#and we have a lot of empty space

[socialpants]

Amma elaborate for those asking why and how and wtf: - The pictures are indeed of central Helsinki, capital of Finland (as per the photographer 10am on a Saturday) - the time is a big factor here as 10am on a Saturday is prime time for people sleeping late and/or curing their hangover. Before 10am on a weekend is a good time to take a morning walk if you want to experience both peace and quiet, but also do that in an urban setting. Most of Finland still runs on a 5 days on-2 days off schedule, with busy hours hitting around 6-9am and 3-5pm on weekdays, and 11am to 5pm, then 8pm to 1am on weekends. (there are 24/7 grocery stores but we're not really a 24/7 culture). Holidays and events make slight exceptions. - there's little over 5 million people in the entire country. 1 million of those in the combined area of 3 major cities; Helsinki-Espoo-Vantaa. There's going to be... space. - "Whatabout the homeless and the gangs?!" There are, as of 2023, about 3,5K homeless people in the entire country. That number encompasses people who technically have a place to stay but don't have a permanent address (so they're not sleeping rough outside), people living with their relatives and friends, or in a temporary emergency housing, or in a trailer encampment. If you find yourself in a situation where you truly have no friend or a relative or a permanent safe housing, usually the city will provide for you a place within a few days if not immediately. It's fairly difficult to find yourself without any housing options, though those state provided options don't come entirely without strings attached. Gangs? Rumour has it there are gangs. But the place where the picture is taken is not one of their hang out spots. You rarely see gang activity in daylight, nor in the middle of Helsinki. Some people would like to think they consistently see gang activity in the location of the left image (the central rail way station), but in reality that's mostly where teens and young adults like to meet up, it's a traffic hub for the trains, the subway, buses, trams, and taxis, and the "gang" activity you see that's legitimately connected to crime is most often older Finns with substance abuse issues getting together in the bushes outside the place. In the Summer. So the criminal activity of the place drops drastically for the other 3 seasons. - And it's just like people like their homes, it's cold outside, and commercial stuff has certain opening hours so there's legitimately very little reason to just hang out in the main public spaces if nothing is open and it's not Summer.

This may be an urban legend and I will preface this by saying that I don't even remember where I heard it, but going to bigger cities in Finland always reminds me of it nonetheless, so I'm telling you now.

There was a student group from either China or Korea - I can't recall which one, but Asian nonetheless - who were in student exchange to Finland, in Helsinki. The finnish hosts did their best to make them feel welcome, touring them around the city on the first day out and about, but they noticed the asian students seeming uneased by something. Not in a way of just being timid about being in a foreign country, but glancing at each other like something was off, and looking at each other with this air of "you're seeing it too, right?" but none of them wanted to be the first to bring it up to their finnish hosts. Both cultures are the high-context type, so they had clearly concluded that since the finns didn't point out the obvious unpromptedly, the subject might be too sensitive to talk about.

Eventually one of the exchange students decided to brave against this potential taboo, and delicately asked: "has something... Happened here?" And there was mutual surprise when the finns had no clue what they were talking about. This was pre-covid, nothing bad had happened there. And one of the exchange students - who still weren't sure whether they're breaching a taboo of something One Does Not Talk About - bravely elaborated. The streets are empty. It's eerie. They're in the central of the capital city and the streets are almost deserted. Has there been some calamity? A plague, an earthquake, have the people fled or been evacuated somewhere? Is it safe to even be here?

And they were just as baffled when the finnish hosts confirmed that no, this is a normal amount of people to see on the street on a normal day. Finland just looks like this. And for the sake of clarity, this is what Helsinki city centre looks like on a normal saturday morning at 10 am:

Both pictures taken by me, this morning.

[ra-vio]

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[apocalypticdemon]

hmm. spiraling. fun.

