#they better have a fucking OBNOXIOUS personality

[mattypattypinky]

Sleepover with Anxiety (Inside Out 2) Headcannons

(Romantic Headcannons)

As we know from Go To Sleep Anxiety (The book) she has an extremely hard time falling asleep. I feel like this would play a big role in a sleep over with her.

She's probably the one who arranged the sleepover, and the sleepover is probably just staying in the same room together or area, since. Everyone / most in HQ kind of sleeps sort of together anyways.

She wanted to sleep next to you tonight! I mean, she probably wants to do that every night but she's waaay to anxious to ask 90% of the time.

I feel like if you had trouble sleeping she'd prioritize helping you sleep first, even if it was at the expense of her own.

She'd probably stay up late because she drank way too many energy drinks, and her mind can't stop racing. That 1200 milligrams of caffeine in her system is making her heart race faster, her mind go faster, and she can't keep up with either/J.

She's probably the type of person to get extremely stressed out if she feels her heartbeat actually. She's probably got real bad health anxiety.

I feel like she'd want to cuddle you in attempt to help you, or herself, sleep.

Little spoon would make her feel safer, but she wouldn't ask. She'd just kind of lean into you and hope you take the bait, and if you asked what she's doing she'd panic and apologize and say it's nothing. 😭

If you do manage to fall asleep before her, and don't cuddle her, she'll probably spend a few hours of the night up at the table, making origami figures of you and her so that she can give you one of her and she can keep one of you. She'd try her best, but I think she'd make yours way better than hers, then beat herself up for it because the little Anxiety origami figure doesn't look NEARLY as good as the one she made of you.

And she doesn't want you to have a shitty, poorly made figure.

She probably pops melatonin gummies before bed in hopes they'll make her tired enough to pass out.

I feel like she'd be the type to need some sort of noise when going to bed? Like she'd probably need background noise.

"Do you mind if I play my white noise before I go to bed?" And you're like sure! And its this fucking roar of white noise coming from her phone that's so obnoxious that you might have trouble sleeping.

Or something really corny like whale or ocean noises... Cuddles up all cutely while whale noises emit from her phone I feel like Joy would LOSE HER SHIT in the middle of the night to it like she wouldn't be able to hold herself back from laughing at it.

I bet anxiety prefers to sleep in rooms full of people, or with people, instead of alone, out of stress or fear something will go bad when she's alone and asleep.

I don't think she snores constantly, but every now and then something would happen in her dream and she'd either gasp or snort in her sleep. She probably twitches in her sleep or roles over.

She'd be an unintentional blanket hog? You'd have to cuddle up to her if you want the blanket... Cause she'd want the blanket right under her chin like a little cocoon and bundled around her like a baby.

Actually, she'd probably really prefer weighted blankets.

Going back to the sleep noise headcanon, but, I feel like another noise she might like to play is those obnoxious youtube playlists of toddler music boxes. She might also be an ASMR girly.

Asmr coming from her phone and it's deep ear cleaning whispering ASMR

She gets embarrassed by it so if she listens to ASMR she uses big bulky headphones that are like almost the size of her. They're wired, not wireless.

She's afraid of the Bluetooth disconnecting or dying in the middle of her ASMR at night, she doesn't want anyone to hear it. 😭

Back on the sleep twitching but she probably kicks in her sleep... Also she definitely wears socks to sleep.

SHE HAS LIKE EIGHT PAIRS of the same night shirt

Joy would unintentionally hurt her feelings because she'd giggle or laugh at certain things Anxiety does at night to sleep, like the ASMR, noises, or the kicking and twitching she does in her sleep.

She might have a night time retainer that she doesn't wear in front of the older emotions because she's afraid of being teased for the lisp it gives her at night. The other emotions that came with her would be a bit worried why she dropped it cold turkey after moving into HQ.

You'd probably have to convince her to wear her dental equipment that she needs.

Umm, before sleep she'd probably want go by a strict rule-set for sleep-over fun. She probably has like... A planner for the perfect slumber-party, and has like specific activities that she wants to do, and others that are complete utter no-no's.

I feel like she would want to watch stuff with you, maybe read a book, paint nails if you like to do that, but she'd be very anxious about the more exerting sleep-over habits.

Like if you, or someone asked to do a pillow fight I feel like she'd stress over all the negative effects of it.

What if the pillows tear? What if someone gets hurt? If we do something physically exerting this late, we might not be able to calm down enough to sleep on time! If we play truth or dare, we could reveal a truth that could leave someones mind racing all night. Or a dare that could embarrass them the whole night. We can't play pranks because it could make a mess... And it could cause discomfort, or emotions before bed- You get the drift, if there's something to overthink about it, she will.

She'd prefer much more calm activities.

She'd like binging things with you late at night... It would help get her mind off her rushing worries. She'd be able to lay back and relax and maybe fall asleep to the sounds of the show that's on.

I feel like, weirdly enough, she'd enjoy if you brushed her hair. She'd probably find it extremely soothing, especially if she is having trouble sleeping herself tonight. The feeling of a soft brush combing through her hair. Or simply playing with it like girls do at school. I feel like it would ease her mind and make her feel comfortable and safe.

Remember the origami? Yeah, she'd probably like other activities similar to this to calm herself down at night, too. She'd probably like to learn how to so sweet little arts and craft projects, or simply do art.

Maybe it's late at night, and she can't quite sleep any well, and so you and her go out to the table... You bring some crayons, and paper, and draw together to ease her worries.

Or make each-other Kandi-Bracelets with little colorful beads and stretchy-strings!

I feel like she'd be too anxious to do something like make cookies, but if you could, making her cookies and milk would probably help her sleep. And, even if it doesn't, it would make her feel good, because boy are cookies tasty.

I feel like having a sleepover with her would be a roller coaster but I feel like she wouldn't have it any other way.

WHEW!!! TY TO @fenny-self-ships for helping me yet again curate these <33

[rius-cave]

Most of the headcanons I've seen about Adamsapple in Eden were portraying them having a good relationship, like Lucifer being sweet and kind to Adam, overly interested in him, liking him etc. while Adam being way more innocent back then and of course very curious. While I like the idea of them being in love even back then and having this cute relationship between them, I also like to play with the thought that Lucifer didn't always like Adam (and vice versa). What I mean is, Lilith and Adam never really got along well, they had their constant conflicts and such, mainly rooting from their different personalities, as in I imagine Adam being this kinda obnoxious person who's full of himself, stubborn and doesn't like when things don't go as he wants (not exactly in a toxic way, like I don't think of him as an actual bad person, rather like a big child lol). While I see Lilith as a way more mature and collected person who's had enough of Adam's "childish bullshit". (I know it sounds kinda stereotypical but my goal isn't that lol I can just genuinely see it, also canon!Adam is a walking stereotype so it's hard to ignore it haha)

So, assuming that both of them were created at the same time, when Lucifer started visiting the garden he warmed up to Lilith first, they started spending time together. Lilith regularly complained about Adam, how he acted so childish/talked too much about insignificant things/followed her etc. (again, I don't think she was cruel, she was literally the first woman, had so much to learn and expressed how she couldn't get along with Adam). Lucifer listening to her all the time, and also being fond of her, involuntarily started to develop doubtful feelings about Adam. Of course Lucifer was sweet and kind, he didn't hate the man, but all of Lilith's talk had an effect on him, and Adam's behavior when they interacted just deepened it further (although Lucifer himself didn't exactly find him annoying, Lilith's talk just caused him to focus on Adam's "problematic" behavior more and he subconsciously confirmed Lilith's words).

Meanwhile Adam obviously noticed that Lucifer was spending way more time with Lilith and didn't seem to feel too pleasant about him, he was kinda offended about that and started to dislike Lucifer.

However, I can imagine them interacting at one point, cause like, Adam obviously felt bad about feeling excluded and that neither of them liked him, so once when it was just the two of them with Luci, he kinda snapped and confronted him about it. (I can't really imagine him as a person who keeps it in, I rather see it as he was offended which led to him becoming frustrated and telling it straight into Lucifer's face angrily.) So he told him that he doesn't understand why they both dislike him but it's not fair and he's so much better than them anyway yada yada but it was clear that he was upset and hurt. That would be the point when Lucifer realizes the situation and it would become a turning point in their relationship??

It got kinda long lol sorry

My dear friend, this? This is what I strive for.

I'll be the first person to admit that my characterization of their Eden personas is allllll over the fucking place. My apologies, I try to be better 😂 but I agree with you almost a 100%

I love depicting them as friends in Eden, but if I had to be realistic? In canon he probably didn't care much for him LOL or at least not as much as the fandom likes to believe. I also want to see more of this scenario with an adamsapple endgame, I'd like to do it myself, but to be truthful I wouldn't really be sure how to do it.

