✒️ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ʜᴇʀ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1: ᴄᴏʟᴅ ʜᴀɴᴅꜱ, ᴡᴀʀᴍ ʟɪᴇꜱ ✒️
ꜰ1 x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪꜱ ᴀᴜ | ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ + ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ + ʀᴇᴅᴇᴍᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ⚠️ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:
ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄ ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ (ᴇxᴘʟɪᴄɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ, ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴀᴜᴅɪᴇɴᴄᴇ)
ɪɴꜰɪᴅᴇʟɪᴛʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʙᴇᴛʀᴀʏᴀʟ
ᴅᴇᴘɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ɢᴜɪʟᴛ, ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ɴᴜᴍʙɴᴇꜱꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴꜰʟɪᴄᴛ
ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴄᴇᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ᴀ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ
ꜱᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
ᴇxᴘʟɪᴄɪᴛ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ
The sheets were tangled, damp with sweat. Her hands gripped the edge of the headboard, knuckles pale from tension. The sound of skin against skin echoed faintly in the dimly lit hotel room, sharp, rhythmic, feral. Breaths came ragged, desperate, filling the space with heat and nothing else.
Lando's hand curved tightly around her hip, his fingertips sinking into flesh like it would help him find meaning in the friction. But there was none. Only sensation. No tenderness in the way their bodies moved, just a hunger trying to devour itself.
She moaned shamelessly, dragging her nails across his back. “Fuck, Lando—don’t stop.”
He didn’t reply. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding as he kept thrusting into her, a brutal rhythm that held no intimacy. It was raw. Mechanical. Needed. Not because he wanted her, but because she was here.
Her lips found his throat, desperate for a kiss he never gave. She whispered his name again, like it was a spell, like saying it would make this more than what it was.
He hated that. Hated the way his name tasted in her mouth. Hated how he still needed this every now and then, like a wound he couldn’t stop picking at.
He was close. His breath hitched, body straining. And then, he stopped.
Just like that.
He pulled out, sharp and abrupt, a grunt of frustration falling from his lips as he sat back on his heels, chest heaving. Her moans of protest was immediate.
“What the hell?” she gasped, blinking up at him. Her legs dropped onto the mattress with a dull thud. “You didn’t finish—”
“I know.”
Her brows knit together. “You were almost there. Why the fuck would you pull out?”
He didn’t answer her. Instead, he stood up, grabbing his jeans from the floor without even glancing her way. His body, still flushed and glistening, looked tense, like he hated himself for what had just happened.
“You’re seriously going to walk out now?” she hissed. “We’re not done.”
“We are,” he said coldly, slipping his shirt over his head. “You got what you wanted.”
“I wanted you to finish,” she growled. “Not just leave like some—”
He turned then, finally meeting her eyes. “This was never about you. Don’t make it more than it is.”
The sharpness of his tone stunned her for a beat, but she recovered quickly. “You’re such an asshole,” she spat, the sheets still draped around her body.
“Yeah,” Lando muttered, snatching his phone off the nightstand. “I know.”
And with that, he walked out, shutting the hotel door behind him with a dull click.
The streets of Monaco were quiet at this hour. Streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement as Lando drove through the curves he knew by muscle memory. The city glowed in its nighttime hush, beautiful and indifferent.
He didn’t listen to music. Didn’t open the windows. The silence was heavy, pressing down on him like guilt he hadn’t decided to claim yet.
She would be asleep by now.
His hands tightened around the wheel.
She always waited up if he was late. Even when she said she wouldn’t. She was that kind of wife, loyal in the quiet, invisible ways. A soft presence he’d taken for granted more times than he could count.
And still, she had no idea.
By the time he pulled into the underground garage of their shared apartment, Lando’s heartbeat had steadied. The high had faded, replaced by the dull sting of familiarity. The weight of choices. The taste of someone else’s lipstick still lingering at the edge of his mouth.
He didn’t stop to look at himself in the mirror when he entered the elevator. Didn’t need to. He knew what he looked like, guilt stitched into his jaw, shame coiled in his shoulders.
The door to their apartment creaked softly when he pushed it open.