[messy-does-cosmology]

Lol there is this LGBT bookshop near me run by this married couple and they mostly just stock their own self-published books and graphic novels

[britneyshakespeare]

I'm seeing my friend today and I'm bringing my Bratz dolls to show her how much I love them

[roobylavender]

i’m sure you’ve talked about it before but you expand more on your thoughts about talia & jason and how their relationship would be? what are some positives and negatives their interactions would bring? (your talia metas are everything)

thank you! on talia's end i think a lot of it would come down to balance and restraint. because there are a lot of unpredictable factors at play and on top of it her tutelage of jason coincides with her last years under her father's thumb so there's parts of herself that she's beginning to close off out of self preservation and exhaustion. that's why i like the placement of under the hood right after the close of lexcorp era even if it obv wasn't intended because it puts her in a place comparatively to take all of the risks after a year of complete physical and emotional isolation. and even then i feel like there would still be a lot of restraint because of the guilt over her part in jason's various massacres. i could see her reprimanding him but in a very cautious and empathetic way so as not to set him off the way bruce would if he was the one lecturing him. so like.. not quite in the realm of mothering but maybe teetering on the edge of it. and i do think talia would try to maintain some distance out of respect for his history. which may or may not fuck with jason emotionally because as possessive as he is of his own grief i do think he'd long for even the smallest semblance of what he thinks he could get. like guarded as he is he would certainly soften to her over time and abide by her guidance even if he didn't necessarily verbalize the fact. i don't really know that i'd see any negatives between them like at worst it would be awkward and strained because he wouldn't be sure of how to place her in his life and she wouldn't want to overstep

[angelstrawbabie420]

im so fucked LMFAO ive really done it

[itsdetachable]

It's 1am and I can't sleep bc my brain is gyperfocyses on gerbils

[birt-art]

Man I know it's simply the state of the world as a deeply complex place but it makes me so frustrated that some of the issues that are important to me are literally contradictory?? Like I think we should be using low carbon no plastic fabrics created by workers paid properly, an obvious answer to which is wool and more sheep farming, but also I deeply care about rewilding the ecosystems in my country that have been decimated by sheep farming which means,,, less sheep. I do not know how to do both, in an ideal world. Which is probably why it's a good thing I'm not a politician I do not know what to do about anything

[bittersweetstargazer]

pov txt's album was so good you almost majorly injured yourself listening to it

[damndude69]

.

[lookwhatyoumademelou]

.

[keeps-ache]

was up til 4 writing last night woohooooo :3

[gloomwitchwrites]

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSjHFAReU/

This TikTok lit a fire in me ,like just imagine it happening with the 141 and possibly Alejandro 🥲their reactions after they open the lunchbox

141 + Alejandro? Yes, please. Also, I absolutely adore this. I keep imagining reader angrily packing their lunchbox and muttering under their breath but still thinking "goddamn it I love this man" and "this'll show him." Like, we might be upset with them because of the argument but we aren't sacrificing their nutrition over it.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, married life, swearing, arguments, brief suggestive themes, light angst, fluff

Word Count: 2k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

John is alone in his office.

There’s a pile of paperwork on his desk. Files. Photos. Unfinished reports. It’s never-ending, and it’s the least favorite aspect of his job. John would rather be out in the field or back home with you.

But going home feels a bit daunting. The fight the two of you had last night was the worst one, not that there are lots of fights to begin with. With heated words exchanged, the two of you argued until you were both red in the face. You had stormed off, locked yourself away, and then John sat in silence for hours afterwords, staring at the wall.

All of that, and it was his unpacked lunch that broke him. You always pack it with filling food that keeps him going on the days that he’s not in the field and just sitting behind a desk. He loves the notes you leave inside, and how you always prank something in his meal that makes him chuckle.

But right now, all he can do is stare at the container before him, knowing there’s nothing inside it except what he packed himself last night.

“Damn it all,” he mutters, slowly tugging on the zipper, knowing it’s better to just face the measly meal than ignore it.

Yet as he opens up the container and glances inside, John finds something odd. Everything he packed last night is gone. In its place is what he’s always come to expect.

Disbelief spreads as John removes container after container, opening each one in turn. How did you manage it? How did he not sense you getting out or even returning to bed in the night? How did he not hear you in the kitchen?

John leans back in his chair, staring at the spread before him.

Where’s the note?

Grabbing the bag, John checks, and finds nothing. He even opens up each food storage container, trying everything to see if you’ve tampered with it. And still, everything is fine.

Reaching for his phone, John opens his messages, and there—right there—is one from you.

Sorry. Forgot to pack a note. Love you.

