#too many thoughts. cutting this post off here

[borkunlimited]

Take Your Time, Miss Deer (Sylus x Reader)

In a tailor shop tucked in the calmer side of the N109 zone is a little room where all clothes of many different designs come together under the delicate hands of an unassuming deer living in the den of all sorts of beasts and sitting on them is the dragon who wears your clothes.

Your many interactions with Skye, Mr. Sylus’ messenger or-

-Sylus is waiting for you to finally figure out he is playing his own messenger.

A Deer Hybrid! Reader x Dragon Hybrid! Sylus Fic

Tags: Sylus x Reader, Hybrid AU, Suggestive Themes, Fluff, Predator/Prey

Author's Note: I was hesitant to cross-post first but after some thinking, maybe I should.

Enjoy!

AO3

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3

1: My Dearest, Oblivious

The odd little crow came by again.

It was around afternoon when the crow landed on its usual perch on the open window of the studio where you are working and as usual, it carried with it little gifts.

Usually, it brings you beautiful flowers.

Sometimes, it brings you gemstones and ores.

It is such a sweet bird.

You don't know what to call the odd little crow so you just named it 'Daisy' and you even made a little ribbon that you tied around its neck with its name embroidered in it, not too heavy so it can still fly.

Just a little good luck charm.

Daisy only left when it gave you its recent gift on the palm of your hand and after you gave it a quick kiss on its head, you bid it goodbye, telling it to not do anything rash since the little thing is flying around the N109 zone. You can only assume it most likely has a nest around here as well.

Daisy is not the only one who showers you with gifts.

The first patron of this tailor shop, Mr. Sylus, also sends you gifts. He became one of your regular clients as well and you have sewn everything he requested, from suits to casual attires, each piece you worked on diligently.

Every finished work, he sends over a gift. Hairpins, vinyl records, and even tickets once to an opera for you and your father.

The bright red gemstone Daisy brought you cast a myriad of light as you held it up against the sunlight pouring inside your little studio together with the intricate stones that decorated the hairpin you are wearing right now.

You always wondered where the little crow finds such trinkets.

"You should take a break, sweetie."

The unfamiliar voice immediately made you put the little gift that Daisy has brought to you inside your apron pocket, your thoughts cut short.

"Oh, are you lost?", you asked, turning to face your surprise visitor, tucking your hair behind your ear. "The fitting room is just straight ahead, sir."

Every now and then, you get a glimpse of the shop's clients, almost all intimidating like this person before you. He is as imposing as the other men and women your father talks to, being the face of the business side of this humble tailor shop. Your eyes traced the dragon horns on top of his head and his tail while he leaned against the door frame, his crimson gaze trained towards you.

Back then, every fiber of your being will tell you to run, run as fast as you could away from a hybrid like him yet here you are, treating him like you are of the same kind.

"Lost? No, sweetheart. I never get lost," he replied, pushing himself off the door frame.

Sylus had always been meaning to finally visit you himself after Mephisto returned with a ribbon around his neck, bearing a different name.

And it was hilarious how Mephisto seemed to wear your gift and his ‘new name’ with pride.

The door behind Sylus closed with a soft click and it only took him a few strides to stand beside you, his footsteps silent on the hardwood floor and his tail swishing lazily while he studied your little studio. The space was lit by a few windows and the lights of the room cast a warm and cozy glow on the various fabrics and sewing materials scattered on every available surface.

In the midst of it all, is you, an unassuming deer hybrid, your deer ears twitching slightly while you studied him. A small smirk found its way on his face when he noticed the stray threads had found their way around your antlers and his eyes lingered on your neck for a moment.

You’re even adorable up close.

“I am well-aware of where the fitting room is,” he continued, his gaze steady, “But I think I'll stay here a bit longer, if you don't mind.”

“Oh, please make yourself comfortable,” you replied, casting him a small glance before you continue working on sewing together the fabric for Mr. Sylus' suit jacket.

You assume this man is either a client or maybe one of the clients brought him along, knowing that usually all of your customers bring an entourage of their security and sometimes, their guards manage to find their way here in your little studio where you work.

They tell you stories every now and then, ask you about your work, but mostly they content themselves observing while they wait for their bosses to wrap up their business with your father.

“What are you working on, sweetie?”

“A suit.”

“A suit, huh? And who is the client?”

“Mr. Sylus,” you answered, almost carefree, your hands tracing the intricate design you have embroidered in it.

There was a brief frown that crossed his face.

You don’t recognize him.

Sylus had always suspected that you don’t know the face of the man that you’ve been tailoring for all these months. Do you even know what kind of man he is? Or does your beloved father keep you in the dark, letting you stay here in your own world?

A selfish part in him secretly relished it-

-That you didn’t gaze at him like the monster he is.

He leaned against your work table beside you, taking a moment to admire the meticulous and detailed stitches of your work. How your delicate hands moved with such precision and dexterity, the needle an extension of your own body.

But he just had to test waters a bit, see how far he could go in this charade.

“You’re his personal tailor, sweetie?”, he asked, feigning innocence.

“Mr. Sylus said I am,” you nodded, putting together the fabric of the sleeves with pins before you run it in the sewing machine.

Most of your works during your first months of living here in the N109 zone are mostly requests from Mr. Sylus and then from there, the business skyrocketed. Your father said it was your talent but you also believe it was his business acumen that made it stable.

You wouldn’t be here without your father looking after you.

“And is he a good client to you?”, Sylus continued to inquire, crossing his arms while he observed your practiced movements, the way your hands held the fabric with such grace.

He wanted to know. Wanted to hear what you actually think of him.

“He always sends me gifts.”

He watched you tuck your hair behind your ear again, the light from the desk lamp catching the glimmer of the hairpin he has gifted you. It is quite satisfying, being here in person and seeing you wear one of his many gifts to you.

“Gifts, you say?”, he asked, leaning a bit closer, pretending to study your hairpin. "Such as..”, his eyes flicked down to the accessory, “This little thing here, sweetie?”

“It was one of his first gifts,” you nodded.

“His first gift,” he drawled, his lips curling into a smirk, “You do know that he’s a very dangerous man, don’t you, miss seamstress?”

You paused from your work.

People talk so much in the N109 zone and they seem more lax when they enter the shop, laying out all kinds of rumors. One of the main subjects of these rumors is Mr. Sylus, of course. The common theme across all rumors about him is that he is a very dangerous man but other than that, it is very difficult to get a better picture of who he is.

People claim he is quite cordial, as long as you fulfill your side of the bargain. Others disagree, saying that he is a man that takes without remorse.

Every rumor seemed to contradict each other so you simply stopped trying to make sense of them.

“Do you think he is, Mr.-?”, you tilted your head at him, unsure of what to call him.

“Oh, how rude of me,” Sylus said, his tone slightly playful, “I haven't introduced myself, have I, sweetie? I'm Skye.”

He took another step closer, his broad frame now towering over your petite figure, "And to answer your question, yes, he's a dangerous man. But shouldn't you know that already, little doe?"

“But what makes you say that?”, you asked, your brows slightly furrowed and he had to resist the urge to run his fingers on the fur of your deer ears drooping slightly, “Do you work for Mr. Sylus?”

In your eyes, Mr. Sylus is a generous man. Maybe a little shy because you never understood why he never hands you his gifts himself.

Oh, sweetheart.

You really are oblivious to the true nature of the man who wears your clothes and showers you with gifts in return, aren't you?

Sylus chuckled, his tail swishing lazily behind him while he watched you try to piece everything together. You are so gentle, tucked away in this corner of the N109 zone, in this little grove not so far from the den of all beasts, and the most formidable beast of them all is right here, standing right in front of you.

Yet you don’t even flinch. Why is that?

“You could say that, sweetie.”

“Like a bodyguard?”

“Sure, something like that.”

Your gaze shifted from him to the door behind his back. If this man is here, surely, Mr. Sylus is also here as well.

You can actually finally see your first client, the person who gave your father capital to start this shop and-

-you can thank him for all of the gifts.

Before you even had a chance to take a step towards the door, Sylus quickly reached out and grabbed you, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you back against him. His tail swished in front of you, blocking your path.

He held you firmly against his front, feeling your small frame press against him as he kept you in place. He could feel the subtle shift in your demeanor and he silently wonders why you are so excited to meet the man behind all the gifts even when he already told you ‘Mr. Sylus’ is a dangerous man.

“Ah ah ah, sweetheart,” he teased, his voice a low, rough murmur. “Where do you think you're going?”

"Mr. Sylus should be in the fitting room since you are here," you replied, trying to pry his grip from you but his hold further tightened instead.

Oh, how amusing you are with that little cute pout on your face.

“Is that why you were so eager to go? To finally see the man behind all the gifts?”, he whispered in your ear, the fur of your deer ear grazing the tip of his nose slightly as it twitched.

“Please let go,” you insisted, still trying to wriggle free from his hold and you slightly tensed up when you felt his tail wrapped around your ankle, the cool, smooth scales making contact with your skin.

“No can do, sweetheart. You're not going anywhere just yet,” he grinned, his voice rough and playful, “And there's no one in the fitting room, sweetie. It's empty.”

"Mr. Sylus.. isn't here?", you asked, confused and slightly disappointed while you paused from trying to pry his fingers off of you.

Technically, he is here. You just think he is someone else.

“No, little doe, I’m afraid he is not,” he answered, his breath warm against your skin.

Sylus watched your hands fall to your sides while your deer ears drooped, feeling the disappointment radiate off of you as you realized your beloved client isn’t present and he slightly frowned at the sight.

Now, he can’t have his favorite tailor all sad.

“What’s this?”, you asked, your eyes moving towards the small and rectangular box handed right in front of you.

“It’s a present, sweetie,” Sylus answered and a small smirk graced his features, “From Mr. Sylus.”

Honestly, he never thought there would be a day he would refer to himself as another person but here he is.

His fingers lingered on your skin for a moment when he gently placed the gift on your hands before crossing his arms, watching you open the cover.

It was then Sylus knew he had to come here just to see that expression you made over and over again.

Your face lit up with joy, an adorable smile spreading across your face as your eyes traced the shape of the newest hairpin he had commissioned from an artisan. Your deer ears perked up in excitement and delight at your newest treasure.

It was all so precious.

“Mr. Sylus sent you here to give me his gifts?”, you asked, slightly giddy as you shift back and forth.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he confirmed, nodding his head slightly, “Mr. Sylus had some things for you and asked me to deliver them.”

“Can you tell him-”

You bite your bottom lip, stopping yourself before the favor you want to ask spilled from your mouth. It feels odd asking one of Mr. Sylus’ men to carry a message for you on your behalf and you don't want it to look like you had a crush on the man whose face you haven't seen.

And you heard he is very old.

You just want to say thank you. That you are very grateful for his generosity to you and your father.

“Go on, sweetheart,” Sylus said, motioning for you to continue, “You can tell me, I'll pass it along.”

“Can you tell him that I love it?”, you asked, holding the box close to your chest.

He gazed at you fondly and for a moment, his smirk was replaced by a small smile upon hearing your request.

Earnest.

Innocent.

There are so many words he can describe you when you hear your sweet voice laced with gratitude.

“Of course, sweetie,” he replied softly, “I’ll make sure to pass that along.”

You don’t see the real him as a monster.

“And can you tell him..”, you spoke slowly, hiding your face with the box to cover the faint blush on your cheeks, “Can you tell him he doesn’t have to send gifts? I don’t want to take advantage of his generosity since he already pays us so much.”

“You're not taking advantage of anything, sweetheart,” Sylus replied, shaking his head slightly at the thought of not sending you gifts anymore, “Gifts are meant to be given and shared, or else they're useless, right?”

Perhaps Mr. Sylus’ messenger is right and you are simply not used to being showered with gifts not just by him but by your other clients who clearly appreciate your works. It is certainly odd that you have received more acknowledgement and praise in this place compared to where your father and you used to live.

Sylus smiled when he heard you softly murmur “You’re right” as you nodded slowly. He wanted to keep talking to you, to watch you work but he took a quick glance at his watch and he knew he had to cut this visit short.

He still had a few matters to attend to.

“Duty calls, sweetie,” he said, pushing himself off your desk and straightening his clothes.

His hand rested on the handle of the door and he turned briefly to you before he stepped out. He took in your form, your petite frame, your hairpin, and the bouquet of flowers he gave to you last week on the vase by the window, slightly wilted.

He will have to bring you fresh ones next time. Personally.

“Until then, little seamstress.”

“Until then, Skye.”

────────────────────

Mephisto is not an ordinary crow.

Sylus had created the mechanical crow from scratch. His feathered companion is programmed for intelligence gathering and had followed every task he assigned to it to the letter from watching over any of his business associates and his men to recently, bringing you gifts.

Initially, Sylus will send Mephisto every now and then, letting it carry little trinkets he thinks will brighten up your day but lately, the crow is doing it to his own accord, going as far as pilfering anything it thinks you will like from his various collections. Not that he minds.

“Still wearing your gift, I see,” Sylus commented, his eyes landing on the crow sitting on his perch inside his office.

His fingers brushed the length of the white ribbon tied around its neck and Mephisto tilted his head, letting out a caw as if telling him that he deserved to show off the gift you had tied around its neck just like how Sylus wears all the clothes you tailored for him with confidence.

“Look at you, so entitled,” Sylus pointed out, giving the end of the little ribbon a gentle tug, his finger grazing on the embroidered letters, “She named you ‘Daisy’, you know.”

Mephisto let out a loud caw this time, fully aware of its other name and telling him that it is the best name while it continued to preen under his touch.

Traitorous bird.

Since when did the loyalties of his own mechanical crow shifted from him to you, the little seamstress? Unbelievable.

Sylus’ thoughts were interrupted when Mephisto let out a soft beep, its wings flapping to sit on his shoulder and he raised an eyebrow, looking at his creation with wry amusement.

“What? No more quips for me?”, he asked sarcastically.

Mephisto tilted its head and there was a certain glint on its eyes, excited on what it is about to show to its master who has been pining for you for months.

It projected a hologram in front of him and Sylus can’t help but snort at the scene replaying before him.

In the glass of the window of Mephisto’s usual perch on your studio was his creation’s reflection and he watched as you pressed a chaste kiss on the top of its head before letting it fly away, bidding it to take care and visit soon.

Of course the bird is getting kisses.