I like to think of Eden!Adam as, yes, more innocent, but he was still a bit of a shit, sarcastic and sassy (not an outright asshole, but his personality had a bit of a spice to it ya know?) I try to let this part of him show as much as I can in my newer depictions of Eden, but well I'm not sure if I've succeeded lol

I think that, if he's a brat now, he'd be even MORE SO in Eden. Basically, exactly what you said that he'd be obnoxious, full of himself and childish, just more out of a place of immaturity rather than malice.

I also really like this characterization of early Lilith. Yes, I absolutely see her as more mature and independent, more thoughtful and observant than Adam ever was, and of course those personalities clashed.

I absolutely love the idea of Lilith planting seeds of doubt in other people. In fact, that's a personal theory I have about the current Lilith and why Charlie's and Lucifer's relationship is so stranded. I think there must have been a lot of miscommunication and Lilith, whether on purpose or not, fed a lot of ideas about Lucifer to Charlie. She isolated her and fed her ideas about who her father was and what he thought of her, creating this wall between them that is now only starting to crumble down. So, the idea of her doing the same thing between Adam and Lucifer? Fuck yes. I want Lilith to be a manipulative bitch, whether she's doing that with malice or not LOL.

Adam immediately going head first into confrontation sounds very likely to me too! I'd absolutely agree, except I don't think this would make Lucifer actually realize the situation. Depending on how bad the argument was, I could see Lucifer thinking that oh Adam really is just that toxic or whatever other misunderstanding comes up. They're both idiots and unless Adam expresses his feelings with something other than anger, I think Lucifer would be more prone to bite back, or just simply not understand the deeper issues.

Overall I'm in LOVE with this description though!

[poweringthroughthis]

to all the boyz i've fucked before | tbz x m!r

03

i remember when i was walking home from the music academy one afternoon. i had graduated the previous year but sometimes filled in as the assistant teach for 'the fundamentals of music' course. i had a good rapport with the professor during my undergrad in the institute, which is why he often asked me to come teach a class when he was super busy with other college affairs.

i wasn't sure this was what i wanted to do with my career, but it was better than nothing while i explored better options. and it was not bad at all. i loved music, so after a few classes, i got the hang of how to help other youth who had the same passion for it as me. the afternoon sun was shining bright but not enough to make one sweat. i decided an iced coffee was the refreshment i needed after the class. i made my way inside a cozy café near campus. my usual routine there was to order myself a nice drink, get to a table, and spend some alone time catching up on work or simply scrolling through instagram reels. per usual, i got my order and was about to look for an empty table when i bumped into someone. i was so startled that i let out a little 'ooh' and accidentally ended up spilling my drink. looking up at my sorry victim, i started apologizing profusely. "im so sorry. i didn't mean to do that. i should've watched where i was going" i pleaded. but the boy i spilled some of my coffee on, was having none of it. his luscious hair, beautifully styled in curls had a drop or two on them. he was totally fuming, his face red with sheer anger. "damn right you should have watched where you were going you dimwit. you ruined my whole outfit." he yelled. "that's not entirely true, most of it has been spilt by your feet, on the floor. though i do admit, some got on your shoes, but i am willing to pay for how much they cost. im sorry again, it was a genuine mistake" i tried to reason with him. but clearly, to no avail. "they cost more than your entire future! as if you could ever replace my custom-made Balenciaga's! just you wait " he retorted, now looking around, flailing his arms. "baby! this lowlife just attacked me for no reason. look at what he did!" he cried to a man approaching us, lean and built, dressed in sportswear. most likely the fuss-maker's boyfriend, i assumed. i always believed in doing my level best to steer clear of fights. not because i was afraid of them, god no! but because it messed with my mental peace for a long time after they were over. but his baseless statement of a pair of shoes costing more than my future ticked me off. i wanted to punch that bastard's face in but i was a little skeptical if it was a wise choice considering his boyfriend was right by his side, completely believing his partner's obnoxious hyperboles.

before i could reply, a strong arm wrapped around my waist protectively. i tensed up immediately at the firm chest pressing against the small of my back but for some reason i felt a sense of safety. "is there a problem here?" he interrogated, his voice full of suppressed anger, as if he was barely holding himself back. the guy and his boyfriend looked confused.

"what's it to you? who even are you bruh?" the brat's boyfriend asked. "lee jaehyun. and about your question, it's everything to me if a sugar baby with no personality whatsoever is going to ask his man to change his diaper while he pulls a karen on MY boyfriend." the guy back-hugging me spat at the couple. i was dumbfounded. did he just...? but i didn't care much at that moment since they both looked taken aback and that made a sense of satisfaction run through my body. i turned around to take a glance at my knight in shining armor and boy, he was a prince alright. he was so handsome it was borderline criminal. his caramel brown hair was perfectly resting on his head and his blue eyes glared at the troublemaker couple in front of us. he was dressed in a plain white shirt with the sleeves rolled up till his elbow and black dress pants complimenting the look in a way that could make anyone drool. the pants were so tight on his thick thighs that it looked like they could rip easy. a man so fine who also knows how to take a stand for you? he looked so appealing in that moment that i was wanted to climb him like a tree right there. "just to burst your bubble, my housekeepers charge more than you spend in an entire month, you whining infant. i'll pay for two pairs of your ugly-ass shoes." he sneered, directed at the long-haired man that had bashed me earlier. i tried my best to keep my laughter contained as he said that. he gave them a taste of their own medicine and i was here for all of it. "hey man, don't you dare talk to my boyfriend like tha-"

the walmart sportswear ambassador tried to pick a fight but jaehyun shot back just as fast. "if you know what's good for you, you'll back the fuck up, take your little hatemonger home, educate him on basic human decency and thank good heavens that this is all you're getting away with" jaehyun said to the jock through gritted teeth. and then we left the café. with his hand around my waist. "hey, thank you so much for your help back there. i don't know how to repay you" i was truly grateful for him. even though we were strangers, he saw my difficult situation and decided to help me out. it's rare to come across people like that nowadays. "ah, don't mention it. people like them need to be put in their places sometimes. just because they are rich or whatever, does not give them the right to be condescending towards other people" jaehyun chastised. "um, also...forgive me for pretending to be your boyfriend. i couldn't think of anything else fast enough and i wanted to intervene before that wannabe hipster boyfriend of his did something." he explained. my heart fluttered so much at those words that the blush probably showed on my face. can this man stop? he helped me out so much, and still manages to be a gentleman about a fake scenario? he really was the rare kind, huh. good looks and a good heart.

i was thinking of the proper response to let him know it was okay and show my gratitude for his gesture when suddenly he came close to me. his body was so close to me that mine got warm at the thought of him in my personal space. he looked ethereal up close. his lips got close to my ear as he whispered with a smirk. "but if you wanna see that fake relationship become a reality, i'm all for it" he told me. and all my blood gushed down to my lower body. i was ashamed of myself for getting excited over such a thing. i needed to go touch some grass. and with that, slipped his number on a piece of paper in my back pocket and went on his way. i stood there, flabbergasted at his confidence to smoothly touch my ass through that excuse and the undeniable rizz he had. sighing, i finished enveloping my letter to hyunjae and putting a stamp on it, recalling all the raunchy nights and love-filled life we had lived after that fateful day.

as i put the letter aside, i was satisfied with the not so rhetorical question i had ended it with.

'hyunjae, is that offer up for a renewal?'

a smile full of mixed emotions stretched across my features while thinking back to it.

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[subconsciousmysteries]

I like the 9w1 typing for Harry Styles a lot. 972 or 973 I think

[aces-to-apples]

Frankly I think Alistair being mildly shitty to that mage in Ostagar seems pretty in-character for the guy he is before the massive, life-altering trauma that is the Ostagar massacre wherein he sees all of his Grey Warden comrades, his beloved mentor/father figure, and his beloathed half-brother/convenient-target-of-projection absolutely torn to shreds by literal Thedas boogeymen. IIRC Morrigan and Flemeth both comment on his wack behavior after Ostagar and then by the time we get to Lothering Alistair just fully surrenders any and all responsibility (and, frankly, agency) to the player's Warden for the foreseeable future. It can then take anywhere from a couple IRL hours to the entire second act of the game for him to retake almost any amount of it back. And depending on the player's choices in dialogue, and especially whether or not they choose to romance him, we may only see flashes of that guy we met at Ostagar before he potentially morphs into almost someone else entirely (hardened!King!Alistair). All that to say, I don't actually think it's a useful criticism of "characterization" to bring up Alistair's glibness as compared to his behavior in the majority of the game because from where I'm standing (looking directly at his snottiness about Cailan, his complaints about being assigned to the Tower of Ishal, his Templar-esque focusing on Morrigan and Flemeth being apostates, his generally pretty brusque manner with the Warden recruits) it seems fairly in-line with the rest of his behavior at Ostagar.

