#dw opening titles

[gallifreyangrumbling]

All Doctor Who Title Sequences: 1963-2023 | Doctor Who

Butterfly wings (1963-1967)

Howlround (1967-1969)

Suspiria (1970-1973)

Diamonds I: Vortex (1973-1974)

Diamonds II: TARDIS (1974-1980)

Starfield: Original/Fade In (1980-1981)

Starfield: Original/Slide In (1981-1984)

Starfield: Brighter/Flash In (1984-1985)

Starfield: Brighter/Flash In/Remix (1986)

Sylver & Ice (1987-1989)

"The TV Movie" (1996)

Past & Future: Orchestral/Plain Logo (2005-2006)

Past & Future: Orchestral/Firey Logo (2006-2007)

Past & Future: Rock Mix/Firey Logo (2007-2010)

Lightning storm: TARDIS Logo (2010-2011)

Lightning storm: Themed Logos (2012)

Swirl! Whoosh! Zaap! Zip! (2012-2013)

Time is spiralling (2014-2017)

Gloopy (2018-2022)

Diamonds III: Clouds (2023- )

[quietwingsinthesky]

hm. i think Even thinks of saxon as “their” Master in much the same way jack would think of nine as “his” Doctor. never forget your first, i suppose.

[polycephaly]

going on arcs/the shared art reblog blog and being like oooh hee hee learning

[lowkeyrobin]

(i’m not sure if your requests are open so i’m sorry if they aren’t and i’m sending this in 😭)

Can I request Five with a reader that’s always really energetic and yaps a lot but something happens between them and Reader gets distant?? 🫶

ooo yeah sure!! ; and my requests are on dw! when they're closed I remove my inbox in general just to avoid it and to prevent ppl who don't look at the big bold words in my bio lol ; but yeah, thank you for requesting! hope you enjoy! ; also I made this in hc format cause I was NOT trying to write all that

FIVE HARGREEVES ; yapparappa

summary ; youre really energetic and talkative, but once a fight breaks, you become distant and quiet

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; don't ask ab the title, I was just thinking parappa the rapper and yeah idk

word count ; 278

masterlist

he's a quiet guy

but he'll happily listen to your yapping

you surprisingly teach him a lot

and he finds it comforting

like classical music to Reginald, he wouldn't be able to survive without you

but after a fight (about Marcus / Sparrow Academy & him running off with Klaus and not being around for the Kugelblitz) you'd started to avoid him

he said some very rude things

those things being along the lines of how he wished he never met you, how annoying you are, how much he can't stand you, etc

so you obviously stormed off all angry at each other

but you'd become completely distant while he was trying to fix the world again

like you didn't come down for an early morning coffee with him like you usually did

nor did you rant about anything to him later that night or the ones following

if he was even around, you'd move away and not even look at him

like he hadn't heard you speak for DAYS

that's never happened before

like you're always rambling about something or asking him questions about shit, etc

he started to feel bad when Klaus started yelling at him about it

"this is childish! you're stuck in a child's body trying to prove you're a man and you're hurting your love!" he fake cries. "they could get kugelblitz'ed and their last memories of you would be you yelling at them, five"

he groans, deciding he'll go apologize to you

so he apologizes, expecting one from you as well

and you deliver

he's up front and honest that he doesn't find your rambling annoying

if anything its comforting for him

aweee happy ending lol

[slut4sugu]

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓 — HOBIE BROWN

❀ including: nsfw themes, so minors please don’t interact! Mentions of: Choking, edging, blowjobs, fingering, biting, thigh fucking, size kinks, dumbification, threesomes, wax play, quickies, creampies, etc. (nothing crazy dw loves) ❀ Summary: what the title says! An nsfw alphabet for hobie brown! (Aka my husband <3). #- a word from kam: since this was requested and im bored here you all are!

Back to masterlist . ୧ ‧₊˚ ♫: Slut me out- NLE CHOPPA

A- AFTERCARE (what their like after sex.)

No matter how tired he is he always cleans you up and gives you some water afterwards (unless you like emptied his balls or sum shit-) Sleepy kisses and tight cuddles until you both fall asleep, the playlist you originally had playing earlier that night still playing as you both fall asleep <33

B- BODY (their partners favorite body part)

Honestly he loves your body as a whole and claims. He doesn’t have any favorites but..he fucking loves you thighs bro. Doesn’t matter the size, just the feeling of thrusting his dick in between them or seeing his cum spurt out on them turns him on so much. Would def go crazy if you got his name tattooed on the inner sides of your thigh.

C-CUM

Honestly hobie loves the feeling of cumming inside of you but as I’ve stated before as much as loves to see his cum dribble out of you he loves coming on your cute body and taking pictures after wards (if you’re okay with it of course <3) If you were to ever tell him you would want him to finish in your mouth instead of inside js expected to go 2 extra rounds js because of that <3

D- DICK SIZE (how big are they?)

6.5 inches when soft but nearing 8 when he’s hard. (Yeah that shit is touching your heart girly) Also he’s a bit girth too, so every time he pushes into you it feels like you being split open for the first time all over again. And he cannot get enough of you saying he’s ‘too big’

E- EXPERIENCE ( do they know what they’re doing?)