Perhaps he had given too much autonomy over Mephisto because he is certain it is intentionally making him irritated, as absurd as it sounds.

He is jealous. Over a damn bird. His own creation. That he modified the program to look after you.

“You’re really enjoying all this attention, aren’t you?”, he asked, glancing at the crow who just ruffled his feathers in an almost smug manner.

“Ungrateful bird.”

Yet, the gentle scratch he gave under Mephisto’s beak says otherwise.

[emotionalhottiee]

Made For Each Other!

Chapter 4: Butterflies!

Aleah

After pulling myself together i got back to work on the social media platforms. Which consisted of trimming videos to post for the socials and queuing up scheduled post. I sent Paul a quick text just to go over everything and to check in to see if he needed me to do anything else. Once he let me know i was all set, i made my way to the gorilla to get some additional behind the scenes footage. And just watch the rest of RAW. I definitely can see why people get super attached the wrestling it brings out all the emotions.

As i sat down watching, the guys from earlier came into the gorilla to get ready for their segment. And the man that i had bumped into earlier was standing in front of me. His 6 foot something frame towering over me.

“Hey Girl, happy to run into you again” he stated in a higher pitched voice mimicking a woman. I’m not gonna lie it was actual funny in a corny kinda way. Once my little laughing spell was over he switched back to his regular deep voice. “My name is Austin” he stated, reaching his hand out for me to shake. I returned the hand shake while introducing myself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you” he said showing me all 32 of his pearly white teeth.

I got the feeling he was going to try to kiss my hand, but it almost felt as if he stopped himself. He must have read my body language. At least that’s what i was hoping. Feeling a sense of relief that he didn’t do that he released my hand after what felt like forever.

Feeling the small bit of tension in the air. His friend finally introduced himself “Nice to meet you Aleah, i’m Grayson” he spoke in a thick Australian accent “Nice to meet you too.” I replied sending him a small warm smile.

We dove into the conversation about me being the new girl around here. And my mind wandered off thinking about how many more times, i was going to have to have this conversation. But my thoughts were interrupted by Graysons very loud obnoxious laugh. Pretending that i was listening to what he was saying i joined in on the laugh. Totally clueless as to what i was actually laughing at.

Jey

Making my way out of my dressing room, i was walking towards the gorilla a few minutes early, just so i could hang out before my segment. When i heard Graysons loud ass laugh. Seeing Him and Austin there i peeped Aleah was standing in front of them. The three of them, just laughing their asses off.

I’m not gonna lie i felt a lil jealous seeing them all up in my girls face. I’m tripping hard. I don’t know what came over me, but i decided to claim what’s mine. So i walked over to them, making sure to stand right next to Aleah. Putting my arm around her shoulder. The look on Austin & Graysons face quickly changed from amusement to confusion. Looking down at Aleah, she looked like the cutest little deer caught in the headlights. Clearly that caught the three of them off guard. Not trying to make myself look crazy, i tried to lighten the mood. “What’s so funny yall?” I asked.

I feel like i ruined the mood completely.

“Oh nothing i was just telling Aleah, a little yarn from back home mate” Grayson replied trying to ease the tension. I glanced back down at Aleah and she went from looking like a deer caught in the headlights, to more a confused look. But she still wore a small smile. Fuck, i hope im not making a myself look like an creep.

Lucky the awkward tension was cut, when the producers motioned to Austin & Grayson they needed to be in place. They exchanged “see you laters” mostly with Aleah, but i wasn’t tripping. At least not on them. As they walked off Aleah placed her hand around my waist giving me a small reassuring rub on the back. Which i was thankful for.

I’m glad i didn’t make myself look like an idiot.

My thoughts were interrupted by Aleah’s soft voice thanking me. Slightly confused i asked her what she was thanking me for. She looked up at me wearing that beautiful smile of hers, replying “because i spaced out while that Australian boy was talking to me. And i didn’t hear shit he said. But i was caught off guard by his laughter. So i just laughed along with him hoping he wouldn’t ask me questions or anything.” Letting out a small sigh of relief that, that was all that she was thinking.

Glad it wasn’t because of me.

“So what are you up too”, she asked still holding on to me. As i kept my grip on her shoulder, but not too tight. “Well i just came up here for a quick segment. Then i was gonna figure out what to get into tonight” i replied. “Well what do you usually do for fun”? She asked me. I took a minute to think about it. Cause shit there is rarely a show taped in the city. And i would usually go back to my hotel after a show. “Well i don’t know yet, i’m not used to being so close to home after a show. But i’m trying to get into something since i don’t have to travel for a few days”. I stated simply unsure of what i was going to get into.

“What you getting into tonight lil mama”? I asked staring down at her small frame. “Well i was just going to go home and play some Mario Kart until i fell asleep” she shrugged. I let out a small laugh cause she was dead serious. “Damn what you like a homebody?” I asked outta genuine curiosity. Shawty seemed like a homebody, but you never know she might be a party girl. “Yeah i guess you can say that” she responded. “I went out a lot when i was in college, especially when my ex had a game out of town. But i can’t turn up like i used to, auntie be tired” she stated with all seriousness. I couldn’t help but to laugh, this girl definitely had a goofy side to her.

I got to see more of that.

For the next few minutes we continued talking and joking around. Then the producers came up to me, and let me know i was up next. “So lil mamas, you gonna be here, when i get back?” i asked staring down into her eyes. Something about those brown eyes, had a hold on me. “Of course, I’ll be right here” she stated cheesing.

Before i could say anything my music queued letting me know it was time to go. So i released Aleah from my grip. Slightly surprised she let me hold onto for that long. And made my way down to the ring.

Aleah

I couldn’t find the words to describe the butterflies i had in my stomach after that encounter with Jey. I can not believe how fast i find myself being infatuated with this man, and it’s only my first day on the job. But i am. I couldn’t help but smile watching him go down to the ring. Turning my attention to the monitors in the gorilla. I was in awe at how the WWE crowd embraced Jey. Singing his theme song word for word, doing the signature yeet dance. It just showed me a different side of him, one that piqued my interest in getting to know him even more.

Even though there a part of me that was completely smitten. I couldn’t ignore the sense of worry. Those troublesome thoughts started to rack my brain.

“Am i rushing into something too soon?” or “Am i trying too hard to get over Dominic too soon?”

I sat down having an internal conversation to calm myself down. While i may not be as over Dom, as i thought i was, or would like to be. There isn’t any reason to be so conflicted. That relationship with Dominic is now in the past, because it is something i am not interested in fixing. And while i feel myself catching feelings for Jey, we don’t have to jump into a relationship tomorrow. And that is okay to have feelings for someone new. Whenever the time comes for Jey and I to have a conversation about “us” we will. And we will proceed with whatever “us” is from there.

No need to worry!

I quickly rid my mind of those anxious thoughts to get back to watching Jey. Everything will happen the way it is suppose to happen. And that Jey & I met for a reason. I just want to enjoy my new found friendship with Jey. And not worry about the things i can not control.

Before i knew it, i was snapped out of my thoughts by Jey walking into the gorilla. “You good lil mama” he asked presumably concerned by whatever face i was making while consumed by my own thoughts. “Yeah of course” i replied, trying to reassure him that i was fine. He didn’t push any further which i was thankful for.

We continued our night with casual conversation. Jey didn’t have a scheduled match so he spent the rest of the show keeping me company, while i filmed & uploaded any extra content i could get. The more time i spent with him, the more butterflies i got. I just never met a man, that could check off all of the boxes so suddenly. I have always been told i’m “too picky”, but i feel like i am not. I just don’t believe in settling for what you don’t want. But there was just something special about Jey. Something that made me look at him with such adoration. The butterflies in my stomach were not going to stop anytime soon.

Once the show was over Jey told me to meet him back here after we grabbed our belongings, so he could walk me to my car.

Twenty minutes later we met back up, and just as promised he walked me to my car. “Well seeing as how you’re just going home to play Mario Kart tonight. We finally made it to my car, and stopped to say our goodbyes. “How about we hang out tomorrow?” He asked while rubbing the back of his head, almost as if he was anxious. “Yeah that sounds fine. I’m usually off of work around 3 o’clock, then im all free” I stated. “Okay how about we go out for dinner later on tomorrow evening” he asked, no longer rubbing his head, but still seemingly anxious. “Sounds like a date then” i smiled back at him hoping he felt a little better. “Just text me what time, and i shall see you tomorrow” i responded, trying to contain my excitement. “Alright bet I’ll see you tomorrow lil mama” he said back to me, smiling showing off his bottoms row of grills. I hadn’t even noticed them earlier.

We embraced in a hug. And i couldn’t help but breathe in his cologne. God he smelled so good. Finally parting from our hug, he watched as i got into my car. I waved goodbye to him before pulling off, to head home.

I can’t believe how enamored i was by this man, but i was loving every minute of it.

Feels good to meet someone new.

Series Disclaimer

Catch Up!

Tag list:

@prettypink-princesss @isabella-2025

@sheaabuttaababyy @uceyliyahh @mindairy

@yana3sworld @christinabae

[kathlare]

some things never change

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando is caught off guard when a viral post shows Amelie and Shawn Mendes together, stirring old feelings he thought he had buried.

Wordcount: 1.9 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

February 28th, 2022 - London, United Kingdom

liked by shawnmendesbrzl, amelienation, and others

ameliedaymandaily: Spotted today! 👀 Amelie and Shawn out for a stroll in London! 😱 This is the first time we’ve seen them together in YEARS! 🌆💖 Anyone else feeling the old sparks? 🔥

View all 3,182 comments

fan1: uhhh… they’re basically each other’s first love 😳 this feels like a sign → fan2: @fan1 LITERALLY! You don’t just forget your first love like that 😭 → fan3: @fan1 i’m lowkey not mad at this, but also confused? 🤨

fan4: WAIT are they back together?? 👀 → fan5: @fan4 idk if they’re back, but the vibes are there 🥺🔥

fan6: this whole situation is giving me we were meant to be vibes 😩 → fan7: @fan6 girl, we can only hope 🙏 but I’m here for whatever happens 💅

fan8: guys, they’ve both had relationships since then—let them grow 😤 → fan9: @fan8 yeah, but can’t we just enjoy the nostalgia for a sec?? 😭

fan10: am I the only one who’s still bitter about Shawn and Camila? 🤡 → fan11: @fan10 honestly, SAME! But now’s the time for Amelie and Shawn 🔥🥵

fan12: too many red flags for me. idk why ppl still ship them 🙄 → fan13: @fan12 You know they have that first love magic, but I see your point. 🧐

fan14: Why do ppl act like Shawn's a saint? Didn't he literally just date Camila?? 😬 → fan15: @fan14 facts! This whole thing is so overhyped. Let them live and move on 😴

-------------

Lando sat in the barber chair at Max's house, staring at his phone with a blank expression, the buzz of the clippers echoing in his ears. Theo, Max’s younger brother, was behind him, expertly cutting his hair, but Lando barely noticed. His focus was entirely on the screen in front of him. He’d just scrolled past a few posts from fans, some about the new song Amelie had released, others about her recent Grammy wins. The usual mix of praise and admiration that followed her every move, always with the same undertones of jealousy, admiration, and curiosity. But then, something caught his eye.

A gossip post, the words so stark they seemed to jump off the screen.

Spotted today! 👀 Amelie and Shawn out for a stroll in London! 😱 This is the first time we’ve seen them together in YEARS! 🌆💖 Anyone else feeling the old sparks? 🔥

Lando’s stomach dropped. His fingers tightened around his phone, and for a moment, the room seemed to blur around him. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it wouldn't go away. Amelie and Shawn? Together? He hadn’t seen her in so long—hadn't spoken to her in even longer—and now she was walking the streets of London with him?

Theo, completely oblivious to Lando’s inner turmoil, let out a low whistle behind him. —Hell, Amelie looks hot as fuck these days. Damn. I don’t know how you let her go, mate.—

Lando’s face immediately flushed. He gritted his teeth, glaring at the screen, unable to escape the mental image of Amelie laughing with Shawn, their bodies close, perhaps too close.

Max, who had been lounging nearby, his legs stretched out in front of him on the couch, gave Theo a sharp look. It was one of those looks that said, Shut up, now. Max stood up quickly, his eyes scanning the phone in Lando’s hand.

—What are you watching?— Max asked, his voice a little too casual.

Lando, still trying to hold onto some semblance of control, shrugged. —Just... some gossip. Nothing important.—

Max raised an eyebrow, walking over to get a closer look. His eyes flicked over the post, and then he turned to Lando, his expression unreadable.

—You okay, mate?— Max asked, leaning against the counter. His tone was cautious, knowing full well what a blow it could be to see Amelie and Shawn back together—especially after everything Lando had been through with her.

Lando tried to brush it off, his hands twitching in his lap. —Yeah, just... I dunno. Maybe they’re just friends again. You know how it goes. It’s not a big deal.—

Theo laughed from behind him, finishing up Lando’s trim. —Friends? C’mon, mate. Look at that picture. She’s looking at him like she’s in love.—

Lando felt a hot wave of frustration build in his chest. His fingers were trembling, and his heart was beating too fast. He exhaled, trying to keep himself together.

—I don’t know. It’s... It’s not what it looks like, okay? They’ve been friends for years. That’s probably all it is,— Lando muttered, though even he didn’t believe his own words.

Max crossed his arms, his gaze softer now, but with an edge of sympathy. —You can’t stop it anymore, Lando. She’s gotta move on at some point. You know that. You guys... it wasn’t gonna last. You were in a weird spot, and so was she.—

Lando’s frustration flared up like a fire, and he slammed his fist down on the armrest of the chair, causing Theo to jump a little. The clippers buzzed to a halt as Lando’s voice rose. —I fucking know, okay?— He was trying to keep it together, but it was like a dam bursting. —I know she has to move on. But fuck, I don’t want to see it. Not like this. Not with him.—

Theo exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Max, clearly unsure how to navigate the tension. Max, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as unsure. He leaned back against the counter, sighing heavily, the weight of the situation settling over him.

—Mate, I’m not trying to be a dick here, but...— Max began, his tone calm but firm. —You can’t keep holding on to this. You’ve already tried. And look where it got you.—

Lando’s eyes shot up to Max, his face hard. —I didn’t ask for your fucking advice, Max.— The words were sharp, bitter, and they hung in the air between them. He felt the heat rise in his chest as his emotions swirled into a mess he couldn’t make sense of.