[bookrat]

Due to an unprecedented new organizational technique(making a folder labeled 'old2022' instead of 'old7'), this year I can easily look back on everything I made and put my favorites into list format according to how much serotonin they deliver when I look at them. This is truly the most objective and important of categorical characteristics.

5. Little punk compsognathid

4. Sinosauropteryx bust

3. Terrestrisuchus

2. Nothronychus

Little Etsy raptor

[kojoty]

"feminist" faux posturing on any meaningful analysis of the intersections of feminism, class dynamics, race, over consumption, imperialism: idk I mean I think Taylor swift's music is good, like we can't discount that,

[piplupod]

anyways I <3 abuse survivors and I hope we can all be believed in our experiences and get the help and care that we fucking need and deserve

[grimmgrinningghouls]

Ugh I'm annoyed at paleoblr again sorry I have to bitch.

"arks bad because its the first google search result when u look up a dinosaur"

Okay well first of all hows that the game itselfs fault?? Like. the devs have zero control over that thats all google. And second of all thats barely even true!! I went ahead and googled some dinosaurs and here are the top results for those, and by top results I mean what appears when you first look at it WITHOUT scrolling.

Tell me. Wheres the ark dino. Where is it. Where are they where are these ark dinos you bitch and moan about CONSTANTLY. I'm not saying this is the case for every single dino in ark theres like 100's of them so I'm not going to google them all and provide a post with like a mile of screenshots.

and if your talking about the wiki or something being the first to pop up. Where. I actually had to go to page two to find the ark wiki for some of them.

"Little kids are being influenced by ark!!"

And? They're little kids. They are no more influenced by ark then they are jurrassic park/world or dinosaur toys. I can't really talk on the nintendo switch dino discoveries game as I haven't actually played it, dino discoveries is the only informational part of ark, and I am not going to pretend I know anything about that.

But are you seriously telling me you're getting upset at children not having accurate dinosaurs? at children being influenced by a popular piece of dinosaur media?? Dude. Chill.

"but people are treating it as a scientific resource!!"

Literally who is doing that. Anyone who does that probably puts their left shoe on their right foot. I extremely active within the ark community, as in extremely, and I have been since the game came out. I have talked to hundreds, possibly even thousands, of different people about dinosaurs on ark now and NOBODY. not a SINGLE person has ever claimed they thought ark was scientific.

Honestly most of us are well aware the arks deeply inaccurate. Its actually mentioned in game several times, most people don't stop to read the notes but one glance at them and the person whos writing them (a paleontologist btw) mentions that all the dinosaurs are wrong and will talk about the sizes being off or other things like that.

"Well they can't just say its not meant to be accurate and call it fine"

Yeah they can actually. Again, most ark players are at least aware of the games many issues and inaccuracies, its something that is regularly discussed amongst the fanartists and lore buffs actually. The most common people who are misinformed by ark are literal children. Get off your fucking high horse.

Honestly most of the stuff I see people bitching about isn't even arks fault. A lot of it is people ripping the models from the game and using them elsewhere, such as when a (very bad) dinosaur documentary stole arks models and used them to spread misinformation. This was not the fault of ark or wildcard, its not their fault other people take their assets and use them in improper ways. I'm fairly certain that if they can they send cease and desist letters to these people anyways.

[spineless-lobster]

My mom try not to ignore my gender identity challenge (impossible)

[stinkrascal]

listen i love animals too but sometimes dog people are so fucking gross, i just saw this tiktok vid where this lady is cooking dinner and halfway through the video she took a piece of raw beef from the meal, let her dog lick it off her hands, and then kept cooking without washing her hands even though she had dog slobber all over her hands like GIRL WHAT?!?!?????? i love my pet too but holy shit i also love being you know hygienic??? barf vomit gag hurl etc

[fangs-claws-paws]

Imma say something controversial. Femboys are the new tomboy, and its just as annoying.

[fractallogic]

I mean yeah dude no kidding she’s better when she eats, because that’s how humans work

Dude is in DENIAL and I am just so tired of it. I’m looking forward to talking to grandpa when he calls me so that I can get an update, because… sigh. I just want broad strokes. I mean yes a shitty update is an update but is it really better than no update? Idk.

Our energetic friend happened to call last night and since her mom also died of cancer and also had a brain tumor, it was especially meaningful to have her tell me for the umpteenth time that whatever decision I made re: seeing her is the right one. If someone who adored and cared for her mom in her final days says that… I mean, I KNOW it’s true, but coming from her I believe it.

Idk man. I want my mom to be at peace. I want her to die. She wouldn’t want to be like this.

[saintjosie]

jesus fucking christ you're obnoxious, my friend told me you'd be a good person to troll but you're just so goddamn pretentious & preachy it makes my genuinely aggravated be around you. Have you ever gotten off your soap box & learned to just relax & have fun? I mean my God every post with you is just complaint, after complaint, after complaint, just live a little for once in your life. At some point you're going to call someone racist because they like traditional European yodling. Also no way you're 33 you look way to young. Either that or my genetics fucked me over, wouldn't be surprised, not the first time. Started balding at 25 idk what happened.

damn it sounds like your life sucks. hope it gets better!

here’s some photos of me lesbian soap wrestling at a bar two nights ago

[jamminvroomvroom]

die for you.

ln x driver!reader

in which you can’t stand each other, or so you say…

this took waaaay too long for me to hate it sm but she’s here! and she’s long! love this concept so much, thank you for this request. so many feels so many vibes, tell me what you think <3

loosely inspired by die for you by the weeknd

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, language, slight glimpses of she fell first, he fell harder, rivals to lovers/enemies to lovers, choking, hate sex? bar fight, mentions of blood

8.3k words (oop)

it’s rare that you miss a podium, so when you do, it tastes bitter and stings like a bitch.

the car has been on fire all season long, a thing of beauty in your calculated hands. so, the string of bad luck you’re enduring, small mistakes with big consequences, it’s quite the pill to swallow.

out of the car you jump, teeth grinding hard out of frustration. you could see the commotion ahead of you, members of the papaya team celebrating their driver. your eyes roll so hard in your head that you feel a lasting ache. you side step members of your team, dodging every single person that tries to talk to you, your comms officer knowing better than to try and engage with you. you know you’re being unreasonable, it was a p5 finish! but it isn’t a podium or a win, so quite frankly, you aren’t interested, and you certainly don’t have any energy left to hear how amazingly well he had driven.

lando fucking norris.

what was once quiet disdain had grown into fully fledged hatred and you fear you’ll be violently sick if you catch a single glimpse of him on the podium. sure, he’s talented, and sure, he’s beautiful, you suppose. that doesn’t mean you have to like him. not anymore. he lives under your skin, inescapable.

you struggle through every interview in the media pen, most of which dissect your recent fall from grace, your mouth forming a hard, unimpressed line every time they mention the orange goblin and his recent streak of podiums and good luck. you wish the journos would bring up his string of women and the probable plan b receipts that went with them. that, you would love to talk about.

you drive in silence back to your hotel, leaving the track as soon as possible, and quickly find solace in your bed for the night. the idea of seeing the inside of a club makes you nauseous after your epic downfall. as your eyes are drooping, your body going limp under the thick duvet, a knock sounds from the door.

“no.” you shout flatly, but the only response you get are giggles from the hallway. for fuck sake, you mutter, groaning as you shift out from beneath the covers and trail apprehensively towards the door.

george and alex appear before you, and you throw your head back is exasperation.

“mate, it’s 9:30.” alex laughs, taking in your fancy attire; pyjamas that you’ve had since you were 17.

“what’s your point?” you croak, glaring up at your obnoxiously tall friend.

“why aren’t you getting ready to go out?” george questions, leaning against the doorframe. he, too, was obnoxiously tall, you thought, feeling the strain in your neck as you move your glare onto him.

“if it wasn’t obvious, i’m not going.” you deadpan, crossing your arms over your chest. “i thought that was clear after i ignored all 77 of your texts.” you smile sarcastically, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

“don’t be boring! you’re an f1 driver, you’re in a cool city, you’re rich and, let’s face it,” he sasses. “you need to get laid.” alex says, like it’s the most causal thing in the world. your eyes bulge out of your head at the utterance of the last bit. george bites back laughter.