John sighs heavily, tapping the phone against his forehead. All this stress, all this worry, and you still care about him.

Thank you, he texts back. I love you, too.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“I’m done talking about this.”

Johnny shakes his head, grabbing your upper arm to pull you back into the conversation. “And I’m not.”

You roll your eyes, but Johnny ignores the attitude. Whenever the two of you argue, it’s mostly frivolous nonsense that ends with the two of you fucking until the both of you are too exhausted to care about whatever you were arguing over in the first place.

This is not that sort of argument. The both of you are far too heated for this to devolve into rough kissing and even rougher sex.

“I know you’re angry,” replies Johnny. “But—”

“Let go, John.”

Johnny cringes on hearing his government name. You never call him John unless you’re looking to draw blood.

He releases your arm and steps away. “Fine. But this isn’t over. I’m not going to let this go. We have to talk about it.”

“And we will,” you sigh. “But I can’t—I can’t think. I need…space. Just…space.”

Johnny watches you walk away and hates every second of it. The feeling only worsens when he glances over and notices his empty lunch pail. You always prep it for him, making sure he’s fed. He likes that you do it. Makes him happy every time he opens it up on his lunch break.

But you’re raging mad, and it’s late.

Johnny is on his own.

With reluctance in every step and movement, Johnny fills the pail with all sorts of junk. It’s all snack food, but he hardly cares. If he has to, he’ll grab something while on break. When he’s done, he heads into the bedroom, pausing in the doorway.

You’re already in bed, covers pulled up over your head.

Johnny frowns but he doesn’t bother you, and when he finally rolls into bed, sleep alludes him for a solid hour before seizing him.

The morning isn’t much better. You’re still submerged under the covers and unresponsive. Johnny dresses for work in silence, grabs his lunch he packed in silence, and leaves the house in silence. He can’t even bring himself to turn on the radio or listen to his favorite music. Part of him is empty.

The day drags at the construction site, and when he finally—finally sits down to eat, he doesn’t want to open up his lunch pail and see the pathic meal he packed for himself.

“Fuck,” he mutters while pulling on the zipper and flipping the lid.

Johnny blinks, staring down at the food before him. Gone is the prepackaged snacks and junk food. There’s a homecooked meal in here along with several snacks, fresh fruit, and veggies. On top of it all is a small handwritten note on heart-shaped pink paper.

I’m mad at you but I won’t let you starve.

He didn’t even hear you get up in the night.

Johnny’s eyes sting, and when he blinks to chase away a few tears, he realizes how stuffy his nose has become.

“Fuck,” he mutters, opening up the container of strawberries.

You’ve cut them into heart shapes.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon has been a grump all day.

Doesn’t matter that he wears a balaclava, and no one can see his face. He hasn’t cracked a single smile once. Any question asked is responded to with a grunt, and if he must speak at all, it’s nothing more than a one-word answer.

He’s not in the mood. His mind is elsewhere. All he can focus on is the fight the two of you had last night. Fights are rare but they’re always fierce, and you never back down during an argument. For Simon, it’s simultaneously attractive and frustrating.

“Up to trade anything, Lt?” Johnny saddles up to Simon, peering over his shoulder at his lunch pail.

The rest of the team teases him endlessly about the fact that you always pack Simon a lunch. They call it cute—domestic. But they’re also jealous. Johnny is always trying to barter and trade with him, and Simon always refuses.

Until today.

There is absolutely fucking nothing in his lunch pail except a protein bar and a bag of crisps. Simon packed his lunch last night while you went to bed after verbally chewing his head off. This time, Simon is willing to trade the whole thing, but he’s too proud to spend money on picking something up. He’d rather starve.

“Maybe,” answers Simon as he unzips the lid. “What you offering?”

Johnny’s eyebrows rise slightly. Simon never shares. Never.

Simon flips the lid over but doesn’t look.

Johnny leans forward, eyes widening. He whistles lowly. “Damn, Lt. Wifey hooked you up today.”

Frowning, Simon glances down and finds—not the lunch he packed himself—but one you packed for him.

“Changed my mind,” mumbles Simon, closing the lid and pushing the lunch pail away from Johnny’s reach.