Max didn’t flinch. He wasn’t going to back down this time. —Look, Lando, I know you care about her. But you’ve gotta face the reality of it. She’s moving on. And you... well, you’re still holding onto something that doesn’t exist anymore.—

The words hit Lando like a punch to the gut. He clenched his fists tightly, nails digging into his palms as he stared down at the floor, breathing hard. His mind was racing, but he couldn’t focus on any one thing. It was all too much. The anger, the hurt, the jealousy—it was all mixing into something ugly, and it was all over a girl he couldn’t get over.

Lando stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. His hair was only half-done, but he didn’t care. His heart was racing, his blood boiling, and there was only one thing that could calm the storm inside of him.

—Lando, what the fuck, mate? Where are you going?— Max’s voice cut through his thoughts, but it was too late. Lando was already halfway to the door.

—I'm leaving,— he shot back, his tone clipped and filled with frustration. He didn’t have time for another heart-to-heart with Max, didn’t want to hear any more about how he needed to "move on" or "let go." All he wanted to do was escape.

He was already pulling on his jacket as he reached the door, his mind made up.

—I'm gonna see Luisinha,— he added, though the words felt like acid on his tongue.

Max’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he stepped toward Lando, but didn’t stop him. Lando could feel the weight of Max’s gaze on his back, but it didn’t matter. He had to do something to distract himself from the pain that was suddenly consuming him.

Luisinha was always the easy option. The one he could turn to when he needed to bury his feelings for Amelie under someone else's warmth, someone else's smile. She was safe, uncomplicated—nothing like Amelie had ever been. And now, with Amelie out of his reach, maybe it was time to throw himself into whatever distraction he could find. He just couldn’t stand the thought of being this torn apart over her anymore.

Max didn’t stop him, but Lando could feel the unspoken words in the room. He could feel the weight of Max’s disapproval, but at the moment, it didn’t matter. He didn’t have time for it.

Lando’s car roared to life as he sped down the streets, barely paying attention to the road as his mind raced. What the hell was he doing? He wasn’t ready to move on from Amelie. Hell, he didn’t even know how to—he had barely gotten over her the first time around, and now it felt like it was happening all over again.

But if Amelie was going to be with Shawn, then what choice did he have? He couldn’t just sit around waiting for something that would never happen.

Lando didn’t remember much of the drive to Luisinha’s. Just the sound of his own thoughts, loud and relentless in his head.

Amelie. Shawn. Amelie. Shawn. Over and over again.

By the time he got to her place, his blood was still fucking boiling. He barely knocked before Luisinha opened the door, her face softening into surprise.

—Lando?—

He didn’t answer. He just stepped forward, grabbed her face, and crashed his lips against hers.

Luisinha gasped against his mouth, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she melted into him, her fingers curling around his neck.

Lando didn’t think. He just lifted her up, his hands gripping her thighs as he carried her inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

He just wanted to forget.

Even if it was only for a little while.

[fall0utmind]

my only thought about Alex was that Marс (probably as always) downplays the scale of his problems after their divorce and Alex can only believe him. Although it's unlikely, he knows Marс like hell, so it's possible they don't live together for some reason. Which adds to Mark's loneliness and his pain, because even Alex can't be around and feels like that, because I don't believe Alex would be cut off from this situation, they love each other too much. As for the "He passes out very publically after a race" , well, that should be a big boom. Perhaps Valentino (as I understand you stick to the canon version until 2018) will be shocked. Yeah! It wasn't all a hoax, and Marc really loved him all the time. Mental crisis and horror, grandpa is almost going crazy (this time for real). And it's probably during this period that Marc feels so bad that only Valentino can help him (the effects of pills and lack of heat can probably be so bad that he ends up in the hospital). Well, shaky attempts at a truce will begin. Alex and his family will probably fight with Vale (metaphorically, although a real fight would be funny, for example, if Vale didn't come out as a winner, because he feels guilty anyway) You didn't mention Luka, but maybe he and Peссo will even try to do something before the big bang happens, but Marс probably won't believe them and won't listen to them. So then they will have a very strong influence on Valentino in his search for redemption, including from the position that you are our alpha and you have failed us.

Hello, what a bunch of fab ideas. Where do I even start!!

Okay, yes, I love the idea with Alex. I think it's also super important that Alex is a beta. It means he doesn't understand the draw to Vale or the need to do xyz. Alex kinda just assumes that he just doesn't understand. And yes, potentially, in this universe, they don't live together. I can imagine marc being very reluctant for help and playing down his issues. So he wouldn't want Alex there all the time, seeing his pain and discomfort. Obviously, that means he's more separated from Alex, which inevitably makes it WORSE. OUCH. So marc hasn't cut Alex out in the same way as everyobe else cause hes still pack, but there's more distance.

Okay I have so many ideas about the passing out post race.

2025 championship, marc is racing pecco for the title. I can't decide whether I want it to be set in Valencia, last race vibes, or if I just want Marc to clean sweep it and wrap up the championship earlier than that?

Either way, marc crosses the line, and his body just gives up. The whole race has been hell. He's overheating, sweating buckets, and there's blood dripping down his chin. He thinks it's from his nose. He's dizzy. He might throw up.

The bike feels wild underneath him, the engine hot. The world is beginning to feel fuzzy around the edges. He tires to act normal, to celebrate, but he's so, so tired.

He tries to pull the bike to a stop to celebrate with the fans. His muscles are weak, and they slide. He just about control it, laughing it off. When marc eventually stops, his legs are shaking, and he goes to stand, but he can't weigh barely. The whole world is spinning now, nausea churning in his gut. He needs to take his helmet off, gasping for air, hands scrabbling for the clips. His hands are shaking too much. Probably for the best, people would freak out about the blood.

Hes on the floor now, how did he end up on the floor. People are shouting, screaming for medical - cheers of celebration turned to horror. Marc thinks it might be a dream. The officials stand over him, he can see their mouths moving but can't discern the words.

Alex's gead comes into view, and marc tries to reach out, but his hands feel like lead. He just wants to sleep. He's safe now. Alex is here, so he lets go.

**

In the garage, people are watching on in horror. Valentino looks like his world has just been turned upside down. Imagine the carnage. Alex pulls up by where Marc collapsed, then pecco.

Alex is shouting, concern on his face. Pecco is similarly tense, freezing when he sees Marc motionless. It's horrifying.

They pull marcs helmet off, and there's blood. Why is there blood. Cue very dramatic vale. He's having a breakdown. He's an idiot. The guilt is incredible. He did this double points because not only is there the human guikt but also, he hurt an omega!!! His omega!!! And he caused all the pain! When he should have been protecting marc.

Anyways, they take him to the hospital like you said, because it's bad. It's really bad. It's defo a case of only vale can help. He needs a pack. Hence, I get an opportunity to write more vr46 x marc bonding scenes. Which is my fave. I might talk about the dynamics there in another post, if people want??

Marcs family are madddd! Remember, marc has been completely rejecting his omega. He goes home for xmas (pre reconcilliation) and refuses to nest. Only sits on the edge of his mother's. Won't scent with anyone, has practically forgotten how to. Can you imagine the pain. The horror. (They don't know about the things Vale said. Just assumes it's marc isolating himself or getting upset - genders dysphoria). So when they find out that Marc had been kicked out of the pack... well, they aren't happy.

Omg yes, luca and pecco. They are incredibly suspicious of what's happening with marc. Especially when pecco and marc become teammates. And Marc never being in the pack room. But marc is avoiding them like no tomorrow, because it hurts!!! So yes I think they're mad at vale too.

I also, as a side note, think the whole grid and vr46 pack would love having a marc pack. And older pack omega? Someone to guide and provide love and calm and balance to the pack??? Absolutely amazing.

Thank you for this ask!!!!

[strangerthingsfanworkrecs]

I would love to recommend @tomtomslongdong as a *reader* highlight. It is always such a joy to see what they’re reading but also to read whatever comments and tags they leave behind. Let alone to be a writer and receive their feedback. One of the greatest supporters in the fandom, truly if no one else cares for a fic I wrote but they enjoyed it, it’s like the ultimate stamp of approval.

This week, we're highlighting @tomtomslongdong as a commenter! All recs this week will be from her recs.

Tomtom answered some questions about what she does to find fics and to leave great comments under the cut

Why Stranger Things?

I went from casual watcher in anticipation of season 4 coming out to falling in love with all the characters in the space of a few weeks. Friendship, loyalty and messy family dynamics are such a core part of st, which is something I latch onto when I’m watching anything. And maybe.. there were some characters(Eddie) that I grew even more fond of(definitely Eddie). I even remember seeing edits of Eddie at the picnic table but it wasn’t until I had watched that first episode of season 4 that I truly got it. It’s been 84 years but I’m still in love with that man.

What's your favorite ship (platonic or romantic) to read?

I read x reader the most but I adore platonic stobin and I wanna read about them more. Their dynamic is everything to me. Infact Robin with any of the st girls too. I look up this one fanart of robin and Carol Perkins a lot. A LOT.

How do you typically find fics?

At the start I would brave the tags more and I do still do that but genuinely it’s from blogs I like and follow reblogging them. I’ve curated my own little balance of people reading stuff I know I’ll like and also being introduced to fics I might not have even thought of reading before seeing their reactions.

Are there other forms of fanart you enjoy? How do you find them?

Fanart that’s been inspired by fics or concepts, just witnessing one artist inspire another is so joyful. Also when an artists self inserts themselves into their art! It’s seriously one of the coolest things ever. My favourite thing to do is trawling the tags of an eddie blog as I go on a deep dive. I scrape the barnacles off that boat allllll the way back to the start. I find all sorts of fanart and work that maybe I’ve never seen as I didn’t gravitate back to tumblr till later in summer ‘22.

What's your tip for leaving comments on works?

Just tell them how it made you feel man. Scream it at the writers. I’m no good at articulating myself at all but sometimes you read the exact thing you needed to read and all is right with the world. Let them know they’re very much to blame for your emotional state when they post. And who knows those writers might occasionally grace you with the biggest gift of all (more lore on the world they’ve built directly from their mind via an IV drip known as the DMs)

Is there any fanwork that really stood out to you?

hockey!eddie has an iron tight grip on me and if anyone could find the stats on how many times I’ve viewed dr-aculaaa and hearsegrrl art on him, you’d take my phone away

Is there anything we didn't ask that you'd like to add?

Just that it’s wild, there’s this little community in my phone that’s so smart? So talented? And I’ve formed what I hope I can call genuine friendships from this and yet no one in my day to day real life knows I’m just kicking around in here haha! I get to be my weirdo self with my weirdo friends in peace and I think that’s lovely.

[tyrannuspitch]

okay. endgame thoughts. the scene in new asgard...

it's interesting that even when thor is at rock bottom, he doesn't show outward sadness. he's not just drowning his feelings, he's constructed a sort of cocoon - as well as the alcohol and the escapism, he's isolated himself except for friends he knows won't challenge/disrupt his coping mechanisms, he's apparently specifically avoiding asgardians, presumably because it's harder to face the *people* he's failed - and he's actually projecting a mask of happiness.

it's not the most convincing mask, but still - he's smiling, he's laughing, he's warm. he shows affection, he introduces people to one another, and he offers them drinks. he's acting as a host, which is a royal trait, and how he's used to relating to his friends on asgard.

he's trying to create recapture a sense of community, of the kind he feels most secure in - a community that centres around him. (notably: an entourage, not a family. so no-one outranks him, and no-one gets too close.)

and he's trying to earn support and approval via... maybe not admiration, but something like it. love is something thor's always had to win, and he wins it by being giving, and by concealing his own needs. hence: depressed thor is sooo happy and amiable and agreeable, why don't you come in and live in his house forever, he doesn't mind.

and then there's also... anger. or not. he can turn his anger on and off at the drop of a hat; he's lending it to his friends as a tool. you could say he's using it protectively, but it's also without much direction, or any genuine need. and he's angry when hulk/bruce tries to ask for his help, but even then, he's mostly just passive-aggressive.

there's an interesting sort of disconnection going on. anger is the easiest to feel out of his negative emotions, but even that he doesn't really look at face-on... perhaps because so much of thor's anger is aimed at himself. but also perhaps because anger has always been a tool to him, and he doesn't have any direction now, so what's the point?

i think it's also interesting that he's shown arguing with children. what he says to that gamer kid sounds childish, but what he says to korg positions him as authoritative, and could even be interpreted as parental.

i think both of those things were present in how he related to other children (especially loki) when he was a child himself. thor is regressing, but thor is also someone who's had to grow up far too fast. childhood and adulthood were blurred then, and they're blurred now. (which is also just part of how ptsd works. and to be frank - we've seen odin's parenting. whether thor knows it or not, his trauma started a long time before t1.)

anyway. all this is a mask - but it's a weak one and thor knows it. for the most part, he's hiding. he's severely neglecting his physical appearance, not even brushing his hair - i think he might be literally struggling to look at himself in the mirror.

and it's also a mask whose fragility is known. korg and miek know his triggers and there's a formal agreement to avoid them. and it's probably quite hard for thor to have shown even that much vulnerability.

but there's an interesting kind of contrast here - on one hand, thor compulsively covers up vulnerability to avoid provoking his own feelings of grief, guilt, etc. but on the other hand, thor is very obviously not okay and he looks like he's lost his shame.

i think he is ashamed of his drinking, his depression, his weight gain, etc. but... as well as struggling to cope, i think he might be deliberately not hiding these things, because he thinks he deserves the shame. because he thinks others respecting and trusting him is dangerous. if he isn't worthy to protect his people, he can at least make sure no-one mistakes him for someone who is again...

so. thor is trying to escape his own trauma as far as he possibly can, but he's also limiting himself to escapism that mean no-one is relying on him for anything that matters. thor has decided it's better for him and for everyone else if he disappears.

[starry-bi-sky]

this just in: danny fenton is just as much of a mask as Brucie Wayne? - another danyal al ghul au

Turns out, being placed in a civilian family who have no knowledge of your background is actually detrimental to the health and development of a child assassin due to lack of proper support! Surrounded by strangers in a foreign city, Danyal Al Ghul does as assassins do best. He hides. Espionage is one of many teachings one learns in the League, and it only takes half a day for Danyal to construct a new persona to hide behind: Daniel Fenton.