Hobies been with many others before he’s met you, hes not a sex god or anything. However he’s a quick learner and knows what makes you feel good. When you first had sex he literally unclipped your bra with one hand, while his other rode up your thigh as if it was easy. When you’ve seen many of your ex’s struggle with getting it off with both hands, so needless to say it was attractive to see him multitask without breaking a sweat <3

F- FAVORITE POSTION

He honestly doesn’t have one, but he is fond of cowgirl. He loves seeing your tit’s bounce ontop of him, and gets veryy turned on when you lean down on him and beg him to help you reach your climax. Or when you feel more dominant and choke him lightly, loves that shit

G-GOOFY ( are they serious in the moment?)

He’s on the more serious side, though he will tease you a little if your a loud moaner or if you whine a lot. He loves getting on your nerves <3

H-HAIR (are they groomed down there?)

He trims so it’s not hairy or anything

I-INTIMACY

Veryyy romantic with you, hobie always tries to take his time with you unless your both just itching to fuck. Slow and lazy kisses pressed to your lips while his hands are all over your figure. It almost seems like he’s edging you at times because of how much he’s pacing you but he just wants you to know how much he appreciates his girl <33

J- JERK OFF ( how many times do they do it? Do they do it a all?)

When hobie isn’t with you or when he wasn’t dating you he’d jack off 2 times a day on average. Thinking about your pretty moans and how you jolt every time he sucks at the one sensitive vein on your inner thigh, while he fists his cock in his hand needily. Wishing it was your small soft one <3

K-KINKS

Choking, bondage, sensory play, spanking (to some degree), edging, overstimulation, degradation & praise, dry humping/grinding though clothes, semi public sex (fucking you in a closet in hq if your a spider) dumbification, size kink, creampies, the list goes onnn

L- LOCATION (where do they prefer to do it?)

He honestly would fuck you in a storage closet or in a public bathroom if he was that horny, though most of the times he likes to have the seclusion of having you to himself in his/ your apartment

M- MOTIVATION ( what turns them on?)

Anything. This man can get turned on by you simply not wearing a bra under his band tee and see your hard nipples due to the cold of the ac. Then a few thoughts about you later..you’re now under him getting your pussy eaten out all because you didn’t wear a bra.

N-NO (turn offs, things they wouldn’t do.)

Wax play, threesomes, having someone else watch you, knife play

O-ORAL (giving or receiving, and how good they are at it)

Hobie absolutely loves having his head between your legs, hearing your gasps and moans just turns him on so much and can calm him down after a long day. He’s really fucking good at it too, he’ll use his fingers and his tongue at once if he feels like being a tease or just anxious to feel you cum

Now on the receiving side: he’ll rarely say it verbally but he loves seeing you on your knees for him, almost as much as he loves feeling your pretty lips around his shaft. Seeing the bulge in your throat from trying to take all of him turns him on so damn much.

P-PACE ( how fast are they?)

Depending on his mood he can be slow and deep or fast and rough, he usually quickens his pace when he’s getting close, his head in the crook of your neck usually whispering dirty things into your ear to near your orgasm. But usually he’s in the middle, hitting your g-spot with deep thrust and a good pace.

Q-QUICKIES

As I’ve said before, if he’s horny enough he’ll fuck you for a good 8 minutes in a supply closet if he needs your cunt that bad. Though he really prefers having all the time he wants to make his pretty girl feel good.

Sorry loves i got tireddd, hope you enjoyed the hcs though!

[magicicephoenix]

Hey, I'm sorry if this sounds rude, but is it ok if you can just give me a quick explanation of dca who? au, or just send me the link to your explanation of it? I kinda just got tired from trying to find explanations of lots of aus... sorry.

hi i’m going to use your ask as a rough masterpost until i manufacture a permanent one

The DCA Who AU is inspired by the show Doctor Who. That’s why it’s called that; DCA replaces Doctor for a silly play on words. pretty please do not call it the “Who AU”, that’s not what it’s called. and you can refer to specific characters with the acronym “DW” (ex. DW!Moon, DW!Sun)

here are the designs for our main trio! the Moon and Y/N had a quick redesign so direct your attention to the second image for them. note that Y/N also wears pants and other things i just felt like giving them a skirt here :)

the Moon was inspired by the Doctor, and the Sun was inspired by the Master. and Y/N is the Moon’s companion.

Brief explanation for those who don’t know Doctor Who (but in the terms of the AU): the Moon and the Sun are of an ancient race called the Time Lords, who oversaw all of time and were very powerful. Some time ago, there was a giant battle called the Time War, in which all of the Time Lords were wiped out… except for the Moon. the Moon stole borrowed a special device called the TARDIS (Time And Relative Dimension(s) In Space), which is essentially a spaceship that is also a time machine. Years pass, and the Moon spends his time traveling from place to place; occasionally he comes across trouble, and he is one to help those who need it. The ‘start’ of the AU is when the Moon comes across Y/N during one of these bouts of trouble, and one thing leads to another and now Y/N is traveling alongside the Moon in the TARDIS!

the Sun comes much later in the story, once the Moon and Y/N become closer. he is a key antagonist and hates the Moon’s guts. why? unknown at the moment.

established lore (at the time of writing this):

the Time Lords are partly inorganic, partly organic. not just animatronics. They can open their mouths (though do not need to in order to speak) and eat. They don’t need to eat in order to survive, but it’s good for them. they also have fangs because fangs are fun. and retractable claws too.

in Doctor Who, Time Lords have a special ability that allows them to “regenerate” upon death, restoring their body with a new face and personality. in the DCA Who AU, this is replaced with a special program called the Regeneration Protocol, which kicks in when a Time Lord is fatally injured. it does a quick, barebones fix of the Time Lord’s body so that they won’t immediately die, and then initiates a mode where the Time Lord isn’t really mentally present as their body searches for materials to repair itself until they’re stable again. they will use anything (anything) in reach to do this. afterwards the Time Lord may suffer some negative effects, as running the protocol is harsh on the body & mind.

the Moon and the Sun used to be old friends. they have special nicknames for each other: “Moondust” and “Sunshine”. however, once they meet again in the AU, the Sun refuses use of his nickname. additionally, the Moon gives Y/N the nickname “Star” and also “Starlight” occasionally, and the Sun (upon meeting them) nicknames them “Dewdrop.” these names have out-of-universe significance :)

i’m using their full titles here but the Moon and the Sun are good to just be called “Moon” and “Sun”! doesn’t matter to them.

