousins now."

"Ouch."

"They've replaced both of us."

"I don't believe that for a second."

Asteria smiles.

"I'll call you back before she goes to bed."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Alright."

A small silence settles between them.

Neither hangs up.

Neither seems particularly eager to.

Finally, Lando clears his throat.

"So..."

Asteria waits.

"...How've you been?"

The question lands strangely.

Almost awkward.

Like they're strangers trying to remember how conversations work.

She watches the sun sink lower over the fields.

"I've been alright."

"You sound alright."

"I am."

Another pause.

"And you?"

He laughs quietly.

"I'm surviving."

She almost asks what that means.

Instead she says,

"I've seen."

Silence.

Longer this time.

Then...

"Oh."

He knows exactly what she means.

The yachts.

The parties.

The endless photos.

"I can explain."

Asteria closes her eyes for the briefest moment.

"I didn't ask you to."

Another silence.

This one heavier than the last.

Neither of them realises yet...

That this conversation is about to become something neither of them expected.

———

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