By the time dinner rolls around, Danyal al Ghul is safely and securely tucked behind the face of Danny Fenton; brand new adoptive child of the Fenton family who came from overseas. A shy, quiet little boy with a thick accent and curly hair, with brown skin and blue eyes, and an avid interest in the stars. The best fictions are always cobbled together in a little bit of truth, it's some of the only truth he ever lets through. He apologizes in a meek voice for his behavior early, he didn't mean to be rude, and he watches the three of them eat it up with coos.

Lies roll like silk against his lips, he struggles to meet their eyes and offers them his weakest, shyest smile. It's too easy. It's easy to go from there.

Danny Fenton, adoptive son, shy and awkward and unconfident but friendly. Who struggles in his classes and isn't the brightest, but tries his hardest. He makes bad jokes and has a quick tongue and a sarcastic mouth. He wants to be an astronaut. He's got the best aim in school, and is a terrifying dodgeball player. He's one of the least athletic kids in his grade.

It's like playing two truths and a lie, but there's only one truth, and the rest are lies. It's easy to pretend when he knows it's insincere.

Danyal Al Ghul, grandson to the Demon Head. Deadly, trained assassin. Has spilled blood, has had blood spilt from. Environmentalist, animal activist. He loves the stars. He owns a calligraphy set. A sharp tongue, an even sharper blade. He's clever, quick-witted, he would be top of his grade if he tried harder. He purposely doesn't.

He misses his family. He misses his mother, and he misses his brother. Mother visits a few times a year, so few times that he can count it on both hands. He cherishes every visit, as brief as they are. It helps remind him who he is.

Sam and Tucker are Danny's best friends. They've never met Danyal, but Danyal's met them.

It becomes routine to become Danny Fenton. As familiar and as easy as pulling on a shirt in the morning. Danyal wakes up and is always first to the bathroom in the mornings; stares at himself in the mirror until he can finally see Danny staring back at him. At night, he locks his door and sheds the mask.

Dying throws a wrench in his mask; splits a crack straight through the porcelain. He's able to smooth it over with sandpaper and liquid gold, but it's a little hard keeping his ghost form under wraps. It instinctively wants to shift to show his true self. Danyal can't have that, he's spent four years as Danny Fenton, he'll spend another four as him as well. Even if the feeling of the hazmat suit in his ghost form feels restrictive, like a too-small shirt suctioned to his skin that needs to be peeled off.

He'll live. Er-- well, you know what he means. It's frustrating however, trying to keep his Danny Fenton mask up even as Phantom - fighting in the air is something he needs to get used to, and the sudden propping of powers throws him off. But he is nothing if not adaptive, and he hates that he needs to slow his own skills down in order to keep pretenses up in front of Sam and Tucker.

The first time Danyal summons a sword when he's alone, is one of the few times Danyal gets to grin instead of Danny. He's fighting Skulker, and from an invisible hilt he draws a katana from thin air. It startles them both. Skulker takes a step back at the smile that spreads across his face.

They're both silent as Danyal examines his new sword.

"Do you know what people like me do to people like you, poacher?" Danyal finally asks him, the accent he began to hide a few months in slipping through. He drops all pretense, dragging the flat end of the blade slow and appreciatively against his palm. It's a good make, and when he cuts it through the air, it slices through like butter. He looks up at Skulker with a smile; "are you ready to find out?"

When Sam and Tucker ask about why Skulker seems so skittish around Danny now, Danny shrugs at them and says with a playful smile; "I don't know, I guess I kicked his butt too hard after our last fight." and he watches as Sam rolls her eyes exasperatedly, and Tucker snickers with his own joke.

By the time he reunites with Damian before their 15th birthday, Danyal is buried beneath so many layers of Danny Fenton that his brother will need a shovel to dig him out. He's not sure what he'll find.

[outlying-hyppocrate]

well. did you fucking miss me.

[schnaf]

22 days until ode's 22nd birthday

day 15 - rock, paper, scissors

[sillywebz]

skitters around like a beast. Hii ❤️ok im going 2 go ramble in the tags now👍

[felixisfruity]

does anyone know if there‘s a tag limit

[nightingale-prompts]

Nightwing gets a sidekick introducing: "Batboy"

Continuation of this post: "Danny has Bat wings"

|Next|

Dick tries to tell himself that he's better then Bruce. He's not going around taking young orphaned boys with unique abilities willy-nilly. No, he very careful. Besides this is first- well second sidekick.

He's doing a public service anyways. You can't have a kid with giant bat wings just falling from buildings. If Nightwing hadn't stepped in to stop those goons trying to catch the kid and sell him then who knows what would have happened. What if they tried to cut off his wings and turn the boy into a bloody trophy for the Bats?

There are many villains in Bludhaven who'd take the boy out or take him in. Dick already had a sinking feeling that Heartless would try his hand at killing the kid after all he targets the weak and helpless like a coward.

It was easy enough to convince the boy to be his friend. Dick did have natural charm and charisma after all. All it took was a meal from batburger and a fruit cup to get the kid to open up.

Danny (apparently his family gave him a normal name) didn't live with his family anymore due to ideological differences. That difference was that they thought he shouldn't exist anymore and wanted to turn him into an experiment. Poor kid didn't even get to finish his freshman year of school before he had to leave. He was a small town vigilante for a few months before the incident.

Dick saw an opportunity but was subtle about it. He invited the kid to live with him until he got his education. Its also totally ethical because the kid was a vigilante already.

Everything kind of went by quickly. Dick had done everything possible to hide Danny until he could come up with a plan of how to tell everyone.

True Dick didn't "need" a sidekick but come on, look at him! He's a boy with bat wings! Dick could put a little cowl on him and dress him up like Batman. I mean he's not a dog but it would be funny. The irony there, the bird-themed hero now had a bat-themed sidekick. That is the universe's way of sending a message.

After training Danny Dick learned that the kid had an endless supply of energy and ADHD that rivaled his own at that age. The kid also couldn't fly, it was actually closer to gliding which was still useful but he kind of looked like a flying squirrel when he jumped off ledges.

The term issue with taking Danny in was that Dick was still a Wayne and while he could hide the kid while he was swinging through Bludhaven, Dick Grayson could not.

Danny could hide his wings like they weren't even there whenever he wanted to look human. Which was a start, next he needed a new identity. One that wouldn't tip anyone off.

Dick needed to pull some strings without alerting Barbara or Tim. A new name was forged: "Daniel Nightingale" (Dick patted himself on the back for that one).

With that Dick was ready to let Danny out in the field. For the most part, Danny was as reliable as any Robin if not a bit crazy. Danny was way too charming for his own good but also completely feral. The public adored the domino-masked kid in his green and black costume. Danny didn't wear a cape because of his wings so he used them as a cloak.

When citizens saw them in public they'd offer the kid fruit cups and candies just to get close enough to see his wings. The people of Bludhaven were also excited to have their own version of Robin since Gotham had so many. Also, the kid was so marketable. Look at the way his wings flapped when he was excited.

Danny's or more specifically "Batboy's" presence would not go unnoticed.

Well, this can't end well.

Welp. Dick should have expected this. He couldn't even be upset. He doesn't regret anything that he's done.

Danny was still in bed, actually it was a hammock which was more comfortable for a bat. Dick wondered if he could sleep upside down. The kid was comfortable here and probably better off here than in Gotham. Once the adoption goes public however things will get complicated. Danny may end up Bludhaven's sweetheart or outcast. He'll probably end up fine...probably.

[beloveds-embrace]

Okay what if (and stop me if I'm wrong here I'm new to A/B/O) the guys see someone flirting with the designation-less reader and they start subtly start marking them with pheromones to tell everyone else to back off?

I love this idea so much ugh 😩 scenting in the omegaverse always makes me so jdjsjen and no worries! Nothing about what you said is wrong and welcome to the blessed cursed space that is a/b/o

Original post

It started with Price and Ghost stepping into the armory.

You hadn’t noticed them at first, too focused on trying to edge away from the overly friendly Alpha soldier who just wouldn’t take the hint, no matter how disinterested you made sure you looked. He was leaning in closer than necessary, voice dropping lower with each word like he was trying to make the conversation feel more personal. Though your nose picked nothing, you just knew he was probably, likely, drowning the area with his stench.

You didn’t know how to stop it without making a scene. It wasn’t like he’d done anything wrong- just too many compliments, too much interest in your plans after hours, too much weight in the way he said your name. It left you off balance, unsure if you were imagining the tension curling low in your stomach. Unpleasant tension, as if youmd accidentally eaten spoiled food.

These days, it seemed as if you either garnered no attention, and when you did, it was unwelcome attention. At least it was different and far more pleasant with the 141.

“So, love, I was wondering-“

Then Price cleared his throat.

It wasn’t loud, but it cut through the room like a gunshot, sharp and commanding. Both you and the soldier froze, heads snapping toward the sound, and there he was- Captain Price, standing in the doorway like he owned the entire building, eyes locked right on the man in front of you.

Ghost was just behind him, silent and still as a shadow, but the weight of him filled the room like a second presence- dark, heavy, watching, shoulders tense like Price. You’ve been with them long enough to tell when they are angry based on body cues, and right now, that’s what they were.

Not for the first time, you wondered just what they’d smell like. Would it be heavy and harsh on your nose? Somehow, you doubted it. Then again, Soap did tell you that angry Alphas smell like burnt rubber most of the time.

You eyed the way your… admirer’s nose wrinkled, jaw tight, eyes shifting around.

You hoped it smelled worse.

The soldier stumbled over a few words before making an excuse to leave. He didn’t even try to finish the conversation- rude- and barely managed to keep his composure as he slipped out the door.

Letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your shoulders relaxed slightly as you turned to thank them- but the words caught in your throat when you saw the way they were now looking at you.

It wasn’t anger, exactly. It was something… sharper. Something that made your pulse quicken and your palms feel clammy, even though you hadn’t done anything wrong.

But then Price strode towards you and nodded, low and firm, clasping a hand on your shoulder, and Ghost lingered just long enough to brush his shoulder against yours before following him out the door.

… weird Alphas.

“Weird Alphas.” You said outloud as well, huffing.

You thought that was the end of it.

It wasn’t.

It was subtle, so subtle that you almost didn’t notice at first.

Soap was the easiest to miss, playful and touchy by nature so much so even one as people-averse as you were comfortable next to him by now. He slung an arm over your shoulders whenever you were nearby, leaning into your space like it was nothing. He’d linger there just long enough that your skin was warm before pulling away, flashing you a knowing grin you didn’t understand.

Gaz was more deliberate. He’d pass you things- gear, water bottles, paperwork, pens- and his fingers always brushed yours and lingered. Small steady touches, leaving traces of his warmth on everything he handed you, leaving traces of his warmth on your skin. When you worked together, he’d lean in close enough that his presence settled over you, wrapping around your skin like a second layer. Your shoulders and thighs would touch, and sometimes you swore you could feel a deep purr coming from him.

Price didn’t touch you often, but when he did, it lingered and was acutely felt. A hand at the small of your back to guide you through a crowded hallway. A warm palm resting against your shoulder during debriefings, right where your faulty scent glands are. Solid, steady touches that felt heavier than they should’ve- clearly intentional even to the likes of you, and yet you didn’t want to really, truly acknowledge them.

And Ghost- Ghost was the worst.

He didn’t say a single word when he draped his jacket over your shoulders after a long, rain-soaked training session, the heavy fabric still warm from his body and shielding you from the wafting chill. You’d tried to give it back later, but he pushed it into your hands with a low, demanding “Keep it.” That left no room for argument. You didn’t think much of it at first- just a practical gesture- but you caught the way the others looked at you after, the raised brows and faint smirks that made you second-guess what it really meant, especially when you found yourself wearing it long after the cold had faded. You’d tried wearing your own jacket, but the look he gave you had you sighing, leaving, and returning to wearing his.

You didn’t understand it at first, didn’t recognize it for what it was. But others did.

It was possessive. Territorial.

The stares started- quick, assessing glances from the other soldiers that led to widened eyes. People moved out of your way in the hallways, gave you more space than before. Conversations shifted when you walked into a room, voices dropping, eyes darting toward the men who always seemed to hover just behind you.

You didn’t know what to make of it.

And then Soap grinned at you over lunch one day where you wearing a shirt of John’s now and Ghost’s jacket, leaning close enough to bump his shoulder against yours, and said, “Looking good, bonnie. Don’t think anyone’s stupid enough to try sniffin’ around you now.”

It took you a second too long to process what he’d said. When you finally did, your eyes darted toward the others- toward Price, who didn’t even look up from his plate, and Gaz, who only smirked and in your shock, slipped the bracelet he was wearing on your wrist. Toward Ghost, who met your gaze with something dark and unreadable before leaning back in his chair like he wasn’t affected at all. No; he was satisfied, like a smug bear.

You swallowed.

It should’ve felt suffocating, overwhelming, but it didn’t.

It felt… safe. Secure in a way you didn’t know how to explain. The guy that had been bothering you had even requested a transfer.

You didn’t say anything, didn’t call them out on it.

But later, when Price pulled you in his face and rubbed his face, his chin and beard all across your neck, you didn’t move away.

The “good girl” you got was all you could think about hours later.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Hard Launching ∘°∘♡∘°∘

Summary: lando and y/n wanted to hard launch their relationship after dating secretly for a while. lando finds the perfect way to do so.