Y/N is in their 20s, lives alone, and is somewhat distant from their family. they don’t have much to return to.

the collars around the Moon and the Sun’s neck are a special cloaking device! it’s for if they time travel to a point where cyborgs/animatronic/the like aren’t considered people or are disproved of. it works as a sort of perception filter that forces the brain to gloss over the non organic parts of their appearance, essentially accepting them as whatever form of being would make sense in the scenario (ex. on earth surrounded by humans? must be human! on mars surrounded by martians? must be martian! though it usually defaults to human for simplicity’s sake, especially when the Moon’s with Y/N)

playlists

Main playlist; songs are arranged in chronological order to the AU :)

Sun's playlist; no particular order

[formulawolff]

“the best weekend of my life” - t.w.

pairing: female driver!reader x toto wolff

warnings: some cursing, golden girl being down bad for her man and toto returning the love, very fluffy and cute shit, whispers of engagement, some slut shaming, hate comments, yadayadayada

a/n: this is set after the events of the final chapter of alkaline & between the events of the epilogue (which will be posted sometime here soon!) i just miss writing for our golden girl and her man! i hope y’all enjoy! <3

liked by lilymhe, torgerwolff, mercedesamgf1 and 906,673 others!

goldengirl: victory could not taste any sweeter. to my parents, thank you for always supporting your little girl’s dream. to lewis, george, & alex, thank you for welcoming me into the racing community with open arms and fueling my desire to compete. to lily, thank you for being my best friend and telling me that i can achieve this. to the mercedes team, thank you for taking a chance & signing this hot-headed “brat.”

and finally, to the love of my life. toto, you were the reason that this happened. thank you for taking my hand and helping me achieve greatness. thank you for being the shoulder to cry on. thank you for pushing me to the best driver i can possibly be. over a year ago, you promised me that you would make me a world champion.

here we are, my love.

i’m the first female world champion in formula 1! 🏆 not only that, but i have joined phil hill and mario andretti as the only americans to win this title! 🇺🇸

don’t worry, this win won’t be the first. there are many more titles to come! 💫

view 78,763 comments

lilymhe: STFU I AM SO PROUD OF YOU!!!

lilymhe: MY QUEEN!

lilymhe: this was so cutesy yet iconic at the same time

lilymhe: thank YOU for being my best friend! you will forever be MY golden girl! I LOVE YOU! 🩷

alex_albon: i am so unbelievably proud of you! i am so blessed to be one of your best friends and fellow competitors. i love you! 🤍

goldengirlforever: WHAT THE FUCK IS A KILOMETER⁉️ 🦅💥🇺🇸 on some real shit, congratulations queen! you deserved this!

ggstan4life: BAHAHAHA

ggstan4life: america 🔛🔝

lewishamilton: muchhhhh deserved! i am so proud of you! keep proving them wrong! 🩶 we will remember your name for decades to come

f1fangirly: did you REALLY deserve that win though? 🤨

mercgirly69: no for real. what the fuck was this season? hoping 2026 is better 🙄

totoswife1978: perks of fucking the team principal i guess!

view more replies

georgerussell63: i am so proud of you. 🤍

georgerussell63: i totally didn’t cry or anything!

carmenmmundt: i totally didn’t wipe away your tears or anything

f1fan: queen behavior! you deserved this!

carmenmmundt: georgie & i cried while you were on that podium! i can’t think of anyone else who deserves this more! soak in your victory babes. we are so proud of you 💓

georgerussell63: HEY! what about me? 😢

lewishamilton: be patient georgie, your time will come 🤍

mercfangirly: lewis really said “no🩷 not rn george”

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torgerwolff: i love you, golden girl. you have worked so hard for this. i can’t wait to celebrate with you later tonight! 😄

ggstan4life: wdym by that? 🤨

f1fan420: PLEASE TOTO—

f1fan69: TOTO— I—

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landonorris: congratulations! proud of you! 🧡

mercedesamgf1: we are so proud of you, golden girl! 🎉 time to pop that champagne and celebrate! 🍾

goldengirl just posted!

liked by lilymhe, alex_albon, lewishamilton & 1,000,001 others!

goldengirl: the best night of my life. i will love you forever, torger wolff.

view 500,072 comments

lilymhe: my app just crashed

lilymhe: i have never clicked on a post notification so fast in my LIFE

lilymhe: PLEASE ANSWER MY FT CALLS WHAT IS HAPPENING

alex_albon: baby dw she’s not answering my calls either. we will get to the bottom of this!