“Changed your—” But Simon is already walking away, intending to enjoy his meal in peace. “Oi! Lt!”

Argument aside, you still got up early and put this together while he slept. For the first time today, Simon smiles.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle holds onto the lunch pail like a lifeline.

It’s such a silly hesitation. He already knows what he’ll find inside. He packed the damn thing.

Cup-o-Ramen. Plain crisps. An apple.

I don’t want to talk to you right now, Kyle.

Leave me alone. Give me some fucking space.

Even now the resentment and anger still lingers on Kyle’s tongue. For all the years you’ve been together, arguments have been few and far between. And even when there is a fight, the two of you talk it out until a solution is found. Neither of you like going to bed angry.

But last night was an atomic bomb. An explosion of dissent.

You broke off to the bedroom, slamming the door, and locking it behind you. Kyle ended up sleeping on the couch with nothing but a decorative pillow and a throw blanket that hardly covered his body.

After all the yelling, after all the back-and-forth and then your sudden disappearance, Kyle was left with two realities. One, you were pissed at him, and nothing was resolved. Two, you didn’t pack his lunch.

It’s the one thing Kyle loves most about working, knowing that you’ve put together something healthy and filling. The cute notes aren’t so bad either. But there was zero possibility that you’d pack him anything after that argument, so Kyle set to it, dumping stuff into the lunch pail before falling asleep on the sofa.

And now, here he is, sitting down for lunch and dreading the choices he made last night.

“Better get to it,” he sighs, tugging on the zipper.

When he flips the lid over, he’s momentarily stunned. Gone is the Cup-o-Ramen and plain crisps. The apple is still there, but it’s sliced and in its own container with some chocolate spread on the side of dipping. You’ve replaced it all with sealed containers. Pasta. A salad with homemade dressing.

And on top of it all, a sticky note.

I’m mad but I love you.

Kyle’s trepidation vanishes. He chuckles as he picks the note up and presses it to his lips.

Everything is fine.

Everything will be okay.

Bonus: Alejandro Vargas

When you and Alejandro fight, it’s explosive.

If something doesn’t break from being thrown, it breaks because you and him were fucking like animals on it.

Last night wasn’t a simple disagreement. You threw a shoe at him, and when Alejandro knocked it out of the air and kept going, you threw a pillow, and then attempted to throw the lamp. All in vain. He had yanked the lamp out of your hand, had it back on the end table, and tossed you onto the bed in a matter of seconds.

It was just pure need after that. All carnal lust.

After all the energy and anger vanished, Alejandro was left staring up at the ceiling as you dozed beside him. Nothing was resolved. Nothing was fixed.

And when he woke up late and rushed out the door, he didn’t even think about that fact that you hadn’t packed his lunch. Alejandro grabbed the container, brought it with him out of pure fucking habit.

Not, it stares back at him, and he doesn’t know if he should even open it. Not like you got up in the night and packed it. Alejandro would have woken up if you had crawled out of bed in the middle of the night and returned much later.

No. No.

He won’t find anything in here. Nothing. A shame really. He’s going to have to convince someone to go out and grab something for him, or hope someone brought something to drop off in the break room.

Alejandro swears under his breath and then opens the damned lid.

He expects nothing, and yet, it’s not empty. For a second, everything freezes, and then Alejandro isn’t sure if he should laugh or cry. Inside is easily enough food for two. You’ve packed it to the brim, and as he explores, he even finds your homemade tortillas.

“Is this an apology?” he asks out loud, as if you’ll pop into appearance and answer.

There isn’t any note, and there isn’t a single message from you on his phone. Either you’re waving a white flag, or you’re still angry, but not angry enough to allow him to go hungry.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@fern-reads @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @glassgulls @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @z-wantstowrite @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[mcmansionhell]

namesake mcmansion

Howdy folks! Today's McMansion is very special because a) we're returning to Maryland after a long time and b) because the street this McMansion is on is the same as my name. (It was not named after me.) Hence, it is my personal McMansion, which I guess is somewhat like when people used to by the name rights to stars even though it was pretty much a scam. (Shout out btw to my patron Andros who submitted this house to be roasted live on the McMansion Hell Patreon Livestream)

As far as namesake McMansions go, this one is pretty good in the sense that it is high up there on the ol' McMansion scale. Built in 2011, this psuedo-Georgian bad boy boasts 6 bedrooms and 9.5 baths, all totaling around 12,000 square feet. It'll run you 2.5 million which, safe to say, is exponentially larger than its namesake's net worth.