☘ ln x reader ✧˖*°࿐

☘ fluff + humour ✧˖*°࿐

masterlist ☾☼

lando and y/n had been discussing for a while about hard launching their relationship. they had managed to keep it out of the media for an entire season, but the media liked to paint lando as a villain, in more ways than one. not only were they attacking his skills on track, they began collecting pictures of lando with women, no matter how many years ago, and publishing them with articles about him being a womanizer.

the funniest ones were the pictures of lando and her sister out on some bonding time. reading those articles always made y/n laughed, and she would be lying if she said that she didn’t have them bookmarked in her browser for a pick me up when she was having a bad day.

at first, they had thought of doing a simple post with a cheesy caption. enough to let the fans knows that he was off the market again. but, it also felt kind of boring, and that was not lando or y/n’s style.

they discussed it for weeks, looking at different social media websites for inspiration, until it struck lando. scrolling through instagram, he’d found the perfect way to hard launch his relationship with his girlfriend.

when y/n asked him, he said, “you’ll just have to wait like the rest of the world, my love. but, i know you’re going to love it.”

y/n waited, just like he had told her to. she waited for two months, until one day, in the middle of her work, she received the instagram notification of lando posting and tagging her. this was the moment, y/n thought.

opening instagram, she found a reel, instead of a post or a story like she assumed. quickly, wearing her airpods, y/n clicked on the reel, increasing the volume in the background.

the reel opened with someone recording lando as he walked, head down and concentrated. the person recording said, “excuse me, what are you listening to right now?”

lando took out one of his airpods, and said, “my girlfriend yapping,” and then walked away.

the reel immediately cut to different instances of y/n talking and lando patiently listening. they were all sped up videos, and y/n watched her animated hands as she ranted, and lando listening, changing his position every so often. the music in the background was a lively, jaunty sound, and it fit so well with the reel.

there were a series of videos, from their home, from the paddock, from conference rooms where they were waiting for zak, or even from the gym where lando worked out, and y/n basically followed him, still talking his ear off. there were multiple videos of them on facetime as well, or screenshots of their hour - hour and half long conversations.

y/n laughed. it truly was the perfect way for lando to hard launch their relationship. it described them perfectly, if she did say so herself.

scrolling through the comments, she saw a lot of fans crying that he was a taken man now. she saw some saying things like, “this is the realest representation of a relationship.” there were some hate comments too, but they were stupid, so she ignored them.

she commented on the post as well, typing, “wait till i send you a 20 minute voice note on my lunch break” to which lando immediately responded with, “can’t wait, i got my airpods and my phone fully charged”

y/n laughed again, opening her text messaging app, and sending a quick “i love you this was perfect” to her boyfriend.

·̩̩̥͙＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊·̩̩̥͙

hi! i hope you guys enjoyed this! it came to me while i was driving to college! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @anamiad00msday

[airybcby]

If I Could Never Give You Peace

( bllk boys when your secret relationship is leaked by paparazzi)

a/n — wrote this on a whim after listening to peace by taylor swift

content — some nsfw but not explicit, fem! reader, cursing , all characters are 18 or 18+, slight ooc maybe?, some characters are repeated

synopsis — what happens when your relationship is leaked?

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' i'd give you my sunshine, give you my best ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' everyone thought you'd broken up '

listen, you knew dating a good soccer player in high school was a big deal, but you didn't realize how big of a deal it really was when he went pro.

this was the same boy ( now man) that you'd been dating since you were 14, so nothing really changed your views on him. if you could love him through his awkward phase, and he could love you through yours, there was no way you'd break up.

again, you didn't realize that your relationship was such a big deal. it wasn't that the two of you were a secret, it was more of a 'private not secret' situation.

so when the two of you woke up in your shared bed because of just how many notifications the both of you were getting, you knew something was up.

and low and behold, something was wrong. when you opened any social media the first thing you saw was a strangely amazing photo of you and your long-term boyfriend kissing. really, if it wasn't a paparazzi photo, it would be your lock screen.

"aren't we just the cutest?" he asked you, phone thrown back onto his bedside table as if he didn't have a care in the world. (and he really didn't, not in this case)

truly, the only thing that may make him angry in this whole situation is the fact that he got woken up far earlier than his usual routine by all the commotion.

but of course, as he was dozing back off, you were reading the comments, as any loyal significant other would.

soccerluvr45: omg is that is gf from high school? i thought they broke up

okay, yeah. he had a rather public instagram account in high school that his rabid fans had found that had pictures of the two of you, but you'd never broken up?

reading through the many comments, it was like everyone had collectively decided the two of you'd broken up.

"mhm...just ignore it. the pr lady will deal with it." he mumbled as he grabbed your phone from your hands, laying it beside his before wrapping his arms around you.

"go to bed, 's too early to deal with all this."

his fans were silly, if they could see you with this bed-head man right now, they'd see there was no way the two of you would ever break up.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ NAGI SEISHIRO, yo hiori, NIJIRO NANASE, hyoma chigiri

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' pr nightmare '

anyone who knew your boyfriend knew he was...a little extreme.

and unfortunately for you, this also applied when your relationship became public because of a slight slip of focus from the two of you. it wasn't that you were trying to keep your relationship a secret, you'd already been together a year now, but you also weren't trying to out yourselves.

yet, one singular minute when the two of you slipped away to the bathroom together at a soccer banquet...well lets just say a paparazzi was scarily ready to snap someone, anyone's, photo.

so here you were, sitting in a terrifyingly big office with your boyfriend and almost his entire management team.

"do you know what this could do to your reputation?" his manager asked. "it's just two adults doing adult things, they should've been in that bathroom! that would've gotten them—"

"okay, sir..."the pr woman cut him off, ever too enthusiastic to be talking about your private lives.

"you just need to ignore all of this until it goes away, alright? no press interviews after games anymore," she sighed as if this was basic comprehension. (your boyfriend wasn't the smartest but he also didn't need to be treated like an idiot.) "and no posting on any social medias for the time being. do you understand?"

"yeah, yeah. no talking to the grown men after games. and..."he grimaced at the thought of his next condition. " c'mon is posting on my socials that bad? i don't post about us anyways."

"at. all." and the room felt as icy as the pr woman's stare.

"yeah, no, okay i got it. no social media."

after another thirty minutes of this, with them saying basically the same stuff to you (even though you had no real social media presence anyways), you guys finally left.

"no fucking posting? what if i have to talk about a game coming up?" "i'm sure she knows how to do her job, love." you soothed your boyfriend as you got in the car the company arranged to have you two taken up with.

"yeah, well whatever. give me your hand," and who were you to say no to your boyfriend?

he took your hand and placed it on his neck, a place where you could see a few bites and hickeys if you really looked hard enough.

before you could protest he took a picture, posting it on his VERY public account with the caption...

' i love my woman ;) '

before turning off his phone completely.

"let's see them try to get ahold of me now."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ RYUSEI SHIDO, tabito karasu, EITA OTOYA, oliver aiku

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' what picture ? '

how do two chronically offline people realize their relationship is now under scrutiny by the entire world?

the simple answer is...they don't!

you've never been interested in social media the way other girls your age had been. really, you'd rather just watch a video essay on every little topic that interests you than sit and watch six second videos then scroll all day.

to say the least, fast and forever changing social media just wasn't your thing.

and your boyfriend? he hardly even used his phone. unless it was for business or you, the thing was practically shoved away somewhere he couldn't care less about.

he would rather be reading or spending time with you out on a date...which is exactly the predicament the paparazzi put you in earlier this week.

the two of you were photographed having a little picnic and reading date at a small park that was pretty far out of town, assuming no one there knew, or even cared, enough to take a picture, but alas, someone did.

you and he had spent the rest of your week in pure, relaxed bliss. he had a game on saturday, so besides him going to practice and working out, the two of you stayed inside almost all week to prepare for the rather hectic weekend.

to say the game was a nail biter would be the understatement of the century. after two additional times, it was your boyfriend who scored the winning goal.

of course, you cheered the loudest, not noticing plenty of fans eyes on you unlike how many used to just chalk you up as an ecstatic fan.

as the post game interview came for him, you decided to stay closer to the door just incase it ran short. sometimes it was a one and done for him and others the questions went on for at least fifteen minutes, it just depended on his mood.

of course, the first question was about his game winning goal, but the second one threw him and you for a loop.

" what do you have to say about the photos of you and your reported girlfriend that have come out this past week? "

"...huh? what photos?"

eventually, the two of you did see the pictures, and all you could do was laugh because...how had you two not found out about this?

and you also made the picture your phone lock screen, but he didn't have to know that.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ RIN ITOSHI, reo mikage, SAE ITOSHI, chigiri hyoma

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' but the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[ + your faves ! ]

i wrote this in about an hour, and i think it shows but i had to get it out of my brain :))

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[trashytracktales]

Hey! Please do a lando x ex!reader. They break up after a lot of arguments due to being away from each other so much and then they meet a few months later and hook up. Like angst in the beginning then lots of smut.

If it's meant to fall apart | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── I was actually planning to write something similar for so long. Thank you for the request and I hope you like it 🤍

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 summary ──── Surprisingly, months apart haven’t dulled the connection between them. After a night of passion and honesty on both sides, maybe there is a future where they can make all the right decisions, after all.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x ex!reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, lots of angst & back-and-forth, fluff & smut, teasing, praising, explicit language, unprotected sex, mention of alcohol and drinking, swearing, not the healthiest relationship I've ever written tbh (the toxicity is implicit tho), overstimulation, pussy-drunk Lando, Max F. & Ethan aka FEEFA cameo.

𐙚 word count ──── 10.6k (Thank you to everyone who voted on this poll I posted the other day, I didn’t expect to see so many 🥺).

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 27, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── Guys, look. I know it's A LOT 🥴 I kinda let myself run with this one because I haven't posted anything in like a week or so. I still have 2 requests I'm working on, so don't give up on me yet 🤞🏻

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

SHE'S NOT ENTIRELY sure how long they’ve been dancing, but she hasn't finished her drink yet. Time feels like an illusion, blurring the edges of her vision with every new rhythm of the night. For the first time in months, she feels a little lighter, her friends’ energy pulling her out of her own head — and apartment, where she locked herself in after the break-up.

The club is packed tonight, bodies pressed together in a sea of drunken, sweaty chaos. Neon lights bounce off every surface, painting the room in vivid purples, blues, and pinks. It's not usually her style — not anymore — but she figured it won't hurt to let lose for a couple of hours.

It’s only when she steps away from the dance floor, her feet hurting and her head buzzing, that she spots him.

Why tonight, of all nights?

Why here, of all places?

Why him, of all people?

He’s leaning casually against the bar, a glass in hand, chatting with a few familiar faces. Faces that she can't help but miss.

She stopped talking to Max — well, Max stopped talking to her after ending things with Lando, too upset that she toyed with his best friend's heart for ‘no apparent reason’. Their friendship dissolved under pressure, fragile as a cheap plastic cup in the grip of sulfuric acid. But Max wasn't the only one who took it personally. That's why she needed to cut ties with everyone from her past. She needed new friends — her own friends —, she needed a new place and new clothes, and to rebrand herself from scratch. Which she did.

She thought she had made it through, but the past has its twisted ways of coming back when you least expect it.

Now, the sight of him, so vivid and real, makes her chest tighten.

She stops in place, hoping he doesn’t notice her, but then his eyes flick in her direction and, for a brief moment, neither of them blinks, the noise around them fading into a dull murmur.

He straightens slightly, his relaxed posture gone as his brows knit together. There’s something unreadable in his body language — surprise? Excitement? Confusion? Pain? She doesn’t know, but it mirrors the knot twisting in her stomach.

Her friends call out to her, pulling her attention briefly, and when she looks back, he’s still staring. Except now, he’s moving, weaving his way through the crowd toward her.

Oh, hell no.

Her heart starts to race, a mix of adrenaline and something far more complicated than fear, as she rushes to walk away; she's fought for far too long, and now her instinct is to fly as soon as she senses danger.

Unfortunately, she's not quick enough.

“Hey,” says Lando when he gets closer, his voice low but audible over the music.

Hearing him gives her goosebumps, hating the way her body is betraying her. It’s been months since she’s heard his voice, but it still hits her the same way: sharp and unrelenting.

She turns around, forcing a smile, “Hi, Lando,” she manages, her voice steadier than she feels, thinking she should try acting if she makes it out alive from this encounter.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, his tone careful, yet extremely suggestive.

It makes her stomach twist again.

He used that line the very first night they met, his boyish grin lit by the dim, flickering lights of another club, in another city. Potentially another life, she's not sure. She remembers the way he had leaned in, so full of confidence and asked the same exact question with a mischievous glint in his eye.

It feels too deliberate now, too heavy with the weight of their past for her to ignore.

“All set,” she finally says, her voice quieter than she intended, as she raises her half-full glass in her hand. “Thanks.”

For a moment, it feels like they’re strangers meeting for the first time. Except they’re not, and their history is hanging heavily in the air between them.

Lando nods, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, “How about this, let me join you for that drink?”

She takes a look to where her friends are dancing, then she turns back to him, “I'm here with my friends.”

It's a pathetic excuse, she knows that. But she has no time to think of something else. Not when her brain is suddenly all scrambled and can't form a single coherent thought.

Lando frowns, disappointed, but not willing to give up that easy. “Come on, just a quick catch-up and then you can go back to your friends. Mine won't mind,” he shrugs, pointing at the bar, where the others are following their every move like a bunch of curious minions.

She catches Max lifting his glass in her direction, and Ethan, waving frantically.

Against her better judgment, she nods.

“Okay,” she murmurs, “Let's catch up,” she spits the words, sounding a bit too sarcastic. Still, it makes Lando smile.

His shoulders relax slightly, relief softening the tension in his body. He gestures toward a quieter corner of the club, away from the pounding bass and the sea of bodies. His first instinct was to take her hand in his, but since that's over the line, Lando keeps looking back, making sure she follows him. And she does. Like a naive, lost puppy that hasn't learned a single thing in the past five months, apparently.

The crowd surges around them, chaotic and loud, and before she can react, someone stumbles into her, their elbow catching her arm. As a result, she's thrown off balance, her feet slipping on the slick floor. Gasping, she's bracing for the inevitable fall that… never comes.

Lando’s hand shoots out, catching her waist and pulling her upright. His grip is firm, grounding, and suddenly she’s pressed against him, her chest brushing his.

“Careful,” says Lando, his lips close enough to her ear for the voice to cut through the noise.

The spot where he's touching her is burning her skin. She looks up, speaking with a hesitant smile, “Thanks, I'm good.”

The club around them fades away, and all she can feel is the warmth of his hand on her waist and the familiar scent of his cologne — a smell she used to know so well. It is almost intoxicating, and it makes her mouth water. She realizes that's what she was missing the most.

Lando smiles faintly, his hand slipping away as if he’s reluctant to let go. “Always got you.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to that, sensing the double meaning behind his affirmation. So, she nods and lets him guide her the rest of the way.

They find a small, semi-private booth near the exit, far enough from the main dance floor that the music dulls to a manageable volume. He gestures for her to sit first, then slides in across from her.

She fiddles with the edge of her glass, feeling his eyes on her.