alex_albon: are you in your engaged era? what is this? 🤨

lewishamilton: george and i are blowing up your phone

lewishamilton: please pick up

lewishamilton: poor georgie is STRESSED

goldengirlforever: MA’AM⁉️ I THINK YOU BROKE THE INTERNET WITH THIS ONE

ggstan4life: i’m quite LITCHERALLY on the edge of my seat

f1fangirly19: NO LITERALLY

f1fangirl09: WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON⁉️

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georgerussell63: if you don’t pick up the phone rn 😀🔫

georgerussell63: YOU KNOW HOW NOSY I AM! I NEED TO KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON!!

carmenmmundt: is this what i think it is?

mercedesfan: GIRL IS THIS AN ENGAGEMENT POST⁉️

mercfan76: I AM WONDERING THE SAME THING

landonorris: i am also stressing trying to figure out what this means 😩

mclarengirl73: LANDO PLEASE—

view more replies

goldengirl: i leave my phone two seconds and here we are 🙄

lilymhe: I NEED ANSWERS!!! NOW!!!

alex_albon: group ft call incoming!

mercfan29: ALEX DKENEMEK

view more replies

mercedesamgf1: we are also curious to know what this is about… 😶

f1teaspill: check your dms babe!

f1news: is this an engagement post? if so, check your dms! we would love to do a story! 🩷

[hearts4golbach]

could you do johnnie x reader where the reader ‘teases’ johnnie while he’s streaming and it leads to more after his stream? love your work btw 🖤

Ecstasy.

pairing:

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

a/n:

title reference iykyk. kinda short, sorryyy

warnings:

slight sexting, hair pulling, slapping (ass dw no abuse), use of mama,

you groaned quietly from Johnnies bed. "How much longer are you going to stream?"

"Not long," he whispered, covering his microphone so no one could hear your conversation. "What's up?"

you moved to sit on your knees while staying in bed. you leaned forward. your cleavage was prominent because of the tank top you were wearing. "cause the more I hear your voice, the more you turn me on."

his face heated up.  he cleared his throat. "I won't take much longer, okay?"

you sighed, "Okay." You got off the bed and walked into the bathroom. you started the shower and got undressed.

you stepped in, the luke warm water hit your back. you grabbed your phone and snapped a photo of you standing in the shower. you sent it to Johnnie.

it took him less than 30 seconds to respond.

johnnie: fuck y/n

you took another photo at a different angle.

you: Come join meee

johnnie: I'm ending the stream right now

johnnie: god, I can't wait to feel you

you: What are you waiting for

he read your message. the door to the bathroom opened not long after. you heard his rings and jewelry clack as they hit the counter.

he hurriedly got into the shower. his hands met your hips as he pulled you closer to him. his hard cock was pressed against your thigh. "hey beautiful."

his raven colored hair had started to get wet. you moved it out of his face. "hey," you whispered before pressing your lips onto his.

Johnnies lips glided with yours passionately as his hands roamed your body. his hands worked their way down to your ass. as he massaged it gently, you let out a quiet moan into his mouth.

he took that opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. your tongue swirled along with his as he pulled you closer.

you hand wandered down his chest before finding his cock. you began to stroke it gently, smiling into the kiss as he whimpered quietly.

he grabbed your waist and switched your positions. he pressed you against the cold, wet tile wall as he continued to kiss you. he kissed down your neck, leaving small hickeys.

he nipped at your jawline. "turn around for me, mama."

you did as he told, turning around and pressing your face against the tile. his hands slid up your lower back before one tangled in your hair. he pulled your head back gently and whispered in your ear. "you look so fucking good like this."

the heat between your legs began to grow. "god," you whimpered. "please, fuck me, Johnnie."

he leaned his body against yours as he aligned his tip with your entrance. "Since you asked so nicely."

he thrusted inside of you with a grunt. your mouth fell open as a low moan came out of your mouth. "so fucking good for me." he breathed out before releasing your hair.

he gripped your hips and began to thrust inside of you. your walls squeezed him tight, making him grunt with each thrust. his hand slapped your ass. the sting made you moan out. it turned you on even more.

you grinded back onto him. "shit," he mumbled as he quickened his pace.

one hand moved to your throat. his fingers wrapped around it tightly, making your moans come out hoarse.

"You can take it, babe." his voice echoed throughout the bathroom. the sound of his hips meeting your ass was rhythmic. "you feel so fucking good." he kissed your shoulder.

"fuck," you choked out as his grip on your neck grew tighter. "you fuck me so good, Johnnie."

"I know." he teased. "only I can fuck you like this."

you hummed an agreement that was cut off by a moan as his thrusts grew quicker. your mouth fell open as you couldn't help but moan out curses and his name.

"you needed my dick so bad," he teased once again, "happy now?"

you nodded your head quickly. "fuck, I could take you all night, Johnnie."

"you just might," he grunted as his cock pistoned in and out of you.

"oh, shit." you whimpered. he leaned over you and bit your shoulder, leaving a dark hickey behind.

his hand moved from your throat to your hair. he pulled your head back, making your back arch. his cock thrusted inside of you deeper, making you scream his name.

"so fucking good, ma." he praised.

"fuck, I'm so c-close." you were breathing heavily in between words.

"you gonna cum on my dick already?" he choked out. "that's so fucking hot." he hissed, his pace relentless.

"yes, yes!" you squeeled. your mouth fell open, and your eyes fluttered shut. ecstasy coursed through your body.

your walls spasmed around his dick as you felt the knot in your stomach about to snap. his grip stayed in your hair while the other was on your hip.