Now, 2011 was an anonymous year for home design, lingering in the dead period between the 2008 black hole and 2013 when the market started to actually, finally, steadily recover. As a result a lot of houses from this time basically look like 2000s McMansions but slightly less outrageous in order to quell recession-era shame.

I'm going to be so serious here and say that the crown molding in this room is a crime against architecture, a crime against what humankind is able to accomplish with mass produced millwork, and also a general affront to common sense. I hate it so much that the more I look at it the more angry I become and that's really not healthy for me so, moving on.

Actually, aside from the fake 2010s distressed polyester rug the rest of this room is literally, basically Windows 98 themed.

I feel like the era of massive, hefty sets of coordinated furniture are over. However, we're the one's actually missing out by not wanting this stuff because we will never see furniture made with real wood instead of various shades of MDF or particleboard ever again.

This is a top 10 on the scale of "least logical kitchen I've ever seen." It's as though the designers engineered this kitchen so that whoever's cooking has to take the most steps humanly possible.

Do you ever see a window configuration so obviously made up by window companies in the 1980s that you almost have to hand it to them? You're literally letting all that warmth from the fire just disappear. But whatever I guess it's fine since we basically just LARP fire now.

Feminism win because women's spaces are prioritized in a shared area or feminism loss because this is basically the bathroom vanity version of women be shopping? (It's the latter.)

I couldn't get to all of this house because there were literally over a hundred photos in the listing but there are so many spaces in here that are basically just half-empty voids, and if not that then actually, literally unfinished. It's giving recession. Anyway, now for the best part:

Not only is this the NBA Backrooms but it's also just a nonsensical basketball court. Tile floors? No lines? Just free balling in the void?

Oh, well I bet the rear exterior is totally normal.

Not to be all sincere about it but much like yours truly who has waited until the literal last second to post this McMansion, this house really is the epitome of hubris all around. Except the house's hubris is specific to this moment in time, a time when gas was like $2/gallon. It's climate hubris. It's a testimony to just how much energy the top 1% of income earners make compared to the rest of us. I have a single window unit. This house has four air conditioning condensers. That's before we get to the monoculture, pesticide-dependent lawn or the three car garage or the asphalt driveway or the roof that'll cost almost as much as the house to replace. We really did think it would all be endless. Oops.

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar! Student loans just started back up!

[f1lovr]

WE GOT A HUGGER! | LN4

note: i am such a softie for this gif bro, thank you for your service to whoever made it.

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: in which your boyfriend loves hugs

warnings: none, tooth rotting fluff

if there was one thing that you didn't expect from lando when you started dating, it was his love for hugs.

lando's love for hugs wasn't something that was necessarily noticeable. no definitely not noticeable unless you were his girlfriend, who noticed he was a hugger to an abnormal amount.

not that you were complaining though.

you thought oscar was the supposed koala since he was australian but it was lando who was actually the clinger.

you didn't even know when it started, not until one day you had hugged him hello and he had hugged you a little tighter than normal. his hands splayed across your back, head resting on your shoulder, holding you a little longer than normal.

"are you trying to suffocate me norris?" you asked playfully. he only smirked though, moving to tuck his face into your neck like it was the most natural thing in the world for him, like he wasn't just holding you and not letting go.

and that's when you started noticing it. your boyfriend loved hugs a lot more than he had been letting on.

he had stopped hiding it eventually, even going as far to open his arms for you when he saw you, a silent invitation, and once you were in his embrace it was like he could breathe again.

then, you figured out that with each instance, for him there was always a reason to hug you, always a reason to have his arms around you. and from that you slowly started discovering the different types of lando norris hugs.

there was his 'i missed you' hugs.

these typically came in the late hours of the night, after lando gets in from his flight from long race weekends. you typically would have tried to stay up for him only for sleep to take you every single time.

and every single time lando would find you in bed, curled up and waiting for him. and every single time he dropped his bags on the floor of the bedroom you'd stir a bit, just enough that you could feel the way he would immediately climb into bed, his arms finding their way around you, pulling you against him so that you were flush with the rest of his body.