“So,” she starts, leaning back against the booth, “You're here.”

Here, as in back home.

“For a week or so, yeah. Got a bit of a break between Brazil and Vegas.”

She nods, emptying the rest of her drink in one go, “How’ve you been?”

Lando shrugs slowly, “Alright. Busy with work and everything,” he trails off, his gaze dropping to her lips for a brief moment. “It’s not the same,” he continues, his smile fading away. “What about you, what have you been up to?”

She needs superhuman powers to stop herself from scoffing in his pretty face. It’s such a simple question, yet it feels loaded, heavy with all the things they haven’t said to each other in almost half a year.

“It's been… peaceful. I moved to another neighborhood. Kept busy, distracted.”

Lando hums, his expression unreadable for some reason. “Yeah, I get that. You look great, by the way,” he states it as a fact, his voice soft but unwavering.

She hesitates, then looks up at him, really looks at him. His face is the same and yet… not really. The boyishness is still there, but there’s a weariness in his eyes that's somehow new. Plus some facial hair she always begged him to try out. It tugs at something inside her, something she’s not sure she’s ready to face. Because it hurts. Because it annoys her. Because, after everything, she's still not over it.

“Cheers,” she replies, hoping he won't catch the blush in her cheeks. “I kind of hoped you would look like shit when I saw you again,” she admits. “You know, I'm talking no front teeth and severely balding. But, oh well. You too.”

Lando's smile widens, making everything infinitely worse for her.

He wears a black shirt that clings to his frame in a way that highlights the muscles in his arms. His black cap is pulled low, worn backwards in that signature way he always did, giving him that effortlessly cool vibe. His eyes are still the same, though. Dark, piercing, the same ones that could make her heart beat faster even after everything that’s happened.

“I thought about you a lot over these months, you know,” Lando finds himself saying, chewing on his lower lip.

She shoots him a surprised look.

As if, she thinks. His Instagram feed would say otherwise.

“You did?” she ends up asking, curiosity getting the best of her.

A hint of vulnerability creeps into his voice, “Of course. I've missed you.”

She laughs dryly, “But it's been good for us, right? We just established we both look great, no constant fighting, no slamming doors, no smashed phones…” she says, looking at him intently.

He can't sustain that for long, so he looks down at his shoes, slightly ashamed, remembering how bad it used to get when the distance between them felt too much to handle. He remembers the frustration, and the helplessness he felt when he couldn’t reach her, because he couldn’t make things right. He did smash his phone once, in a fit of anger, because he couldn’t get ahold of her for hours — not his proudest moment, that's for sure.

Lando swallows hard, “Yeah, it has been nice to have some distance. I guess it makes the heart grow fonder, right?”

“Hmm,” she hums, letting her eyes travel across the room, scanning random faces and wondering how life would be if she were someone else, “I don't know about that.”

She knows, in fact. But the words pause in her throat, too tangled up in memories. When he finally looks up, she's holding his gaze for just a beat longer than she should, and she wonders if he can feel it too — that familiar pull, like gravity, drawing them back together once again.

“I know—” Lando begins, not sure from which angle to approach. “I know it was the right choice at the time, but I can't help but wonder what things could have been if I'd fought harder for you.”

“Come on, Lando,” she laughs, unamused, giving her head a shake, “We would've ended up in another vicious circle, no matter what. It's always like that with us, isn't it?”

A part of him knows she's right. Still, “We'll never know.”

“Well, maybe it's better that way,” she manages, her voice lacking conviction.

“Or maybe it’s not,” he contradicts her, his words carrying a weight that presses on both of them. “You never think about us?”

Another sharp, dry laugh — it's either this, or she'll start crying. “I am actively trying not to,” she admits, her tone tinged with exasperation. “What’s the point, Lan? Thinking about what could’ve been won’t change what happened. You were always gone, and I couldn't spend my life following you around like a headless chicken. We had a good time, but it was never going to last,” she says the last part mostly as a reminder for herself. “Not in those circumstances.”

His jaw tightens. “You think it was easy for me? That it didn’t tear me up knowing I couldn’t be there for you the way you wanted me to?”

“I didn't say that,” her eyes snap to his, “We simply weren't working. We were too good at breaking each other.”

Lando leans back in his chair, frustration visible on his face. He hates that she's right, but it doesn’t stop the ache in his chest.

His jaw clenches, “I just… I don’t want to believe that’s all we were. Breaking each other.”

Her expression softens a little at his words, “Not all. But enough to make us miserable.”

For a while, the air between them feels heavier, the noise fading into the background. He wants to say something, anything, to counter her point, but all he can do is look at her and ask himself if they were, indeed, playing a losing game back then.

“Did you meet someone?” his question flies out of nowhere.

Lando looks at her with anticipation, sensing the hesitation.

“I did,” she replies, nodding slowly.

“And?”

She meets his eyes for a split second before looking away again, fixing her gaze somewhere on the table. “And we're happily married with twins on the way. What do you think? I just. Couldn’t.”

Lando's stomach drops, trying his best to remain calm, his hands clenching into fists. “You couldn’t what? Be with them?”

She shakes her head, her movements slow and deliberate, as if choosing her words carefully. “It was too soon.”

Her answer only leaves him with more questions. “So, what does that mean?”

“I don’t know what it means,” she rushes to say, her tone tinged with irritation. It’s clear she’s as unsure as he is, but that only makes it harder for Lando to process her reaction.

He runs a hand over his face, his exasperation bubbling to the surface. “I’m just trying to understand,” he says, his voice quieter but no less intense. “Because I've also tried.”

She looks directly at him now, her eyes narrowing slightly. “And?” she challenges in the same manner, her tone carrying just a hint of defiance.

“They weren't you,” says Lando, the truth of his statement hanging between them like a heavy anchor.

They remain silent after that.

She wants to ask him why — why he still cares, and why it hurts so much to be in the same space again after all they’ve been through. Nothing comes out, though; she already has the answer to that. They didn't break up because they stopped loving each other. They had both been too caught up in their own worlds to find any kind of balance. That broke them up.

He wants her to speak. He needs to hear her speak. To react. But when she says nothing in return, there is a brief second when he feels like giving up for good; he can't do anything if she's already made a decision. He knows how stubborn she is.

Lando nods to himself while getting up and start walking toward the exit, his thoughts all over the place.

The night air greets them with a quiet, cooling embrace as they step out of the club. Of course she follows, and she hates herself for that. But she can't help it — it's instinct. Like a magnetic force he's always had over her.

On the other hand, it's how they always communicated, through gestures and actions rather than words.

The soft click of her heels against the pavement gives Lando hope. He slows down so she can catch up, and then they walk side by side, without talking. The background noise of the city keeps them company, and by the time she decides to break the silence, he stops abruptly.

His voice sounds so small now, like a child asking his parents why can't he eat his chocolate bar before dinner.

“I know it feels so silly looking back,” says Lando, as though afraid to shatter the superficial peace between them. “We did so many things wrong, but I think we also did a lot of things right.”

She hesitates, her eyes dropping to the ground where a patch of light from a distant street light catches the edge of her shoe. Her arms fold tightly across her chest, while trying to look anywhere but at him.

“Yeah, breaking up was one of the right things,” she says thoughtfully, though her voice has a trace of bitterness behind it. “Before that, we tried so hard to make it work that we ended up burning each other alive.”

It's crazy how simple words can cause physical pain so quickly.

“Yet we're still here,” he reminds her. “Knowing what we know now, maybe we wouldn’t burn so fast this time. And isn’t it worth it, even if it only lasts for a little while? We were so happy at the start.”

That’s what he clings to. The laughter, the stolen moments, the way they fit together so effortlessly — she can’t argue with that. Their beginning was a beautiful dream, but it’s the nightmare that followed that keeps her guarded now, even though all she wants is to crack his ribcage open and slip inside him so they will never be apart again.

Her voice shakes as she tries her best to make him see her side, the memories spilling out like water breaking through a dam. “I had to put myself back together, Lando. Piece by piece. And I was all alone.” She forces herself to meet his gaze, finally, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Turns out, our friends were actually your friends, and I had to go through the worst breakup of my life with no one by my side. I had to move, I had to build an entire life from pretty much nothing. And I had to do everything alone, because I didn’t just lose you. I lost everything the moment I made you the center of my universe.”

Her words knock the air out of his lungs, guilt clawing at his insides. “Look, I know I should have been there,” says Lando, his voice barely steady. “Fuck me. I wasn’t supposed to let you go in the first place, alright? I should’ve been a better boyfriend, and I should’ve fought harder to make it work, using what we had then. But you did fuck with my head, and I thought being away would help.”

The first tear spills down her cheek, and she wipes it away hastily, as if she could erase the vulnerability altogether.

“It did help,” she agrees. “I know I can live without it now.”

Lando freezes for a split second, then stepping dangerously closer to her. “So, you’ll be fine if we stay broken up?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper.

She nods, but it’s shaky. And when she takes a step back, trying to put distance between them, Lando decides he gave her enough space. Fuck that. He's not thinking anymore, not with his brain, at least. He closes the distance again, his hands finding her waist and pulling her close in one swift motion.

It’s impulsive, desperate even. But he doesn’t care. The moment he feels her presence in his personal space, the fire he’s tried to smother for months, roars back to life, more powerful than ever. And just like that, everything it's right again. The way her body fits against his, the familiarity of it all, makes his heart race in his chest.

“Stop being so fucking stubborn, baby,” he murmurs into her hair, his voice cracking under the weight of his own desperation. “Why can’t we at least try, hm? You told me it was too soon for someone else. Maybe it’s because it’s supposed to be me.”

Her breath catches at the sudden closeness, at the rawness of his voice. She's unsure of what to do with her hands, until they hover awkwardly by his shoulders.

“You're not fair,” she whispers, her voice slightly trembling. “You can’t just accidentally waltz back into my life and say things like that.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about being fair,” he says, his voice firm. “I just want us back. Simple as that.”

Her tears blur the edges of Lando's face when she tries to push him away, but his grip won't let her. Not this time.

“It's not that simple, and you know it,” she says. “We’ll only end up hurting each other again.”

“Then we hurt, so what?” he counters, his voice soft but sure. “At least we’ll know we tried until there wasn't anything worth fighting for. I'm not done with you, baby. Are you?”

Her hands finally move, trembling as they brush against his cheeks. They're not as soft as they use to be, his little facial hair scratching slightly at the pads of her fingers. The connection sends a jolt through them both as her touch lingers, trailing up to his hair. She pulls at his cap with both hands, placing it on her own head with a weak smile.

“It’s longer than you used to wear it,” she notices, her tears catching the street lights.

Lando’s heart clenches, managing to shoot a small smile in return, “I thought maybe I’d try growing it out. Do you like it?”

“I love it,” she admits as she tries to messily style his hair with her fingers. “It suits you.”

For a little while, they’re trapped in their own bubble. Her touch feels like home, and all Lando can think of is that he can't lose it again.

“I’m not asking you to decide now,” he finally says, his thumbs tracing soft circles on her waist. “I just need to know I’m not the only one still holding on.”

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, they're stumbling into her apartment. She knows it's reckless, and she's basically throwing away five months of progress, but it wasn't going to last, anyway.

Addictions are very hard to keep under control, especially when they have curly, dark hair and give you bed eyes.

“This way,” she says, her lips swollen from kissing all the way to her door.

Lando doesn’t have time to adjust, his head already spinning with hundreds of scenarios that fly tirelessly through his mind. However, the only thing that captivates him at the moment is her, and the way her fingers curl into the waistband of his jeans. She tugs him closer, her lips crashing onto his once again, their breaths blending in a frantic exchange of need and uncertainty.

He watches her fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, her movements clumsy but determined. His heart reaches his throat, swallowing hard, as his hands move from her waist to his belt, blindly unbuckling it before tossing it carelessly aside. The sound of leather hitting the floor barely registers over the erratic, overlapping rhythm of them kissing.

Then, he sees it. The spark in her eyes she used to have when she looked at him — it catches him off guard, giving him hope. He follows her as she moves slowly, her back toward the bed, her movements precise, like a cat's. She lies down, propping herself up on her elbows, while he takes cautious steps closer, his shirt hanging open to reveal his chest and toned abs.

But just as he leans forward, her high heel presses lightly against his chest, stopping him.

Lando freezes, his hands bracing on either side of her foot, tracing his palm up and down her leg, as his eyes dart up to meet hers.

“You can look,” she says, catching a glimpse of confusion in his eyes. “But for now, no touching.”

He frowns, clenching his jaw at her request. It would make sense for her to bring him to her place only to torture him, but she can't be that heartless. Right? The sight of her, stretched out on the bed with her foot holding him at bay, is almost too much to handle already.

“You're not fair,” he mutters under his breath, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I don't give a flying fuck about being fair,” she repeats his words from earlier, her foot staying firm against his chest.

The power is in her hands, and she's planning on using them properly tonight.

“No touching,” she repeats, determined.

Lando's hands fall at his sides.

Slowly, she slides her foot down, letting it drag across his chest, making a quick stop on his lower abdomen before settling on the bed. Her gaze locks onto his, a daring glint in her eyes as she spreads her legs, revealing the black lace panties. The dress she's wearing lifts up her thighs of its own accord, leaving Lando chocking on air for a brief moment. His lips part as she trails her fingers down her own body, teasing herself the way she’s done countless nights before.

Nights when he wasn’t there.

Nights when she was alone, chasing a high only his touch could give her.

“Wanna see how I got through five months without you?” she asks, her hands traveling way down, hooking her fingers to pull at the soft material.

His breath hitches, the sight of her undressing before him so painfully slowly making his chest ache with longing and guilt.

“I thought of you,” she continues, letting a small whimper out when the soft lace peels off with a little resistance from her already soaked pussy. “Your hands, your mouth… the way you sound when you're turned on,” she discards the panties at the foot of the bed, her breath catching in her throat as she glances at him through her lashes. “Such a delicious combination between your sleepy voice and that low octave you hit when you're drunk.”

Lando’s mouth goes dry, his hands twitching at his sides, itching to lean over and collect the material off the floor to stuff it into his pocket as a souvenir. He’s never felt so powerless and yet so utterly consumed by someone before.

“Will you let me?” she asks, her lips curving into a smile that’s equally wicked and vulnerable, “Show you?”