“choosing to ignore that.” you hiss. “i’m sorry but i refuse to go out and celebrate that arrogant, whiny little bitch.”

they both know exactly who you’re talking about.

you and lando have simply never seen eye to eye. your karting days were spent pushing one another off the track or into a muddy puddle if things got a bit heated out of the car. sure, olive branches were extended, and maybe adolescent feelings were secretly harboured, but he never gave you any reason to tell him that. you’d grown out of the childish violence when you graduated into formula 1, but you hadn’t been able to shake the rage he made you feel.

it didn’t matter how many dinners you attended where others had conspired and forced you to sit next to each other. it didn’t matter how many times you turned up to play padel and were met with the same lame excuses of ‘oh, did we not mention lando would be here?’ it didn’t matter how many times you’d hugged it out on the podium while adrenaline and tensions were running high.

it didn’t matter how many times he’d watched you from across a crowded room and you’d found his eyes, watched him back. it didn’t matter how many times he’d smirked at you at the start of a race weekend, made you blush. and it certainly didn’t matter what happened last time you found yourself in a club with him.

you just don’t like him. not anymore. you sleep better at night when you lie to yourself.

~ the last time

you sink shot after shot, cocktail after cocktail; the taste of fruity liquor stains your lips and burns your throat. you feel electric, sizzling with ecstasy and the heat from the flashing lights above your head.

it’s approaching 4am and you can’t recall a time in your life where you’d felt so fucking good. the high of your first win is indescribable.

you’ve lost track of the guys, alex and george have packed it in and gone back to their hotels with their girlfriends. pierre and kika are somewhere in a corner, you’re certain. you’re pretty sure you’ve even seen lewis with his entourage and a brick wall of a bodyguard trailing behind him. and at the bar, a set of eyes watch you.

lando isn’t even listening to oscar anymore, no. he is too entranced in the way your hips move to the beat, lost in the carefree lines your body makes in the crowd. he’s itching to go to you, put his hands in places that would stay between you, him, and god, but he doesn’t think a broken nose would be good for business.

everything changes when you spin around, facing his direction. then, it begins: the same thing that happens every time you end up going out in the same group. you watch one another, pretending you’re not both achingly desperate to find out how the other tastes.

but lando is feeling bold. he tells oscar he’ll see him in the morning, and then, egged on by a moscow mule and a few too many shots, he makes his way towards you. it is instinctual, magnetic, the way he is drawn to you.

hands on your hips, lips on your neck. the song changes. you recognise the weeknd’s voice. you are disappointed in yourself but it feels too good to stop.

you know what i’m thinkin', see it in your eyes
you hate that you want me, hate it when you cry
you’re scared to be lonely, 'specially in the night
i’m scared that i’ll miss you, happens every time

the lyrics sober you up. you’re in the first taxi you can see when you finally get outside.

alone.

~

as much as that memory makes you shiver, for several different reasons, you find yourself putting on some makeup and raking through your suitcase for something to wear. george and alex are waiting downstairs for you at the bar, and when you finally make your way down there, they have a martini waiting for you. they watch in impressed horror as the alcohol disappears from the glass mere seconds after it touches your lips.

“let’s get this over with.” you sigh.

-

it could have been worse, you suppose.

the club is packed, hundreds of faces blurring into nothing. you feel better knowing that there is a one in a million chance of running into lando.

you’re tucked into a booth with alex and george, carmen and lily, a few faces you can’t quite place, and charles and pierre. you’d conspired to sit on the outside, prepared to make a quick getaway at the first sign of tension.

you’d been in a state of fight or flight since your last run in, nails bitten down every time you thought about his hands on you, how good they felt on you. it scared you more than anything had in a long time, how your desire had festered.

you go to take a swig from your glass, only to find it empty, aside from a few sad ice cubes. you watch jealously as they melt into nothing, wishing they would take you with them, shoving your glass across the smooth table top when your frustration boils over.

you’re on edge, ridiculously afraid of bumping into a curly haired man. it wasn’t him you were scared of, per-say, more yourself. god knows what you’d do if you felt those warm, calloused hands pulling your hips into his again.

“you okay?” pierre calls across the table. he and charles abandon their conversation as soon as your glass goes flying towards their side of the table. you’re broken out of your trance, caught off guard like a deer in headlights.

“tired.” you reply, shrugging it off like it was nothing. it’s clear immediately that they don’t buy it.

“she’s hiding.” alex chimes in from beside you, and your elbow goes straight into his ribs. he feigns pain for a moment, cackling at your reaction.

“from who?” charles inquires. you roll your eyes, blush spreading down your neck already. you hate everything about the conversation, and yet you need to see where it goes. you’d planned your escape, and now was the opportune time to make it, but you seem to be glued to the leather of the booth.

“lando.” george smirks into his drink as a he speaks, wiggles his eyebrows.

“oh yeah, we know all about that.” pierre laughs, his head tipping back in amusement.

“what?” you spit, eyes wide with confusion.

“don’t think me and kika didn’t see you two before the summer break. that night you won? we thought you’d finally cave.” pierre explains, his grin conveying pure evil.

several “what?!”’s sound from around the table, and now all eyes are on you.

“nothing even happened.” you mumble. “he came over to me and then i left.” you look away, twisting your hair around your finger. you are sweating.

“you looked like you were minutes away from being arrested for public indecency.” pierre smirks. you almost launch yourself across the table, intent on strangling him, and then perhaps throwing yourself in front of an oncoming uber outside.

“well, well, well. i fucking knew it.” alex is giggling beside you.

“come on guys, leave the poor girl alone.” lily winks at you, but even she has a twinkle in her eye. “there’s obviously feelings there.” and just like that she betrays you. her sympathetic smile doesn’t make you forgive her.

“i think you guys just need to get it out of your system,” charles starts, pausing to take a sip of his drink. “just fuck.” he waves his hand, like it was the most causal thing in the world.

the table erupts in laughter and you decide that you are well past the end of your tether. you shake your head, declaring that you need another drink, or ten, and strut away from the table. a chorus of ‘love you’-s and ‘get some’-s sound from behind you. you reply simply by raising your middle finger and refusing to look back.

the bar is in sight, just about in your reach when your evening goes from mildly bad to aggressively worse.

“fuck sake.” you sigh.

“and good evening to you too.” lando replies. he’s blocking your path, materialising before you out of nowhere.

“get out of my way, lan.” it sounds like you’re pleading and you cringe internally.

“don’t you wanna congratulate me?” he feigns a pout and you almost swing for him.

“no, not particularly.” you say dryly. “all i want is a drink, so if you’d just…” you gesture for him to move. of course, he doesn’t.

“haven’t seen you in a while, though. thought maybe you’d missed me.” he takes a step closer; goosebumps litter your bare skin.

“you are such an entitled prick.” you spit, moving to step around him but he catches you, gripping your wrists and pulling you in. you feel heat radiating off of him, expensive cologne overwhelming you in the best possible way.

“and you, honey, are such a fucking brat. but you don’t hear me complaining, do you?” lando whispers, cool breath hitting your face, minty, laced with champagne and cockiness. you almost fold, thighs clenching so tight that he must have noticed.

“move.” you grumble through gritted teeth. you are crumbling painfully, embarrassingly fast.

“make me.” your underwear is damp, but you are fuming.

“don’t fucking test me, lando.” something in your chest sets on fire and you’re over him and his bullshit, and the way he makes you feel.

“i know you want me.” he dips his forehead down to rest gently against yours. his grip on your wrists tightens, thumbs swirling circles into the flesh, right where your pulse is.

you lean in, mere centimetres separating your lips. his eyes darken, the assumption of victory over you tugs his lips into a smirk.

“all i want is my fucking drink. come find me when you’ve managed to navigate your gigantic, stupid head out of your arse.” you catch him off guard, wriggling out of his grip. you’re shaking when you walk away, thoughts of doing things with him that would get you both fired invading your foggy brain.

you try to disappear into the crowd, finally breathe a sigh of relief when your hands meet the cool surface of the bar. you order your drink, putting it on your tab and drum your nails against the marble top. you’re lost in your own world, watching as concoctions are mixed, as shots are downed. you finally feel at ease, until your evening takes yet another turn, one that was somehow even more unfortunate than all the others.

your attention is rudely stolen by the guy stood next to you.

“can i get that for you?” the random man speaks, in a way that he must of assumed was smooth. slimy, you think. he’s gesturing to your drink, clearly having watched you add it to your bill already.