Dim lighting spilled from the hallway lamp, just enough to see her curled up on the couch, blanket half-draped over her body, a book resting forgotten on her chest.
She had fallen asleep waiting for him again.
Lando’s throat tightened. For a moment, he just stood there, watching her. Her hair was tousled, one hand still curled near her face. She looked peaceful. Honest.
God, she had no clue what he’d just done.
He quietly kicked off his shoes, padded across the wood floor with practiced silence. She stirred at the sound of his jacket brushing the coat rack.
“Lando?” her voice was soft, thick with sleep. She blinked up at him, eyes adjusting to the low light. “You're home.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Sorry I got in late.”
She sat up, rubbing her eyes. “It’s okay. I figured you had meetings or, media stuff.”
He hated how easily the lie fit into her narrative. How quickly she rationalized his absence.
He nodded, walking closer. “Yeah. Just a long day.”
(Y/n) smiled, small and genuine, and held out her arms. “Come here.”
He hesitated for a heartbeat, just a blink of hesitation, before sitting beside her and letting her wrap herself around him. She buried her face in his neck, her warmth seeping into his cold skin.
“I missed you,” she whispered, fingers gently grazing his arm.
Lando swallowed. “I missed you too.”
A lie.
But he said it softly, because she deserved softness.
“I kept your dinner warm,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “It’s in the oven. Want me to get it for you?”
“No. Just stay here.”
She hummed contentedly, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Okay.”
Silence settled between them. The kind of silence that only existed in long-term relationships, the peaceful kind, the steady kind. But for Lando, it wasn’t peace. It was pressure. Every beat of her heart against his chest felt like a question he couldn’t answer.
She looked up at him, eyes warm. “Do you wanna shower first? Or maybe I’ll run a bath for you.”
He shook his head. “No. I’m good.”
“You sure? You look tired.”
He smiled faintly. “I’m just glad to be home.”
That wasn’t entirely a lie.
Because with her, everything slowed down. Everything softened. There was no rush of lust. No sharp edges. Just the quiet hum of routine, of trust. Of things he wasn’t sure he deserved anymore.
“I was reading that book you got me,” she said, gesturing to the novel now resting on the couch. “You remembered I liked the author.”
“I always remember,” he said, brushing her hair behind her ear.
Another lie.
She beamed like it meant the world. “You’re so sweet sometimes.”
Lando looked away. “Only sometimes?”
She laughed, resting her head against his shoulder again. “You know what I mean.”
He didn’t respond. He just closed his eyes, letting her warmth press into him like a balm for sins he didn’t plan to confess.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
He’d meant to feel nothing after the hotel. Meant to scratch an itch, blow off steam. But the moment he walked through that door and saw her, guilt had lodged itself so deep it was hard to breathe.
(Y/n) loved him. That was painfully obvious.
She believed in him. Trusted him.
And he, well, he had just come from another woman’s bed.
Yet here he was. In their home. In her arms.
And she still smiled at him like he was worth loving.
He pulled her closer, resting his chin on top of her head. “I’ll do better,” he whispered so softly it wasn’t meant for her to hear.
She stirred faintly. “Hmm?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Just... talking to myself.”
She yawned, snuggling in again. “Let’s go to bed. I don’t wanna sleep without you tonight.”
He nodded, allowing her to guide him toward the bedroom, hand in his, gentle and trusting.
Her love was quiet.
But his guilt was louder.
And still, he said nothing.
Not tonight. To be continued...🧡
✒️ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ʜᴇʀ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2: ᴀ Qᴜɪᴇᴛ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ✒️
📝 Note from the Author: Hey! Hey! Hey! Alarwynnitesss! It’s my 13th day on Tumblr, and what better way to mark it than with the first chapter of a new story, Where the Silence Took Her. This one is different. It doesn’t begin with softness, but with weight. It’s a descent into guilt, intimacy without tenderness, and the kind of silence that swallows truth whole.
If you’ve ever loved someone who didn’t know how to love you back… if you’ve ever stayed when you shouldn’t have, or waited for someone to come home knowing they’re already far gone, this story is for you.
Thank you, truly, for being here. Whether you like, reblog, comment, or simply read in the quiet, I see you. And I’m endlessly grateful.
With love, me 🧡