"let go, y/n." he kissed along your neck. "come on, mama."

you squeezed your eyes shut and moaned loudly as you came on his dick. he pulled out and came on your back, which was quickly washed off by the water.

you turned around and wrapped your arms around his neck. you looked into his eyes with a happy smile. "what?" he asked, smiling back.

"nothin'. I love you." you pecked his lips before pulling away and reaching for the shampoo.

[aezuria]

*ੈ✎ two boys (one to kiss your neck and one to bring you breakfast)

note: guys this wasnt supposed to be my first work here but it came to me the easiest 😔😔 song title is bike dream by rostum 😍this isnt like the meaning of the song tho dw

content: leo valdez x reader, jason x reader; dating hcs

*ੈ LEO VALDEZ

loves affectionately and openly

he'll peck your lips in front of everyone without a care in the world, as if after he's had a taste of your touch, he can't go a second without it (he'd probably make out with you if you let him)

he follows you everywhere, even trying to go with you while you shower (he'll never go inside the actual shower unless you want to)

"leo, as much as i love you, no. not today at least!"

"i'll just sit on the toilet seat, i swear! and i can talk about all my cool inventions!"

(maybe you'll change your mind?)

has to have a hand on you at all times

even a pinky will do for him

he loves holding pinkies actually, he thinks its so cute

will make you pinky promise not to snitch on him when he blurts out a new prank idea in the works

loves overexaggerating gentlemanly acts?? for the sillies

like he'll bow down to a 90 degree angle and swoop an arm out while the other kisses your hand

opens the car door for you like an escort

"for you, milady!" and does a cheeky little wink as he bows

he loves it when you play along like a rich noble from the 1800s

showers you with the metal work he does

he'll make you cute little rings and necklaces if you like jewelry

or metal flowers that'll never wilt

or something more practical, like a switchblade if you like those

either wakes up at 5am or sleeps in until noon there is no in between

or maybe he stays up until 5am because one time you caught him slipping out of bed to finish up the gift he was making you

"leo? what are you doing up?" you rub your eyes sleepily as you catch him at his desk, the lamp you gifted him glowing dimly

he startles and shoves (gently) the scraps of metal you see behind his arm

he grins sheepishly and rests his hand on his fist, positioning himself so you wouldn't see what he was making

"uh.. nothing! just finishing something!" he doesn't lie per se, but he'd rather not tell you the whole truth just yet (he loves how your face lights up when he presents another gift to you)

being the half-asleep mess you are, you didn't notice much

"alright.. just go to sleep soon, okay?" you yawn and turn back around to head back to bed.

"will do!" he whisper-shouts after you and sighs to himself in relief once you leave. close call!

you find a warm blanket preventing you from getting up the next morning, which just happened to be leo, his arms wrapped around your waist as if you were a pillow

a few more hours of sleep can't hurt, right?

*ੈ JASON GRACE

he's a bit shy to love

doesn't really do pda, but he'll hold your hand lotsss

if you guys started dating but didn't announce it, no one would catch on until they see you and jason holding hands (that took a lot of courage on his end btw)

after that he was a bit more open about it

i feel like he's kind of awkward at first

he tried to sneak up behind you one time and hug you but you turned around too soon and accidentally rammed your head into his chin

he tried to play it off because he's too cool to be embarrassed (his face was bright red)

can and will pick you up

it all started when you guys were running from monsters but your leg was injured so you couldn't move that fast and he literally just swooped you up bridal style and RAN

ran like the wind, even (haha guys pls laugh)

literally sprinting even as he carries a whole person like you were nothing

you fell in love (again)

he found out you like it when he does that so he'll do it randomly

"so then i said-" you were cut off with a yelp as jason picked you up off the bed and carried you in his arms, swinging you gently with a smile on his face

you pause in your storytelling, blinking at him as you grow increasingly flustered

he merely nods at you, saying, "keep going, i'm listening."

OH MY GOODNESS

tried to do reps with you after but you kept laughing

acts of service is so him

when you complain about it being too hot, he'll send a cool breeze your way

if you ask him if he did that, he'll play dumb

it was sweltering outside, the summer heat even worse as the both of you hiked up a trail

"gods, it's so hot!" you complained, taking a long swig of your water

jason hummed his agreement, and shortly after you felt a weird breeze out of nowhere

you pause, eyeing the demigod in front of you

"jason?"

"yeah?"

"did you do that?" you prod at his back teasingly, the smile evident in your voice

"i have no idea what you're talking about."

[mushgloomz]

Modern Love

dbf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

• A/N: you asked and i shall provide. presenting my new magnum opus, dbf!Joel x reader slow burn realness - i want this shit to last, so it will be a series (apologies if you were hoping for a one-off, i can't bring myself to do it). also probs good to mention that this is a shameless self-insert fic bc us british girlies need some JM love okay? title and chapters inspired by 80s songs bc i'm insatiable.

• Warnings: no outbreak au, language, alcohol consumption, pet names, reader is afab, british and has hair - no other physical descriptions (and the british thing is only mentioned in passing dw).

• Word Count: approx 2.5k

1: Let’s Hear It for the Boy

You pottered around the kitchen, the countertops left messy in your wake; you weren’t a baker by any stretch of the imagination, but you’d tasked yourself off with making a birthday cake. If it came out edible, you’d gladly consider it a successful endeavor.