“no, thank you. it’s already paid for.” you smile politely, turning on your heel. it seems he wasn’t quite done with you. you feel a clammy hand tug on yours, a wave of sickness washes over you.

lando’s hands are bigger, warmer, softer.

“where are you rushing off to, babe?” the sweaty man asks, his tone fake in a way that makes you uneasy.

“i need to get back to my friends.” you try to pull your hand free, but he won’t budge. “can you let go-“

“i can show you a good time. always thought you were kinda hot.” you’re panicking now, looking every which way for a familiar face, a security guard, anyone.

“take your hands off of me.” you snap, still wrestling to pull yourself free.

“one night with me would pull you out of that little slump you’re in.” he leers. you visibly gag, white hot rage blurs your vision.

“okay you piece of shi-“ you snarl, interrupted by a flash of curls and tanned skin.

“she told you to let go.” lando stands in front of you protectively, rigid and furious. you’ve never been so happy to see his annoying(ly beautiful) face.

“and what are you gonna do?”

“hands. off.” lando stands up even straighter, looking bigger than you’ve ever seen him.

“okay, mate, whatever.” the stranger rolls his eyes, shoves your hand away.

lando turns to you, opening his mouth to speak when…

“keep that stuck up bitch all to yourself.”

and then, everything goes to shit.

lando whips around, fists are flying, the stranger topples to the ground, amassed to nothing in the face of the mclaren drivers rage. lando doesn’t stop there, makes sure he is sufficiently dealt with, flat on his back on the sticky floor. you don’t know what to do, calling out for lando, begging him to stop, as satisfied as you are. lando hears your shouts, pulled out of the chaos and back to you. always back to you.

“are you okay?” he has his hands on your face searching for any remaining fear or upset. a crowd has formed and you see alex and george towering above the other club goers, jaws agape.

it’s as if he dj has it out for you, and you realise that the song has changed to something moodier, slower, one that gives you whiplash.

even though we're going through it
and it makes you feel alone
just know that i would die for you
baby, i would die for you

“we need to get out of here. security are coming.” you mutter, keening into his touch.

“i have a car outside.”

“well, let’s use it then.”

-

you can’t help but stroke over his knuckles mindlessly in the car, an unlikely comfortable silence settling between you. they look raw, cracked slightly and you have an overwhelming desire to kiss them better. your head is fuzzy, and you’re unsettled with confusion, but at the same time, you feel lighter.

“why did you do that?” you murmur, disrupting the quiet that has settled over the backseat of the town car, the question burning desperately on your tongue.

lando turns his head so that he’s looking down at you, his good hand comes up to cup your jaw softly.

“no one can talk to you like that.” he’s staring so deeply into your eyes and you almost squirm at the intensity. you feel exposed, bare.

“but why did you step in before that?” you reiterate shakily. lando hums in understanding.

“i’ve known you since we were 10 years old. i know when you’re scared.” he whispers, breath dusting your cheeks. you almost lean in, then, something about his words pull you even closer towards him. you feel warmth creeping over your chest, sinking into the pit of your belly.

“we’ve arrived.” the driver calls from the front, signalling that you need to get out of the car. it was like an elastic band had snapped, and you spring away from lando, scrambling to undo your seat belt, the moment of weakness long gone.

you sneak into the lobby, on the lookout for any angry PR teams or incognito photographers that are scoping for their next pay check. the coast seems clear, so you manage to scurry discreetly into the elevator. you hit the button for the third floor.

“can you hit the button for five?” lando asks, leaning against the opposite wall.

“you’re coming to my room.” you state, offering no other explanation, even when he raises his eyebrows.

the ding of the lift has lando pushing himself off of the mirrored wall, trailing behind you into the corridor. the lights are low as he follows you to your door, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. he watches in anticipation as you rifle through your small bag for your keycard. the green light gives you the go ahead to open the door, and he awkwardly follows you inside, peering around the room.

you notice the slight apprehension in his features, eyes blown wide from alcohol and adrenaline. they seem to sparkle more than you’d seen in a while, a hazel-y blue twisting with secrets and unspoken thoughts.

“let me find my first aid kit.” you tell him. you guide him towards the foot of your bed, gesture for him to sit. “make yourself comfortable.”

“you don’t need to do this.” lando replies, sitting down anyway.

“and you didn’t need to get between me and that dickhead but here we are.”

your words elicit a low chuckle from him, and you’re glad you have your back to him while you dig through your suitcase. he can’t see your smile at the wholesome sound, and he doesn’t need to.

random pieces of clothing fall out of the bag as you rummage through it, your attention taken up completely by your mission to find the small box. you don’t notice the pile of garments littering the floor.

“wow, didn’t take you for that kinda girl.” lando teases. your cheeks flame red when you catch sight of the cherry red thong that has managed to get caught in the wheel of your suitcase.

“shut up, i’m helping you.” you grumble, balling up the lace and burying it at the bottom of the case.

“why is it ferrari coloured? something you wanna tell me? do you think charles is… foxy? or is it fred? oh, i bet it’s fred, isn’t it.” he’s laughing now, loud and boisterous, and if it wasn’t for the butterflies erupting in your belly at the sound, you would have throttled him.

“i’ll leave you to bleed out.” you tease back, pointing at the dried up blood across his knuckles.

“of course, i am in urgent need of medical attention!” he exclaims sarcastically, clutching his hand. you roll your eyes.

“you know where the door is.” you stand from the floor, carrying a little square antiseptic wipe with you.

“yeah, i do. feel like staying now, though. i’m just so comfy.”

and with that, he throws himself back on your bed, closing his eyes as he sinks into the mattress.

you stare at him for a second, noticing the way his eyelashes dust the tops of his cheeks, his tanned, thick neck peeks out from in between the undone buttons of his dress shirt. you exhale shakily, moving to sit beside him on the bed.

“give me your hand.” you instruct him, tearing the packet open and unfolding the wipe.

“romantic.” lando snarks. you shove his shoulder in response. he holds his hand out.

“whatever.” you sigh, avoiding eye contact as you run the wipe over his knuckles. you can see how they are already tinged purple, wincing at the idea that it is your fault.

“what is it?” lando asks, noticing.

you don’t respond. this proximity is odd, you can’t quite tell yet if you like it. what you do know is that you certainly don’t know how to handle him now that the alcohol is wearing off and you’re left tending to the wounds of a man that you could have sworn you didn’t like.

“so that’s how it’s gonna be? we’re going back to the silent treatment again?” lando scoffs.

“don’t know what to say.” you mutter, keeping your eyes trained on every line and indent of his knuckles.

“why do you hate me so much?”

“i don’t.”

“yes, you do.” he scoffs.

“i don’t think about you enough to hate you.” you lie. it’s cruel. he winces.

that shuts him up.

“i’m gonna go. thanks for this.” lando waves his hand and you feel a wave of guilt hit.

“no, fuck, i’m sorry.” you apologise, bowing your head. “stay.”

“i’ll stay if you tell me why you hate me.”

“i’ve never hated you, lan. haven’t always particularly liked you but i never, ever hated you.”

“okay.”

that’s all it takes for him to flop back onto the bed. some unexplainable instinct that you loathe has you crawling onto the bed beside him. you wrap your arms around your pillow, watching him watch you.

“i used to have such a big crush on you, you know.” lando says. you stare at him blankly.

“what?”

“yep. i think i was about 15. you were the first girl i ever really liked that way.” he smiles, recalling the memory. “it kinda sucked because i knew you wouldn’t even look at me twice but it’s funny thinking back to that time.”

~ 15

he watches the way her hair gets caught in the breeze as she takes off her helmet. two messy braids are shaken free, and his heart skips a beat or two, or seven, when she turns around with the biggest grin on her face.

she’s just won a race, another one, and he’d be so jealous if it wasn’t her.

he thinks she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. george and alex go over to her, congratulating her, hugging her. he wishes he could do that. he definitely can’t.

she doesn’t see him, the only times that she does are when they argue, when they push eachother off the track and scream at one another across a gravel trap. the times when she plants her pointed finger in his chest and calls him dirty, the times he gets heated and calls her something he doesn’t mean under his breath. and she always hears him. always. he watches her eyes pool with tears every single time.

he wants her, in a way he’s never wanted anyone before. he’s never felt like this, wonders how he can make it go away. she hates him. she must.

he can never have her, so why even try?

~

“i had no idea you ever felt that way.” you’re quite shocked, really. you knew that you had this intensely charged sexual tension between you now, but you had failed to realise how far back this all went.

mutually, at least.