"lan, you're freezing," you'd giggle quietly.

"the plane was cold," he'd murmur into your shoulder, pressing soft kisses to it, followed by a soft and quiet, "missed you."

these types of hugs were all consuming, like in order to breathe properly every part of you needed to be close to him.

then there was the 'you're here and that's enough' hugs.

these were his lazy day hugs. his 'i'm content just where i am' hug.

typically it would look like you curled up on the couch, a book in your hand with a blanket tossed over your legs. lando would wander out from somewhere, looking completely and utterly content.

he wouldn't say a word, just move to sit down beside you, pulling you into his side. he'd exhale, almost as if you just being there filled an emptiness that had been sitting all day.

"everything okay? what's this for?" you'd ask looking up at him.

he would always shrug, his lips quirking into a lazy smile, "no reason, just like being with you," he'd say.

and so you'd sit, your head tucked into the space just under his chin, his arms tightening around you, just the two of you together.

there was also his 'i'm tired' hugs.

these hugs didn't even necessarily consist of just when he was physically tired. these hugs typically happened when the world felt heavier than normal on his shoulders.

he wouldn't ask for them. but the way he would walk, with his shoulders slumped and tired eyes, his hood pulled over his head like it could protect him from something, you would always automatically know.

you never needed to ask. instead you would just stand up, walking over to where he was and opening your arms for him.

he would step right into them, silent. his arms would find their way winding around your waist, like you were the only thing keeping him grounded to earth. his head would bury itself in your chest.

no words. no explanations. only the beating of your heart against his.

your hand would rub his back as you asked softly, "bad day?"

he wouldn't say anything in return, only nodding his head in return, but that was enough for him, enough for you.

you didn't need to fix him, he didn't want you to, you didn't want to. you only needed to hold him until whatever it was hurt a little less.

your personal favorite would always be his 'everything will be okay' hugs though.

these were never for a good reason. they were always when your world was crashing. your hard days where work would go for too long, or something would happen that stressed you out more than normal, everything eating away at you like you were some buffet.

you would put on a smile but lando would always see right through it.

you were always one step in the door when he was there, his hand catching the bag that you would drop onto the floor before it was able to make too loud of a noise or accidentally knock something over, his arms immediately wrapping around you without another word.

and you would break. your face would smush into his chest, your breathing unstable as you sobbed. he never asked. he never needed to.

his hands would run over your back, soothing you as you cried. he would always speak to you in a soft voice, one that was barely there, one that grounded you.

"i've got you. just breathe. you're okay. i'm here."

while the reasons were never good, they were always your favorite, because lando would always be home for you.

your boyfriend was a clinger, there was no questioning it. whether it be the random ones where you would be cooking breakfast in the kitchen and he'd give you a back hug out of nowhere, or where he'd physically demand for one from you.

you were stood doing laundry, just sorting the socks, not doing anything necessarily glamorous, lando leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

he wasn't saying anything, but he had that look on his face. his eyes soft, mouth just barely smiling.

"what?" you asked, your head tilting as you looking at him.

his arms opened, "come here."

you stopped what you were doing, dropping the socks you were sorting and made your way straight into his chest, his arms folding you into him, the only place you were meant to be. your ear pressed against his chest listening to his heartbeat as his fingers drew little, lazy shapes across your back.

"why do you like hugs so much," you asked tilting your head up so your chin was resting on his chest as you looked him.

he only shrugged, "i don't know, everything just feels like it's okay when i'm holding you."

"you're ridiculous," you'd giggle, your voice muffling as you bury your face into his chest again.

"and yet you still come running," he would say with a grin.

and that was lando.

he didn't just like hugs, he needed them. not as some sort of weakness, just reminding him of the different people and the places that grounded him onto earth.

nothing could compare to your arms around him, you in his arms. not the podiums or the wins, or the sensation of driving.

all because you were the safest place for him.

and to you? being loved by him like that, his arms always finding their way around you, it was everything you could ask for and what you never knew you needed.