It wasn’t your birthday, nor your father’s - ever since your parents’ divorce and your father’s subsequent mid-life crisis move to the States, you’d lived with your dad in Austin, Texas. Both of you had been there for the best part of six years. You’d visit your mother back in the UK periodically, usually over the summer, and return just in time for the neighbourhood’s favourite celebration: Joel Miller’s birthday BBQ.

Joel and your father had become fast friends; meeting at a trader’s warehouse by chance, and bonding over their appreciation for a cold one in front of the TV. Both men were reserved by nature and were single fathers to their kids - that being yourself and Sarah, Joel’s daughter.

You ducked your head, peeking into the oven to check on the progress of your passion project. Nothing looked burnt as far as you could see and, much to your surprise, a pleasant smell was emanating from the cake tins and wafting around the kitchen.

When your father had asked why you were so insistent on making a cake for his best friend, you fell short of an answer. The reality was that, since you’d known him, Joel had been at the centre of near enough every fantasy you’d had. He was hot, funny, and surprisingly kind given his reputation for being a bit of a grouch.

You’d almost developed a sort of secondary friendship with Joel, branching off from that of him and your father. He’d ask for you to ‘babysit’ Sarah for him, even though she was sixteen and arguably more capable at taking care of herself than you were. A fledgling friendship grew between her and yourself each time you visited; letting her talk about the drama at her highschool.

Another ten minutes passed before you finally conceded and opened the oven door, a waft of steam hitting your face as you did so. From what you could see and smell, the labour of love had been successful. You pulled the tins from the rack, and set them on the side to cool. You’d deal with them later - now, it was time for you to get yourself sorted.

You hopped into the shower, rinsing batter from the ends of your hair, scrubbing at every inch of your body. Despite the painfully obvious fact that Joel Miller was not the kind of man to date someone half his age, you preened and polished yourself until you were silky smooth and quite literally glowing - you opted to live in hope, after all.

After your shower you traipsed into your room, slumping onto your bed, still wrapped in a towel. You scrolled through your phone aimlessly, reading through messages that you'd been sent whilst you'd been distracted by your newfound baking talent.

tell the DILF I say happy birthday ;)

The message from your best friend back in the UK elicited a small laugh. There was something pleasantly nostalgic about tittering over someone entirely unattainable; it reminded you of being back at school, taking it in turns to gush over whatever boyband member took your fancy at the time.

Enjoy the party today, don't make a tit of yourself xx

Your mother knew you all too well. In all fairness, she had dealt with the consequences of your drunken teenage years most of the time, so it made sense. You scrolled through a few more generic messages; the work group-chat, a discount code from some mailing list, and...

Excited to see you kid :)

Oh. Oh. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Joel was excited to see you. He probably sent the same message to several other people, but you relished in the attention nonetheless. If anything, it spurred you on to finally get dressed and get back to the cake downstairs.

You slipped on a summer dress; it was light and airy, perfect for the brutally hot weather. It was ankle length, a soft pink and white paisley-style print over the soft cotton, and a split to the thigh over the right leg. It hugged where it needed to, and honestly? You looked fucking fantastic.

Trotting down the stairs and back into the kitchen, you groaned under your breath. The mess that you'd made whilst baking was worse when you saw it with fresh eyes. The cakes were cooled now on the wire rack that you had left them on; your dad would just have to dodge the splodges of batter and eggshell scattered across the countertops.

After a futile attempt at decorating, you gazed down at the cake. How you'd managed to cock up the icing this much was beyond you, but it would have to do. Your dad was waiting impatiently by the front door, grumbling under his breath, a six pack of beers and a card tucked under his arm. You grabbed the cake, wrapped it in tinfoil, and headed out, balancing it on a platter as you and your father made the short walk to the Miller household.

It was only a few minutes before you'd arrived, stepping up onto the porch behind your father, allowing him to knock whilst your hands were full. A moment passed, and then the door opened. A wide grin and sparkling brown eyes revealed themselves; a charcoal grey t-shirt clung to tan arms. It took all of your self-restraint to not gawp every time you saw Joel - he just got better and better.

Joel clapped a hand on your father's shoulder, mumbling something and essentially shoving him through the threshold of the door. Then his eyes turned to yours, glancing quickly down at the tinfoil wrapped cake in your hands, before speaking with a chuckle.

"Run outta wrapping paper, huh kid?"

You felt your cheeks warm. "Bold of you to assume this is for you, huh Joel?", you quipped teasingly. Much to your delight, your retort elicited another gravelly chuckle from the man. He leant against the doorframe, and you raised an eyebrow, trying not to stare at his bicep. "Well, are you gonna invite me in?", you questioned with a smirk. Joel stood upright, shrugging playfully as he did so.

"'Spose I'd better. Go on, get your ass inside kid."

The giggle that escaped your mouth was entirely involuntary as you ducked under Joel's arm and into the house. A fair few people were milling around indoors, but a majority of the guests were situated in the backyard. You made your way through the back door after perching the cake on the kitchen table.

A few people turned and gave polite waves when you stepped outside, others started their beeline toward you to exchange mundane pleasantries - ‘you’re looking very well!’, and ‘how’s that job of yours?’, and the dreaded ‘have you found a nice boy yet?’. You rinsed and repeated your answers for each person, smiling politely.

Sarah was sat on the grass with a friend; your father was swigging from a bottle of beer and laughing animatedly amongst a group of middle-aged men. Your heart nearly leapt of your chest when someone tapped you on the shoulder, causing you to spin around quickly, eyes wide. Tommy Miller, Joel’s younger brother, stood with a smug grin plastered over his face.