“i’d say i’ve done a pretty good job of hiding it.” his smile changes slightly. it was now a sad smile, one that conveys disappointment in himself, and that you hated to see. it reminds you of the one you’ve gotten used to seeing on your social media feed after he’d had a shitty race.

you sigh, bracing yourself for what you are about to say.

“you’re not the only one who hid it.” you raise an eyebrow, your face says ‘guilty!’

“no?” lando’s eyes widen at your revelation.

“i think we were 13. you gave me half a cookie to apologise for pushing me off track.” you smile coyly. “it’s kinda sad but 13 year old me died inside.” you laugh.

“so, we’ve both… liked each other.” lando assesses. you nod.

“when did you stop?” you inquire, scanning his face. you take in each detail, each individual freckle, the curve of his lips. he seems closer, all of the sudden, and that’s when you realise you’ve closed the space between you. lando is within reach now, it would have been so, so incredibly easy to shift even closer still; it was like you were in his gravitational field, reeled in by pretty, pretty eyes.

“who said i stopped?”

“oh.” you breathe.

~ 13

he snaps the crumbly biscuit between his fingers, trails towards her awkwardly. he feels bad, feels a strange pang in his chest that he doesn’t recognise.

he finds her around the back of her parents car, arms crossed, eyebrows scrunched, pouting hard. he thinks she’s cute.

“why are you here?” she whines.

“this is for you. i know it doesn’t make up for the race. i didn’t mean to take you out, i swear.”

he sounds panicked, sincere. her tummy turns funny.

he’s holding out a cookie, the children’s equivalent of an olive branch.

her face softens. she accepts it. they bite into their cookies at the same time.

it’s not the worst day in the world anymore.

~

messy kisses and soft whispers lull you to sleep.

his nose bumps yours every time your lips meet, gentle and plush.

you feel delicate in his arms, treasured. his lips press gently to your hairline. he’s different, softer than you’ve seen him since you were teenagers splitting cookies.

it’s the easiest thing in the world to curl into his side, mould together until you’re part of him, and drift off.

-

the heat wakes you up.

you stir, eyes fluttering open, searching for the source of the onslaught of warmth. it clicks quickly, and you realise that you hadn’t dreamt the events of the night before.

lando is in your bed.

lando had protected you.

lando had wanted you since you were stupid kids who didn’t know any better.

he is the heater that had woken you up, and suddenly you don’t care that you’re far too hot. you curl back into his side, head rests on his chest. it rises and falls softly, his heartbeat thrums beneath your ear. you are jealous of how pretty he looks when he’s asleep, relaxed and infatuating. you lose track of time, gazing up at him.

a sharp pain in your side makes you groan. you had fallen asleep in your dress, lando in his jeans and his shirt, and now you’re paying for it, your fingers searching for the zipper that was now digging into your side. your movements draw him out of his slumber, and when you look back at him, he’s watching you, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“you okay?” lando croaks, his voice deep and sleepy. it sends shockwaves through you.

“mhm. how did you sleep?” you ask, mindlessly running your hand over his jaw like it was the most natural thing in the world. a smile breaks out across his face, eyes fluttering shut once more.

“really fucking well.” he laughs, almost in disbelief.

“yeah, me too.” you smile at him, shy.

“what’s bothering you?”

“well, a human heater woke me up and now this fucking zipper is killing me.” you joke. it’s weird that this doesn’t feel weird.

“i am pretty hot i guess.”

“yeah, yeah.” you roll your eyes and stand from the bed.

lando sits up, resting on his elbows. his eyes follow you as you walk around the room. you take a bottle of water, drinking half of it before passing it to him. his lips wrap around the bottle and you have to turn away, the ache between your legs that you’d been fighting for months rearing it’s irritating head. you clear your throat, composing yourself.

“need to get this dress off.”

lando pulls himself off of the mattress, stalking towards you. you stop in your tracks and he meets you at the foot of the bed. his hands find your cheeks, thumbs smoothing over your skin in little circles, and then kisses you deeper than he did last night.

it’s impossible not to melt into him, hands running over his chest, his shoulders, and finally finding solace tangled in his curls. if someone told you the morning before that you’d wake up in lando’s arms, you would have cackled, urged them to seek medical attention, and probably spat in their face. how things change.

“i think you should keep it on, look so pretty.” lando breathes, staring down at you. you blush hard, leaning into him.

“but i’m uncomfortable.” you grin coyly. and then, a surge of confidence has you whispering: “i’ll let you take it off if you want.”

“let me make you comfortable first.” lando murmurs, dipping his head down until it rests in the crook of your neck. “want me to get you nice and comfortable, baby?” he kisses up your neck.

you cave, finally.

it takes him all of thirty seconds to have you spread out on his face, laying himself down on the mattress and pulling you on top of him so that you’re hovering over his lips. he mouthes at your panties for a second, getting his first taste of you, and then he drags them to the side, clearing a path. his tongue laves over your cunt, groaning as soon as he gets a proper taste.

your dress fans out over your thighs, and lando has disappeared beneath the fabric. you can tell he’s there, though, by the strong hands gripping onto your thighs, the tuft of curls peeking out, and the feeling of his nose bumping your clit as he buries his face deeper and deeper between your folds.

“lando.” you cry, throwing your head back. the straps of your dress are slipping down your arms, skimming your goosebump ridden skin. he just groans into your pussy in response, pulling you impossibly closer to his mouth, backwards and forwards until you’re grinding down on his willing tongue. you reach down blindly, grabbing one of his hands where it rests on your thigh, and your other threads through his hair, gripping tight as you revel in the pleasure.

lando pulls your clit between his teeth, grazing over the bud and you’re jolting, writhing above him. you feel like you’re going to die, heat pricking all over your skin, your tummy tight from the building orgasm. he’s so eager, sliding his entire face through your slippery folds, obscene sounds falling from his lips that ricochet through your quivering body.

tears prick your eyes when you finally let go, slumping forwards from the overwhelming sensation taking over every single nerve. he lifts you off of him, laying you back on the bed as you come down from your high.

“you okay, baby?” he coos, brushing sweat dampened hair from your eyes.

his lips are stained, dark pink and shiny, a mixture of enthusiasm and your slick coating them. lando scans your watery eyes, feral at how fucked out you look all because of him, and tantalisingly licks his lips.

“need you.” you moan, reaching out for him. his shirt is wrinkled where he’d slept in it and your shaky hands find the few buttons that are actually done up. you push the material off of his shoulders, pupils blown wide at the sight of his toned chest, at the feel of smooth, golden skin. you pull him in by the shoulders, swallowing him whole as you kiss him with everything you’ve got left.

lando’s hands find your thighs once more, running his hands over them to push your dress up your hips.

“wanted this for so long.” he whispers into the kiss, pulling away so that he can take the dress off of you. he looks ravenous the more he pushes the fabric up your body.

you feel vulnerable under his intense gaze, watchful eyes taking in every movement you make. you try to pull him back in for another kiss but he resists.

“let me look at you, please?” lando asks. “there you go, baby, let’s get this off, hmm?” he sits you up so that he can get it over your head, and you lay back, bare aside from your panties that he’d left in disarray.

he sucks in a breath, raking his eyes over the curve of your lips, your collarbone, the slope of your breasts. his gaze lingers there for just a second, before continuing further over your belly, the length of your legs. you want to hide away, pull him in so that he can’t look at you like this, or just dive under the duvet and stay there until you need to catch your flight.

“god, you’re so, so fucking beautiful.” he gasps, awestruck. he sounds speechless, and you feel yourself going red again.

“come here.” you whine. “needed you for so long.”

your admission seems to kick him into action, because seconds later, he’s on top of you, fingers grazing the band of your underwear while you fiddle with the button on his jeans.

“gonna be good for me, aren’t you?” lando stares you down, tone sending a shiver down your spine. you nod, batting your eyelashes. “words, my love.”

“yes, lando.” you affirm, arching into him. that’s all he needs to know, kicking his jeans away, boxers too.

“good girl. took care of me so well last night, now ‘m gonna take such good care of you.”

your eyes skim his body, honing in on how hard he is. your hand finds his cock, tentative at first, stroking over it softly. it’s heavy in your hands, red and dripping already. he wants this just as bad as you do. you continue to jerk him off, watching the way his eyes squeeze shut and his lips part, soft pants falling out. a low hum sounds from the back of his throat, and you wet your lips, threading your free hand through his hair.

lando opens his eyes at the sensation, gently batting your hand away. he dips down even closer, resting on one of his forearms. he lines himself up and your legs wrap around him instinctively. slowly, he pushes inside of you, his breath catching in his throat.