Her name leaves Lando’s lips in a protest while he takes an instinctive step forward, but she stops him with her foot once again. It’s a punishment, and he knows it. She’s showing him exactly what he missed, and exactly how she wanted him for so long.

Lando's breath is shallow, his chest rising and falling as he watches her. Helpless. His every nerve is tuned to her, eyes following how her fingers slide so easily between her folds, spreading the wetness as she teases her hole. Of course she’s taking her time with it, only to make sure he registers every tiny detail, just in case he forgot.

Her head tilts to the side with a quiet gasp when she pushes slowly inside. The sound of her wet entrance is enough to make his knees weak, still, his body turns to stone.

On the other hand, his heart is a mess of pride and frustration — pride that she still feels comfortable to be this vulnerable and open in front of him, frustration that he has to see her like this, untouchable. That's why he's not even blinking, too afraid he'll miss a thing.

She starts to gently rock her hips against the bed, fucking her fingers in and out, her body trembling as her whimpers fill the room. It's too much for Lando, but luckily, she didn't say anything about moving. His legs finally give out, and he falls to his knees, the sound of his breath ragged and uneven as he gets closer to her.

Yes, she's in charge — for now, at least — but he can't stop his words slipping out. Quiet, yet demanding.

“Slower,” he says, fixing his eyes on the way her fingers slide over her clit. “Don't rush it, please. I want to see all of you.”

Her gaze meets his, and for a moment, neither of them says anything else. She sees the vulnerability etched into his features, the way his body betrays him, shaking with restraint, completely at her mercy.

He looks like a man unmoored, defeated. So beautiful.

“Lando…” she breaths heavily, her back arching against her own hand, that flattered slightly at his words, a blush creeping up her neck and cheeks.

She hates how much he still affects her, obeying him without questioning his ways. Like no time has passed whatsoever.

When they make eye contact again, it's like they silently agree to go with it; whatever tonight will bring.

“That's is,” says Lando with satisfaction as she resumes her movements. “You gorgeous little thing. So beautiful when you listen, yeah?”

She nods, feeling him leaning forward just slightly, close enough that she can feel his warmth on her skin, without him touching her in any way. The air feels electric, her breath stuttering as she keeps fucking up her fingers under Lando's careful guidance. He watches every motion, his jaw tightening, ignoring the ache in his boxers the moment she finds her sweet spot, crying at how good it feels. She tries to muffle the moan, but Lando catches the hesitation, his eyes narrowing in her direction.

“No, let me hear you. Please, let me hear you,” he implores, exhaling sharply. “God, you're perfect. I could watch you forever.”

Lando can't help but notice how receptive she becomes at his words, her body tightening at the way he's praising her. As a result, she presses her fingers harder onto her clit, feeling the pressure building inside.

“Mhm, Lan…”

“I'm with you, baby. Keep going,” he encourages her, his gaze fixating on the slickness dripping between her legs. “Fucking hell. You're already so close, aren't you?”

It's like every word gets caught in her throat, and the only way she can reply to him is with a pathetic, desperate whimper.

In hindsight, she's never came from her fingers so quickly before, but the wave that’s hitting her from every direction right now is too intense to process right away.

It happens too fast, and the next thing she's aware of is Lando's voice, bringing her back.

“Please,” she hears him beg, managing to give him a slight nod of her head in return.

In that moment, the lights go out. Even so, Lando wants to be patient, as his index finger lightly brushes against her warmth. She exhales, giving up control, her gaze locked on him as if he is the only one that ever knew her. Meticulous, Lando traces his long, rough finger through her wetness, causing a shock to run through her whole body as it moves up and down her clit.

She thought she already crossed her limit, but then he leans down to press his mouth on her — deliberately, unapologetically, thirsty.

Lando lets out a deep, guttural groan that reverberates against her, causing her hips to twitch slightly. His tongue is wet and warm on her pulsating clit, leaving her breathless while he tastes her like it's the last time.

“My sweet, sweet baby,” he whispers, his voice intimate and personal, the words enveloping her in layers and layers of honey.

Feeling his warm breath on her center causes a surge of tension within her, making her walls tighten as his tongue explores within. He can't help but smile just as she leans into him, her body responding naturally, and he grips her thighs, closing the remaining gap between them. At that, she instantly buries her fingers in his curls, her hips mimicking his head movements.

“Oh, fuck,” she exhales abruptly.

The rest is pure bliss — his tongue licking in deep strokes, his muffled moans between her thighs, and the way he can’t seem to let go of her, gripping her tightly because he’s been deprived of her taste for so long.

Just for a brief second, Lando raises his head and, as his gaze remains fixed on her eyes, his mouth sucks gently at her clit. She's never seen him so desperate before, the sight of him owning her like that covering her entire body in chills.

Gradually, his kisses become way too powerful, which forces her to quickly grab his messy curls and pull him closer, unable to control herself anymore.

Without any warning, she screams his name as her climax hits her like a tidal wave for the second time in a row.

His growling makes her thighs quiver in his grasp, the vibrations intensifying her pleasure as her body convulses with each new sensation, while Lando’s tongue continues licking her during every heartbeat and shiver.

Next time she looks at him, his lips shine, his cheeks are red, and his gaze so intense that it causes her heart to skip a beat, creating a connection that seems more profound than any physical sensation she's just experienced.

He didn’t try to give her the best she’s ever had, but attempt to remind her how well he knows her body — to show her she still belongs to him.

“You’re so pretty,” says Lando, keeping his eyes on her, while he presses one finger back inside her cunt to test how thight she is after her second orgasm.

“Lando,” she spits his name at the unexpected touch, still too sensitive, “What… are you doing?” she gasps softly, a mixture between a sigh and a moan, when Lando's finger pulls out and glides across her wet, delicate clit once again.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Lando murmurs against her thigh, his voice low and reverent.

He grins in her direction, while his thumb circles her clit with precise intention, like a wheel gripping the perfect racing line. Sure of himself, Lando continues his movements, realizing how overstimulated she is, as he gets up to hover above her. Her hips buck instinctively into his hand, a jolt of reaction she can’t control.

Seeing Lando on top makes her react on instinct, wrapping one arm around his neck, while the other hand travels down his chest. The heat pooling in her stomach rises fast, an apex she didn’t expect to reach so soon. It’s intoxicating, her body spiraling as her mind blanks out the world beyond him.

“Lan—” she gasps, her back arching as if trying to escape, though every fiber of her betrays that she wants more.

“Come on, baby,” he says, increasing the pace. “You can give me one more. You're doing so well, I know you can,” his voice is a blend of dominance and desire, while his fingers press into her, knowing exactly where to go and how to bend, “Like that, see? So easy for me to read you. I could fuck my fingers into your pretty hole all night long and you'd still come for me every single time, wouldn't you, baby?”

Shaking, she clings to his neck, crying out his name in spasms. He loops his free arm around her, gently kissing her cheek — a gesture so tender and innocent that makes her heart grow ten times in size.

She grips his shoulder with one hand, her eyes closing in pleasure. “I can’t—” she chokes, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths.

In an attempt to get her power back, she tries to push at his wrist, but his arm steadies her, determined.

“Of course you can, love,” says Lando, his voice a gentle command, the firmness in his tone like a driver refusing to lift his foot off the pedal, curious to see how far he can take it.

Her hand clenches around his arm as his thumb presses against her clit with ruthless precision. She reacts on instinct, muscles coiling tight as she bucks against his hand, not sure what controls her body anymore, since her brain got disconnected long ago. The slik rhythm of Lando's fingers becomes too much, and she knows she's close when he starts curling them inside at the perfect angle.

“La— Fuck, baby, that feels so good,” her voice is a high-pitched cry now, laced with desperation. “I’m going—”

“I know, baby. So pretty. Look at you, making such a mess for me,” he urges, leaning in to kiss her neck.

Her body tightens as pleasure explodes within her, blinding and all-consumming — a full-throttle sensation, unrelenting in its intensity. She sobs his name as liquid warmth spills from her pussy, coating Lando’s fingers. He doesn’t stop there, though, his hand continuing its pace, coaxing every last wave of her climax as his arm holds her securely against him.

“God, I've missed you.”

When her breathing slows down, he falls down on top of her, burying his head in the crook of her neck. Her legs shake slightly, and her fingers curl weakly into his bare chest as he cradles her close.

Lando presses a tender kiss against her temple, his voice filling the quiet. “It wasn’t acciedntal,” he confesses.

She blinks rapidly, tilting her head to look at him, confused, “What?”

“Earlier,” Lando clarifies, “You said I was accidentally waltzing back into your life — it wasn’t accidental,” he repeats.

“What do you mean?”

Lando places a few more kisses on the heated skin of her neck, sucking in a couple of bruises, the gesture meant to buy himself more time for the storm raging in his head to stop.

“Lando,” she pulls him out of it.

“Been trying to figure out how to do this for a while. I just… couldn’t stay away from you anymore,” he admits, looking up at her, his eyes pleading. “I had Max playing detective while I was away.”

She pushes him off her to sit up on the bed, pulling at the edges of her dress. “Seriously, what?” her tone is not defensive — at least not yet — but there’s a sharpness to it that cuts into him.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he rushes to explain, “Look, I didn’t stalk you or anything. Nor Max,” he continues, getting up to stand next to her. “I didn’t even know where you lived until you brought me here. I swear.”

She wraps her arms around her own body, needing something to ground herself, “What did you do, Lando?” the girl asks, her voice quieter now.

He swallows, “I just asked him to check in on you. To see if you were okay.”

“And how did he do that?”

“He saw you tagged in a pic on this girl's account, and then did some research on the people you were with, paid some dudes to find out if their records were clean—” he starts chuckling when her fist hits his shoulder, playfully, but still with intent.

“Don’t be a dick,” she warns, her smile giving away the fact that she’s still amused by his immature sense of humor.

“I just… didn’t want to simply appear out of nowhere if you were happy. If you’d moved on,” Lando continues, his tone more serious now. “But when he told me you seemed like you hadn’t, I couldn’t keep pretending like I was fine. I'm really not.”

His honesty was always a breath of fresh air, but now it's suffocating. Hearing him admitting he's not okay, implying that she's the reason why, is simply heartbreaking.

Her arms drop slowly to her sides, her fingers gripping the edge of the bed, “Why now, Lando? And why not text or call?”

He scoffs, “Can you look me in the eye and tell me honestly that you would have picked up if I called? Especially given how we left things?”

She cups Lando’s chin in the palm of her hand, forcing him to look at her, “I'll always pick up if it's you.”

The admission makes his chest tighten.

Lando shakes his head, “I promise I’ve tried,” he says, “God, I’ve fucking tried. I threw myself into everything, and nothing worked. Racing, training, sim sessions, going out with the guys — no matter what I did, I was constantly thinking of you. Every night out felt wrong because I wasn’t coming home to you. And I know home is such a vague word for me, because I’m mostly away, but you made every single place feel like home, and that's why it didn't matter where I was at the time. I just needed… need you in ways I can't nor want to explain.”

His confession makes her head spin. The breakup had been difficult for her, but she hadn’t considered how Lando had handled the past five months. All along, she had assumed he wouldn’t miss her — that his life, always on the road and consumed by his own pursuits, was too busy to notice the absence of one small, insignificant detail: her.

She's now realizing how wrong she had been to think that way.

“So…?” she finally asks. “Do you think a few orgasms later can mend what was broken five months ago?”

“What? No, of course not,” he says firmly, leaning forward, his elbows digging into his thighs. “I swear, all I wanted to do tonight was talking to you. I didn’t plan on getting to this point, but I can’t say I’m mad about it,” says Lando, taking her hand in his, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “You still want me,” she shoots Lando a rapid look, studying his face, “Just like I want you. I see it, I feel it. Baby, I know it.”

Her heart pounds in her chest, the sincerity in his voice cutting through her defenses like a hot knife through butter. She wants to be angry, to accuse him of being selfish, but the truth is, she isn’t. Maybe it’s foolish to believe him, but one thing Lando never did was lie to her. He did worse, yes, but he never lied.

“Lando...” she starts, but her voice trails off, wishing her head would stop spinning so she could think.

“I know I hurt you,” he continues, his voice softer now, “You hurt me. We hurt each other. But we're too good together not to find a way to make it work.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, her mind racing with memories of their past — the good, especially the bad, and everything else in between. Her fingers toy with the fabric of her dress, her eyes flickering between his face and the floor. The room is heavy with silence and, just for a moment, she lets herself believe that maybe, just maybe, they could find each other again.

Otherwise, if it's meant to fall apart, then let it happen with them gasping for air, tangled together, connected in every way imaginable.

THE MORNING SUN filters shyly through the curtains, soft and golden, spilling across the bed where Lando stirs awake. He’s all alone, the sheets around him rumpled from where she had slept. He blinks up at the ceiling, a little disoriented. Then, he hears the faint sound of running water and realizes she’s in the shower. It makes him feel like everything went back to normal, but he can't be sure of what's going to happen next. He can only speculate and hope, but nothing more than that.

The quiet is interrupted by the persistent buzz of his phone on the nightstand. He reaches for it, still groggy from sleep, scrolling through a handful of texts from last night — banter in the group chat, some Instagram notifications, a few missed calls; nothing too important to catch his eye. He places the phone back on the smooth surface carelessly, and his hand knocks over something solid in the process.

Frowning, he sits up to put it back in its place, and that’s when he sees it — a framed picture of them, taken during a rare quiet weekend in Monaco over a year ago, right at the beginning of their relationship. She looked so happy back then, caught mid-laugh as Lando was gazing at her with an expression so tender that it makes his chest ache now. The weight of the memory hits him harder than he expects, pulling him fully awake.

The sound of the bathroom door opening makes him turn, and he puts the frame back quickly. However, it's enough for her to catch his sudden movement, her eyes flicking to the photo and back to him.

Her cheeks flush a deep pink. “I meant to put that away,” she rushes to say, pulling the towel tighter around her body like it might shield her from the embarrassment.

“Carlos took this one,” his voice is soft, as his eyes shift back to the frame. He picks it up again, turning it in his hands. “You asked me why didn't I call, but… why didn't you call?”

She laughs dryly, crossing the space to take the frame from his hand and placing it face down on the nightstand. She sits down next to him, shrugging.