“Well ain’t this a surprise? Don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a drink in your hand at these get-togethers.”

You scoffed, feigning offence at the all too real accusation. “Big talk for a man that isn’t offering to get me a drink”, you retorted, smirking. Tommy threw his hands up, palms toward you in mock defense, laughing.

“Whoa now! I’m a fine southern gentleman, ‘course I’ll get you a drink. All you had to do was ask, doll.”

The conversations you had with Tommy consisted of little more than playful flirting; sometimes you wondered if he was actually flirting with you, but seeing how he acted around women he was actively trying to pick up resolved any doubts. Any fire and sass was quelled, and he would become almost meek and reserved - the embodiment of flushed cheeks and a coy smile. It was nice being able to know where you stood with him, especially since you didn’t have a fucking clue when it came to Joel.

~~~~

As the hours passed and alcohol swilled around the mouths of every adult in sight, the polite affair that was once a celebratory BBQ had devolved into a raucous cacophony of laughter as a very drunk Joel lured everyone inside the house, stumbling as he went. You were drunk, but not to the same degree; with everyone settled inside, you decided it was the ideal moment to bring out the cake.

You peeled the tinfoil from the confection, grimacing slightly as you looked at it once more - even with beer goggles, it still looked akin to a toddler’s cooking class attempt rather than a 50 year old man’s birthday cake. You stuck a single candle in the centre and used the lighter you had stolen from Tommy earlier that afternoon to light it, before lifting it carefully and carrying it toward the lounge.

As you entered you nodded once at your dad, who was just sober enough to understand your signal, and started to lead the group into a pitchy chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’. You grinned as you walked over to where Joel was sat, setting the cake down on the coffee table in front of him before backing up, snapping a photo of the birthday boy as he held a hand to his chest, a soft smile on his face. He looked at you as he leant down to blow out his candle, mouthing ‘thank you’ before blowing out the flame.

“Y’all sure know how to make a man feel like one lucky son of a bitch. Thanks for comin’ everyone.”

Joel chuckled, smiling widely as he spoke. You glanced at the faces around you; the single women of the neighbourhood doting on his every word, a couple of the married ones too. Your dad held up his beer, calling for a cheers. Picking up your own bottle, you held it up in Joel’s direction, beaming at him as others held up their own drinks.

People began to engage in their own conversations again, shifting and mingling amongst themselves as more drinks were poured. Joel sidled up beside you, standing over you as you cut slices of cake.

“You make this yourself, sweetheart? Just for me?”

Heart thumping in your chest, cheeks burning, you nodded with a shy smile. Before you could raise the knife again, a thick finger swept up some of the icing on the cake’s border. You turned around and watched as Joel put the same finger in his mouth, shooting you a wink as he pulled the digit out with a satisfying pop. He leant in close, so close you could smell the alcohol on his breath melding with his cologne.

“Mm. Tastes as good as you look in that pretty lil’ dress.”

Like a fish out of water, your mouth dropped open ever so slightly and you inhaled sharply. Before you could even comprehend what had just happened, Joel had turned away, shouting out to someone setting up karaoke by the television. Did that really just happen? You must have been hearing things, surely? You considered pouring the rest of your drink away, but fuck it; if you were hearing things like that, it would be worth the hangover.

Karaoke was a shambles, as expected. This wasn't the first birthday BBQ that Joel had relished in the karaoke machine being dragged out - despite his usually very collected exterior, he loved to sing, especially once he had a few drinks in him. It was never the song choice you'd expect someone like him to go for either - the man had a soft spot for 80s music and always requested a power ballad.

Perched on the arm of the sofa, you had a front row seat to Joel's latest performance; in fact, you were one of the few people actually paying any attention. It felt like he was singing to you, the way he crooned the words to 'Don't Dream It's Over', his eyes glancing over your form every once in a while. God, he was gorgeous.

The song concluded and you couldn't resist snapping another photo of the man as he took a swig from his bottle in front of you. It was one of the few occasions that you could get away with it, under the guise of taking them for memory's sake. Joel caught you, and smirked as he lowered his bottle.

Your dress had slipped from one of your shoulders a tad, and before you could lift it once more, Joel had stepped forward. He took the soft cotton between his fingers, letting the tips of them graze your shoulder ever so gently as he slowly shifted it back into place. Your eyes were wide, gazing up at him, your tongue swiping over your bottom lip just so. Joel hummed, low and rumbling, barely audible.

"Sweet girl... better keep that tongue in your mouth 'fore I forget who I am."

Swallowing hard, mouth running dry... did he actually just say that? Did he mean to say it in such a sultry tone? "I-I, uh...", your response was unintelligible at best as you stumbled over the flurry of thoughts in your head. The lounge had since cleared out; Joel chuckled softly under his breath. With a tender touch, he raised a hand to your cheek; a calloused thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

Your lips parted slightly as your breath caught in your throat. Every beat of your heart reverberated in your head. Joel leaned down, still smirking, as he pressed his lips against yours. A breathy gasp left your lips as his moved firmly against yours for just a few moments. He pulled away sooner than you had wanted, leaving you sat there with your chest rising and falling heavily.

Joel's jaw clenched and he scrunched his eyes shut as he stood in front of you, dragging a hand down his face with a sigh. He mumbled something under his breath that sounded like an apology, shaking his head ever so slightly, before he turned to leave. You watched as he left the room, stomach turning all the while. Nausea rose up inside you, and as you made a sprint for the bathroom, you couldn't shake the feeling that it was your fault he had responded in such a way. Shit.