“fucking hell.” he groans, deep and guttural, something carnal sending shockwaves through his body. “been dreaming about all the ways i’d get to fuck you.”

your eyes roll back and you go languid in his arms, feeling every inch of him slide against your slick walls.

“want you.” you rasp, clinging to him, your fingernails leaving patterns between his taut shoulder blades as you beg for it.

“you have me, baby.” and then he kisses you, messy and slow, stealing the air from your lungs. you’re dizzy when he pulls away, sitting back slightly to change the angle. you cry out, feeling him even deeper and everything is more sensitive, warm. you roll your hips, meeting his thrusts deliciously, and he chokes out a moan as you clamp around him. “yeah, that’s it. fuck yourself like that for me.” he encourages.

this is all too much, too good. you have whiplash, physically and emotionally, eyes pooling with tears as the man you’d wanted so badly that you hated him for it rocks into you. lando hits the right spot every time he pistons his hips harder, and his nimble fingers slide up your abdomen, applying light pressure to your navel that makes you writhe.

“fucking perfect for me. gorgeous.” lando slurs, entranced by the sight of where you’re joined. he can see just how wet you are and it drives him insane, barrelling into you like a man possessed, drunk on every single way that your body responds to him.

his wandering hand finds your breast, kneading it before he traces your nipple. he watches the way it hardens at his manipulation, wetting his lips. he collapses back on top of you, sucking the bud into his mouth. you’re panting, whining beneath him as his tongue swirls over your chest, switching to the other side. you jolt, a silent scream scratching your throat when he slips his hand between your thighs, working your clit with the pad of his thumb. he’s rutting against you, grinding deeper, faster, uncontrollably.

“come on, baby. you’re so close, so tight for me.” he mutters into your skin. you nod frantically, your words lost on you. he kisses over your collarbone, the base of your throat, until he finds your lips.

“so close.” you sigh.

he stops.

“tell me you’re all mine.” lando growls, his entire demeanour changing. the tone of his voice almost finishes you off but you’re suddenly enraged. you’re too close for him to stop.

“c’mon lando.” you hiss, trying to move your hips but he has you firmly in place.

“need to hear you say it.” his hand slithers over your chest, finding a new home at the base of your throat. it makes you throb, the way his thick fingers wrap around you. slowly, his grip tightens, and you see an opportunity.

you buck your hips hard, whimpering at the sensation, but your plan works and now you hover over him. he’s still buried inside you, and you can feel him pulsing as you steal control.

“for once in your life, honey, shut the fuck up.” you smirk, mischievous in victory.

slowly, you build up your rhythm. he feels bigger like this, deeper, and you almost lose yourself in the small circles you make with your hips.

“knew you’d be like this. you liked giving yourself to me but i just knew you’d need to take back control.” lando teases. his hand is back around your neck, squeezing slowly, and you grind frantically, dizzy for him. “i was right last night, wasn’t i, baby? pretending to be my good girl when really,” he pulls you down so that you’re chest to chest. “you’re just a fucking brat.”

lando holds you close as he fucks up into you, feeling the way you go limp on top of him as the pleasure washes over you like a million electric shocks. you’re crying, tears pooling on his chest, because there is nothing you can do, nothing you want to do, but take it. he’s got you right where he wants you, and you’re loving every fucking second of it.

“yeah, baby, take it how you want it.” lando commands through gritted teeth, and you move your hips in a feeble attempt to match his speed. everything is slippery, everything feels wet and flushed.

the power play, the position, the frenzy he seems to be in as he fucks you, it all has you gushing, spilling all over him. you choke out a sob, shuddering as the elastic band in your belly snaps. lando stops his thrusts, replacing them with small rolls of his hips to help you through your orgasm.

a sharp breath and a string of curses from him give you the strength to muster the last little bits of energy you have left to look up at him. you pull your head up off of his chest just in time to watch him shatter into a million little pieces.

his neck flexes as his head rolls back, sinking into the pillow, his eyes tight. swollen lips part and your name falls from between them like a prayer. you can feel him filling you up, his hands tightening their hold on your hips like he’s scared to let go, like the world will stop if he does.

the world stops anyway, because then you’re looking at each other. really looking at each other.

it only takes a second for you to be drawn in and his hands leave your hips to cup your face. his calloused hands feel your skin, stroking over rosy patches on your cheeks. it’s deathly silent all around you, apart from the breathless pants you share.

swollen lips crash hard into yours and you melt. he’s still buried so deeply inside of you, your hips digging into his, impossibly close. you’re blindly reaching for any part of him you can get your hands on, and his big hands slide down your body until they meet the small of your back. ever so carefully, he flips you onto your back, easing your spent body into the mattress.

lando collapses on top of you, mouthes at your neck for a moment, delicate kisses making your eyes flutter shut. the eye contact almost sends you into cardiac arrest as he pulls out, oh so slowly. tease.

he holds you close in the shower, fingers massaging every part of you. sex and sweat are washed away, almost lovingly. you let the water run for far too long, content in clinging to him. it’s quiet, reflective time for both of you, exactly what it needs to be. you’re both hung up on questions that need to be asked, neither one of you brave enough to take the first steps. you know one thing, and one thing only: something has changed, in a forever kind of way.

your hair is stringy, half dry, and you’re stood in your underwear. your legs are still shaky.

“your flight soon?” lando asks. he’s stood in his boxers on the other side of the room, scrunching the water out of his curls.

“yeah.” your throat feels raw.

“and you’re going back to monaco?” he’s stopped what he’s doing now, staring at you. you can see the cogs turning behind his eyes.

you nod.

“fancy a sleepover?” he grins, boyish and careless. your heart falls to your feet.

you’re giggling when he sweeps you into his arms and kisses you into the freshly made bed. the sheets are on the floor by the time you finally remember you have a flight to catch.

you’re his now, you realise. he’s too beautiful for his own damn good.

-

“baby?” you hear lando call from his bedroom. you make out the faint sound of his footsteps making their way in your direction. he appears before you can even answer him, and he’s smiling softly at the sight of you bundled up in a blanket, sprawled across his couch.

“what is it?” you ask. the next thing you know he’s on top of you, peppering kisses over every single inch of skin he can get to on your face. “hey, get off, muppet.” you whine playfully, ruffling his hair.

“do you know how much i love having you here?” he murmurs. it’s endearing as fuck and you fight a foolish, dopey grin.

“you’ve mentioned once or twice…” you’ve been here since your flight touched down a week ago. you haven’t even been home to get clothes, not that you needed them in his company.

“we might have a teeny, tiny issue.” he squints, pulling a face.

“and what’s that?” you ask, your voice measuring equal parts cautious and amused.

“so, alex called…”

“oh, shit.”

“we have to go to dinner tonight.”

“we have to?”

“he’s suspicious as fuck. you do realise they’ve been plotting for us to happen for years,” you roll your eyes as if you say duh. “and also, you’ve been in monaco for a week and haven’t seen him once. oh, and also, the last time we saw them, we were running away from a fucking crime scene.” lando smiles sarcastically, and you sigh, defeated.

before you can reply, your phone is ringing somewhere beside you. you root around in your blanket searching for it and when you find it:

“son of a bitch.” you exclaim, showing lando the caller ID. alex is one persistent motherfucker.

“hey girl.” alex singsongs down the phone before you can even say hello.

“hello to you too.” you can hear the fear in your own voice.

“dinner. tonight. although, i’m sure lando already told you.” alex teases.

“why would lando have told me? what?” you choke. lando slaps his hand over his face. your voice has gone up several octaves. not suspicious at all.

“so, you’re at home? you haven’t been at his place since last week?” the playful interrogation begins.

“why would i be with lando?” you try and feign disgust at the implication. it does not work.

“because you hate fucked after he beat up that perv? i have to say, i didn’t think he had it in him but he’s been in love with you since he was like, ten, so, you know-”

“bye alex.”’

“you’re not denying it-“

“bye alex!”

you’re flaming red when you throw the phone to the other end of the sofa. lando, as on brand as ever, is cackling into a pillow.

“he is such a fucking shit stirrer.” you bury your face in your hands, slumping back into the fuzzy cushions.

“well, he’s right about one thing.” lando trails off. suddenly he’s looking anywhere but you and you see him gulp, hard, swallowing his words, like he’s too afraid to bare his soul.

“huh?” you ask gently, sitting up to reach out for him. “what’s wrong?”

“we need to get ready for dinner. that’s what he’s right about.” lando says, standing from the sofa and walking towards his room. you’re suspicious, watching him go with furrowed eyebrows.

-

“lando, behave! you’re the one making me go to this dinner.” you squeal, batting his restless hands away.

you’ve made it as far as the elevator before he pounces on you, caging you in against the metal walls.