“And tell you what, Lando? That I couldn’t stop thinking about you even though you broke my heart?” she asks, shaking her head, the embarrassment turning into something closer to frustration. “It’s just a stupid picture, anyway. We barely knew each other when it was taken.”

“It’s not stupid,” he contradicts her vehemently. His hand reaches out tentatively, brushing against her soft forearm. “It's nice to know I wasn’t completely crazy for hoping you felt the same.”

Her lips part like she wants to say something, but no words come out. The towel slips slightly, and she clutches it tighter, her defenses crumbling under the weight of his hungry eyes.

“Lando…”

“Leave it there, yeah?” he says, pointing at the picture. “Facing your side of the bed, preferably.”

Seeing her suddenly deep in thought, Lando grabs her wrist and gently pulls her onto his lap, his thumb lightly brushing against her silky skin.

She looks at him, her emotions warring on her face. “If it makes me look less pathetic, it was face down most of the time.”

Lando laughs, his hands finding her waist, then her hips, steadying her on his lap, “I love you,” he says it casually, but it still freezing the blood in her veins.

Her fingers fly towards his mouth to cover his lips, “Don't,” she warns.

“You know I do. I was serious last night. You don't have to decide anything right now, but I'm not going anywhere. It sucks we needed to hurt for a while, we're both at fault, but I never stopped loving you,” he repeats.

“You're so unfair.”

“Don't care, say it back,” he teases, digging his fingers into her skin to tickle her sides.

She starts giggling, “Don't you dare.”

His grin widens, “Or what?” he asks playfully as her hands fly to his, trying to fend him off.

“Lando, I'm serious. Stop it,” her laughter blends with his while he leans in closer, his lips brushing her ear.

“I need to hear it, baby. Please. Just say it back.”

“It back,” she chuckles, feeling his fingers tickling her so mercilessly that tears form in her eyes. Their laughter bubbles over, loud and uninhibited, until she collapses against him. “Okay, fine. Fine,” her breathy voice stops him in place, catching his attention. “I love you, Lando.”

A simple confession; he asked for it. But none of them expected it to hang that heavily between them. It's not a lie — not in the slightest — and Lando knows it.

“Enough to give us a second chance?” he asks.

Her breath catches at the sudden shift in his tone, and before she can reply, his thumb traces her cheek gently.

“I'm so scared,” she admits, leaning into his touch.

Lando sighs, understanding too well where she's coming from, “I know, baby. But I'm even more afraid of losing us again. Losing this…”

His hand slides down her chest, tracing the curve of her breasts. With a gentle movement, he tugs at the corner of her towel, letting it drip smoothly down her body. Patiently, he runs his hands down her waist, moving back up to her chest as they leave goosebumps in their wake. Hungry, his hands rest on her breasts, squeezing them lightly until he feels her nipples in his palms, and she drops her head on his shoulder, whimpering softly.

Memories of last night make her body shudder, feeling the heat between her legs intensifying. Following his lead, her fingers start tugging at the waistband of his boxers, until they slip low on his hips.

Lando moves one hand around her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. He groans against her mouth, his breath hot and ragged, before breaking their connection long enough to kick the boxers aside.

Skin on skin, their bodies align like two puzzle pieces.

She hovers over him, his hands on either side of her, “I wanna take care of you,” he speaks softly, closing his eyes when her forehead rests against his. “Please, let me take care of you.”

There’s a vulnerability in his tone that twists something deep inside her. She's just learned how to be independent again. She can't throw all of it away. She can't let herself slip.

She can't.

“Okay,” she whispers, her voice steady despite the storm raging within her.

Her answer is all that Lando needs to hear. His lips crash back onto hers as he swaps their positions, lowering her onto the bed, his body pressing against hers, warm and solid. And so very real. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word feels like a promise, a vow that he won’t let her slip through his fingers again.

And then, Lando takes control — not the type of dominance he's used to when he steers his car. It's more like devotion; his hands map her body all over again, like a driver learning every twist and turn of a new circuit, his lips following the trail his fingers blaze.

She arches into his touch, responding to him in ways she thought she’d forgotten.

But the body remembers.

And the remembering is, oh, so good.

Last night was just the warm-up, she reckons — an act meant to remind both of them how well they fit together. Lando was gentle, kind, and patient. But now, she sees the shift in him.

His eyes are darker, filled with lust, his touch greedier. She can't help but smile when she realizes that the Lando she knows all too well — the one who’s needy, insatiable, and unrelenting in his desire for her — is still there, and so ready to show off.

Her skin tingles in anticipation as she watches him, knowing exactly what he wants. And for once, she wants it just as much. Maybe even more, considering how her body is acting independently from her brain.

She wants him to give her everything, to burn through her until she’s left gasping and wet and ruined, and she’s ready to meet his hunger with her own.

But before that, “We're not done talking,” she tells him, breathing heavily against his mouth.

“Yeah, we'll talk. Stay with me and we'll talk all you want, baby.”

She wants to protest, but her air gets knocked out of her lungs and her fingernails sink into his shoulders when Lando nudges the head of his cock up and down her slit to collect the wetness. With a gentle kiss on her jaw, she closes her eyes, tracing her fingers down his arms as he pushes inside.

They both exhale, relieved that they're back where they belong.

Talking can wait.

Lando's hands grip her waist just as he pulls out, only to push back in, all the way to the hilt in one slow, but hard thrust. The feeling is almost too much for her, which is ridiculous since he just started moving. But she feels so full, and the sounds he lets out only make her open up for him even more.

“Wait, wait,” she can barely recognize her own voice, stopping Lando when their hips touch together.

She can't explain it, but she needs it.

“What's wrong?”

She looks down between their bodies, confusing Lando even more. “I…,” she begins, but she's not sure how she's supposed to voice her need.

“It's okay, you can tell me,” he assures her, bringing his hand to cup her face in his palm, tracing his thumb over her cheek.

“I—need a second to feel you,” she explains, pushing his hand away only to trace her palms over her face.

Lando chuckles, “Baby, don't hide from me. You're driving me fucking mad when you're blushing.”

“I'm not blushing,” she contradicts him, raising her hips against his, her walls hugging him tighter with every move.

“No?” whispers Lando roughly as if he lost his voice. “God, you're perfect. So good, so fucking sweet and perfect around me, baby.”

Her legs tighten around his waist, keeping him inside, while one hand moves to his lower back to push him against her even more. There is no physical space left between them, but she still wants more. It only makes Lando's cock throb inside her pussy, giving her a few more seconds to adjust to his length before he pulls all the way out and slides back, searching for the perfect pace.

“Fuck, Lando,” she whines, burying her fingers into his hair, tugging at the roots.

“Yes, I know,” agrees Lando, his eyes flicking over her face. His insides tighten at the sight of her parting her lips in pleasure, her breathing hot and irregular. “You're so beautiful from this angle.”

“Shut up,” she cuts him off, which makes Lando chuckle again.

“Why would I?” he asks, leaning closer to her ear, while thrusting a couple more times before pausing. “You look like a fucking goddess taking my cock so well.”

She squeezes her eyes shut at the sound of his voice, low and raspy, rocking her hips to find that sweet friction against her walls again.

“Keep,” she whines, “Keep going, then. Let me have it.”

Lando presses his lips on hers at the same time he resumes his movements, his hands roaming all over her body.

“You can have my cock, baby,” he groans into her hair. “All yours.”

She nods, wrapping her fingers around his biceps, “Yeah?”

“Promise you,” says Lando.

After that, he picks up pace, both falling into an agonizing rhythm. All this time, she had thought that familiarity might dull the edge of being with Lando, that knowing his moves would make it predictable and boring, maybe even ordinary.

Somehow, it’s the exact opposite.

It’s because she knows him, and he knows her so well, that every touch feels ecstatic, every kiss charged with meaning. He doesn’t need to guess what she likes; he already knows how to unravel her, how to leave her trembling and breathless. And she knows exactly what will make his breath hitch, how to draw out that low, desperate groan that ignites her own fire.

In a way, every time feels like the first, but it's always much better, because they know how to make each other fall apart like no one else can.

“Please,” she gasps, breathing wetly in his shoulder. “Harder.”

One thing about Lando, he's always been good at listening. Without thinking twice, he tightens his grip on her hips, fucking his cock inside her harder and faster than before. In an instant, her ears are blessed with the way his moans sound.

“God, I've missed fucking my pretty girl like this,” says Lando, his hands moving on her thighs to spread her more so he can slide in faster. “It's never like this, baby, fuck.”

Being with Lando is chaos, the kind of beautiful, consuming chaos that leaves everything around them in shambles. They are loud and messy, and everything is sweaty and wet and sticky. He kisses her like he’s starving, touches her like he’s desperate to memorize every inch of her skin, and she matches his fervor, meeting him with the same wild energy that pulls them under. Together.

“Lando,” she spits his name out of her mouth in short spasms. “Lando, Lan… Lando.”

It's almost like a cry for help, but she doesn't need saving. Not when he's fucking her so good, slamming against her over and over again, until the outside world fades away and all she remembers is his name.

“Lando,” she whimpers again.

“Keep me in, love. Like that,” she can barely hear him over the sound of skin slapping on skin. “Fuck. You're taking me so well, I won't stop fucking you, baby. I won't—”

She sucks in a breath of air, her body buzzing with pleasure. Wrapping her arms around his torso, she can feel how hot and sweaty his chest is. She moves with him for a couple more thrusts before she lets go, the sound of Lando fucking in and out of her while she comes so obscene that it makes her eyes roll.

“I'll never get tired of seeing you coming like that,” says Lando, pinning her to the bed, his cock feeling so fucking good inside of her that it makes him see stars. “So fucking hot, baby.”

Her nails scratch the skin of his back as her pussy clenches around his length, forcing another hiss out of Lando's mouth.

“Don't stop,” she manages to say, even though she feels her throat raw.

“Ah, look at you, now. Being so good for me,” says Lando with a smirk, tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Letting me have my way with you when you're sore and spent. And so wet, baby, you're dripping all around my cock. Fucking hell.”

Lando's jaw clenches, a visible battle playing out in his face as his breath hitches. She feels him moving deeper, hitting the sweet spot inside her, sending ripples of pleasure through her body with every thrust.

“Yes—fuck. Don't stop,” she repeats.

His eyes widen as he tries to hold on for as long as he can, but it's hard when he flashes his eyes in her direction and catches her already looking. It doesn't take long for him to realize there's a replica to her first orgasm. He nods, without saying anything else, bringing his hand up to her neck. She places hers on top of his, not to push it away, but to let it rest there as a sign that it's fine to claim her if that's what Lando needs.

And that's enough for him to lose it.

“Baby,” he breaths out, fucking her slopply, any sense of order dissolving under the weight of their eye contact.

She arches into him, her fingers trembling as they rise to cup his face.

“Keep your eyes on me,” she demands, her voice a desperate need.

She pictured that face thousands of times in the past months, but nothing compares to this. Lando groans at the command, his hooded gaze staying on hers. The intensity of his expression nearly undoes her again — his pupils blown wide, lips parted as he lets out s string of cuss words.

“That's it, pretty boy,” she whispers, her thumb brushing over his cheek as he moves inside her, his pace faltering for just a moment before he snaps back into thay sloppy rhythm, chasing his release. “Want to see you when you let go.”

She barely finishes her sentence when his orgasm crashes over him like a tsunami; no one would be able to even tell where she begins and where he ends.

Lando looks so beautiful and wrecked, and she drinks in every second of his surrender.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

When his features soften, she sees how vulnerable he is, and it leaves her breathless.

Satisfied and content, her fingers still trace his face, wanting to remember the exact way he looks in this moment, when he is completely hers.

Unable to support his weight, Lando collapses on top of her, feeling his body as light as a feather, which is so far from the truth. But she doesn't mind; she loves the feeling, actually. She loves the heaviness, and the way he keeps his cock tucked deep inside her, wet and softening slowly, not allowing his cum to leak out of her.

Descending back down from their high, the only sounds in the room are their slowing breaths and the soft rustle of the sheets. It's hard not to notice the weight of reality when it begins to creep in around the edges.

She lies beneath him, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his back, but her mind is miles away.

“When are you leaving?” she finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando tenses for a moment, then shifts to lie beside her, propping his head on his hand to look at her. The vulnerability in her eyes twists something deep inside him.

She swallows hard, suddenly flooded by all the reasons they had fought, all the late nights filled with misunderstandings and misaligned priorities. She remembers all the reasons why they broke up, and thinking how bad of an idea this has been. Because, how can she let go of him again, without feeling like she'll be losing both her head and heart in the process.

“On Tuesday,” says Lando softly. “But not how you think.”

Her brow furrows in confusion as she turns to face him. “What do you mean?”

Lando leans over, his hand caressing her cheek as he gathers his thoughts.

“I’ve been thinking about us for months. Since you left, actually,” he begins, his voice low and deliberate. “I had a lot of time, and I managed to figure out why it didn’t work before, why I couldn’t give you what you deserved. So… I’ve talked to the team.”

She almost stops breathing, her eyes widening in his direction while she waits for him to continue. Months ago, she would've die to have this conversation, and now that it happens, she doesn't know how to behave.

“I'm working on a schedule. To have more time for us,” Lando explains.

Her heart skips a beat. “You’d do that?”

“For us,” he repeats, his voice firm. “I can’t keep pretending I’m okay without you. I don't want to be okay without you, it's stupid. And I don’t want to keep coming back here, hoping for a second chance, only to mess it up again. I want to get it right this time.”

She stares at him, not knowing what to do with that information. This is not the Lando she knows. The recklessness and impulsivity got replaced by caution and planning the steps ahead. It's new, and exciting, and it makes her tear up.

“And what if it still doesn’t work?” she asks, her voice small.

He leans closer, his forehead touching hers. “It will.”

His tone is so definitive that she can't say anything else, letting the silence stretch between them as she searches Lando's face for any sign of hesitation.

There’s none.

“How... did you actually know where to find me last night?”

Lando smirks, studying her face with half-closed eyes, bringing his hand to her jaw. “That friend of yours posted on her story. Honestly, I didn’t know you were going to be there. But I hoped.”

She shakes her head, scoffing, “Stalker behavior.”

Lando shrugs nonchallantly, “I just happened to be nearby,” he chuckles.

“Lucky me,” she says, tracing the contour of his nose with her finger, stopping on his jaw.

“Lucky us,” he corrects, pulling her in for another kiss.

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