“but you look so good, can’t help myself.” he mutters between kisses on your neck, pressing himself even further into you.

the hand that finds it’s way between your legs, exploring beyond the hem of your skirt, is the one that makes you press the button for his floor. why have plans when you can have sex?

he gets through the door to his apartment at lighting speed and carries you all the way to his bed.

when you’re sweating and breathless a good hour later, half of the bedding on the floor with your clothes, you realise you never cancelled your plans.

lando is drawing shapes into the bare skin of your arm, kissing over your shoulder as he does so. his eyes are dropping from all of the over-exertion and you want to count each and every freckle on his face while he falls asleep. he’s cute like this, soft and yours.

and idea comes to your mind, and as if he can see the lightbulb, lando half raises an eyebrow at you. you giggle, somewhat evilly perhaps, and scramble for your phone on the beside table.

“what’re you doing?” lando groans, pouting as his outstretched arms try to find you.

“getting even.” you state.

with the phone in your clutches, you roll back over towards him, holding the camera above you both. he hears the shutter sound as you snap the picture, and peers closer to see the screen. when he sees the groupchat open, he quickly understands what you’re plotting.

“may i?” you ask for his consent.

“are you kidding? go for it. that’ll shut them up.” he laughs sleepily, muttering something about how this is the most lando thing you’ve ever done

FROM: you

TO: the groupchat

1 image attached

couldn’t make dinner. something came up xx

“alex always thinks he’s right, this’ll teach him for being such a little shit.” you flop back into bed even more satisfied than you were before.

you hear lando inhale shakily beside you.

“he is right sometimes you know.” he repeats his earlier words.

you hold your breath. his eyes say so many things that are too delicate to be spoken yet.

“like… like what he said on the phone?” your voice quivers with anticipation, fear. your heart is thunderous, hammering away like it wants to escape the clutches of its cage.

“yeah. i-“ he stops himself. you don’t need him to finish, you know which two words follow. they can follow in good time, you both know it.

“me too, lando.” you coo.

he’s beaming, eyes half shut. you watch as he falls asleep, the both of you ignoring the way your phones are vibrating so aggressively that they might buzz their way off of the night stand. you lose count of his freckles, but it doesn’t matter.

you’ll have plenty of time to figure it out.

-

let me know what you think :D

-

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[madelynraemunson]

NEED…MORE…EX-HUSBAND!EDDIE…I AM FERAL AND FOAMING AT THE MOUTH PLEASE BLESS US MORE I’M BEGGING

IT’S ANGST O’CLOCK!!!

𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠)

ex husband! eddie x fem!reader

“all that still matters is ‘love ever after’ — after the life we’ve been through” — life after you // daughtry

WC: ~950 words

3AM. The witching hour.

The air smells of twilight musk and marinating dew. It's pitch black all around you, the nearest gas station being an agonizing 1.3 miles away. You're also 10 miles from Hawkins, pulled over in nothing but platform heels, a black mini dress, and expired pepper spray in your purse. To make matters worse, the only friends up who seem to be up at this hour are hungry bears and obnoxious, chirping crickets. And skinwalkers if you're where you think you are.

A horrible ending to a girls night out. Just what you needed.

Alone and afraid, you decide to call the number one person on speed dial, whose gradual distaste towards you renders itself very evident from the moment he answers the phone.

"What?! I'm trying to sleep."

"Eds." you whimper into the phone. "I need you."

There's a long pause in response to your petrified sobs, followed by the clicking noise of a phone keyboard before you hear cursing and the frantic ruffling of sheets.

"I’ll be there."

"Well?"

You watch as Eddie crinkles his forehead in concentration, examining your car while his soot-tainted hands explore every crevice of your hood. Routine maintenance has never been as issue because you've always had a personal mechanic at your feet. But since the divorce, you've gotten pretty bad about it. Otherwise, the you and Eddie wouldn't be stuck in this situation. Obviously.

"Weeelp." Eddie sighs, stretching out every bit of the syllable. He slams the hood shut. "She's just about blown out. You're lucky that thing didn't overheat too much with you in it."

You've prided yourself in not needing a man to change your tires, wiper fluid, OR oil nowadays. But in the midst of your journey towards self love and independence, you somehow forgot that your car could also overheat.

"Oh..”

You try not to watch intently as Eddie cleans his hands off with his hanky, the one he keeps neatly tucked into the back pocket of his flattering dark, denim jeans. Your eyes then trail towards his leather jacket, which housed his broad shoulders and delicious waist so nicely, you would've thought it had been tailored just for him. And you could just about fall right into him when he angles his torso towards you, his sculpted jawline glistening in the moonlight — but nearly not as glistening as those gorgeous chocolate eyes, the ones he used to his advantage during your marriage to get you to forgive him for whatever mistake he seemed to make that week. Before you could fawn any further, Eddie snaps you back to reality.

"When was the last time you put some coolant in this thing?"

"Some what?"

"You keep Prestone at the house?" Eddie pesters. "Antifreeze? Peak?"

Cheeks reddening, you shake your head. "No.”

"You get this thing examined often?"

“Not unless you do it," is what you shamefully admit. “For the most part…”

Eddie's face scrunches out of frustration. He knew this would happen.

"God, I hate when you do shit like this," he snaps. "For all I know your engine light could've been on for weeks."

"But it wasn't." you mutter softly. You're already scared. This is the last thing you need.

"You know your car in particular needs to be serviced every half year?" Eddie mutters. "Oil changes, tire rotations. Your break pads have also seen better days. Which is concerning."

"Ok.”

"And how many times do I have to say you gotta pay attention to this fucking radiator?!" Eddie hisses, slapping at the hood again with his open palm. You shudder at the loud *THUNK* noise that echoes across the woods. "We wouldn't be out here in 3AM if you had just taken proactive measures.”

"Stop YELLING at me!" you whine, a piece of your inner child spewing outwards to combat Eddie's belligerent word vomit.

"I'm not yelling." Eddie firmly insists.

He turns his back to you and starts towards your car again.

"Yes, you are, you always do." you croak miserably, balling your fists up in frustration. “You always do Eddie, and I'm sick of it! You always want to be right, and you always kick me when I'm already down to-"

“Okay, okay, okay." Eddie hushes you. He runs a frantic hand through his hair. "Agh, fuck, okay — I’m sorry.”

He looks at you with guilty, glimmering eyes as you shift your body away from him. Guarded, tense. Closing up all access of you towards him because he lost those rights a long time ago. Muttering to himself now, Eddie scrapes at the pebbles beneath his feet, fiddling with the chain of his wallet before he dares to speak to you again.

"I just worry about you a lot."

You peer back over at him. "Deadass?"

He snorts. "Well yeah."

With your permission Eddie stalks closer to you.

"I don't want to wake up to a phone call talking about my wife's car bursting into flames — with her inside." He rolls his eyes. “All because she hasn't been maintaining her shit.”

"I have been," you fib just a bit, though most of it rings true. just forgot to iron out some little details."

Eddie relaxes his shoulders.

"I know," he surrenders. “I guess there's a part of me that secretly hopes you'll still need me somehow. Some way, or another."

"I'll always need your presence," you reassure him.

Your ex husband softens up. He always thought that during your separation you had found another Superman to save the day. Some other handsome devil to fix your car and maintain all the leaky faucets inside your once shared home. But as you've always insisted, nobody has your back like Eddie. Your very own George Reeves. At your disposal for you and you only.

He suddenly wraps his arms around you, and as you predicted you ease right into him, the comfort and familiarity of Eddie melting away any ounce of hostility you guys have ever harbored against each other. You both have your days, but the love you two have for each other has always remained the same. Just changed form, is all.

"I'm glad you're okay," is all he says.

'I'm glad you're here," you sniff. "Always playing hero, per usual..."

"Well for you, always."

He plants a gentle kiss on top of your forehead as you two sway around in unison. You hum to showcase your endearment.

And he'd do it again.

———

🏷️ tagging peeps who seemed interested in this lil universe 🫶🏼✨ thank you guys for reading :)

@highinmiamiii @potatobeans99 @mediocredreams @joshlmbrt @eddiesxangel @enam3l @mmunson86 @davidblowies-blog @thatissonnina @oskea93 @aurora-austen @lesservillain @madeofmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @eddiesghxst @munsonssweets @nailbatanddungeon @swiss-mrs @winchester-angel @belokhvostikova @curlyjoequinn @strangereads @marrowfrog00 @shadyunknowncreation @tuolcaniacoc @catherinnn @prestinalove @pleuviors @cinemabean @calumfmu @littlexdeaths