[littlemissayu]

“YOU SPOKE!!” – Their kids first words (Night Raven 3rd Years-Malleus & Lilia)

A/n: Yes I ‘m well aware I haven’t updated/posted my other oc request from my event, even though it ended over a month ago BUT it’s getting done and I will try to finish as fast as I can. I ‘m just posting this because it’s been delayed forever and I need something to get my writing juices going.

If you see me mention gender it’s based off of my Twst boys as Parents series that you can find here!!

Warnings: FEM! Reader, pregnancy,domestic fluff, babies(ofc), google translate translations, I’m only doing their first kids/first set of kids

pairing(s):3rd Years x fem!Reader(separate/romantic)

Yummy/Delicious- Hears you say it everytime Trey makes a really good baked treat(aka all the time). Now I know delicious is probably a hard word for a baby to say which is why I also have ‘yummy’. They say it for the first time after Trey gives them a small part of a macaroon. You could just see how Trey’s eyes lit up when he heard his little one speak for the first time!!

Smile!!/Cheese!!- The two of you (mostly Cater) always say these phrases to your kids, so it’s no surprise when their first words are smile and cheese. With the family album(that I 100% believe Cater would start making once you get pregnant). When Cater heard his babies speak for the very first time he got super sentimental and excited calling you over(if you weren’t already there)

Papa!- Now this is solely based on my personal headcanon that Leona’s first kid would be a girl and a total Daddy’s girl. Always with him, even though you carried her for 9 MONTHS, homegirl got evicted from the womb and wanted to follow around papa. I also believe this happened as he was getting something and turned his back to her so she tried to get his attention. His ears immediately shoot up and his eyes open wide. He instantly picks up his cub and rushes over to you to tell you what your daughter just said. But dw, her next word ended up being mama. Is so proud of his little girl~

Pretty!- You’re always saying this to your husband so she eventually just picks up on it. Also hears other people saying it about either you or Vil; not to mention you and Vil do occasionally call her “pretty girl”. So she’s just surrounded by the word so it's no shocker when it’s her first word. Vil just beamed at his daughter, truly feeling the sentiment. His little girl, his pride and joy has spoken for the first time BUTTTT sadly he wasn’t there to witness it. So all that happened when he came back from work. He almost left early after you told him over the phone. But he could be more proud of his kleiner engel.

Up!!- Now this is because this little Hunt loves being picked up, especially when her father is flying on his broom. They love the feeling of being high up and flying through the sky with her father. Rook is always open to giving his petit oiseau what they ask. When his little one said their first words he couldn’t help but outburst with joy. He couldn’t stop praising them for speaking, then when you came in or called out to him/your child, he began praising you for giving this wonderful child.

Play!!/Uh oh- Now 2 things to establish, 1. Ik “uh oh isn’t a word” but I’m just gonna have to count it and I will explain why 2. Why are there 2 different words, well if you read this fic here!!, you’ll learn that I believe Idia has twin boys therefore I wrote 2 different words. Now onto my explanation; for ‘play’ it just makes sense, sitting on his dad’s lap watching him play games that say and display the word ‘play’ on the title screen ofc that would be his kid’s first word it just makes sense. Now for your other twin boy this was his first “word” because whenever Idia gets frustrated on the game at a certain point he hears you say “uh oh”, meaning “Dad’s about to burst”. They also have learnt(bc they're a very smart child) that they can use this for other times when something is about to go wrong so they do say it when something might go wrong. Idia seemed nonchalant at first place but then a smile grew on Idia’s face from his adorable talking twins.<3

Heartsabyul Masterlist

Savanaclaw Masterlist

Pomefiore Masterlist

Ignihyde Masterlist

[max-nico]

Y'all I got more of my random Sonic headcanons 🗣️

Silver loves to doodle, Tails can always tell if he's stopped by his workshop because he doodles in the corner of his blue prints

Shadow can't stand sleeping on his back because he was in stasis for so long, plus it gives him sleep paralysis

Charmy is a thumb sucker💔

Vector's been trying to break the habit but nothing seems to be working

One time Silver gave Amy a recipe from the future, when he got back all of his cookbooks with similar recipes changed in some way. Could've been the cover, title, or the recipe itself

For some reason, the new recipe was even better than the old one

Shadow, as the ultimate lifeform, has 30/20 vision somehow

Blaze is at least part wildcat. Whether that's a panther, lion, puma, or something completely different I know it is within her

Everyone listens to Vanilla. Everyone. Even the other adults

Espio is constantly putting himself in needlessly dangerous situations to 'see if his body can take it'. Nobody likes that he does this

Tails hates being referred to as Sonic's baby/kid brother. If anything, he's a sidekick or a little brother and that's only because Sonic is taller than him, not because he's a kid

Surge and Wave get really competitive on hoverboards, but it's all in good fun (mostly)

Tails is incredibly smart and incredibly gullible, like I know he's fallen for "updog" at least once, and has fallen for the "someone wrote gullible on the ceiling" joke multiple times

You will hurt his feelings if you point this out

No one in team dark can cook, they tried to get lessons from Amy and Vanilla (both together and separately) they are banned from both kitchens now

Dw !! Vanilla is still willing to give them lessons, just only at one of their houses from now on :) (her kitchen will never recover)

If Sonic is passing through town and sees some particularly cool merch of his friends he'll stop to grab it, if he has time

If Sonic doesn't know where Tails is sometimes they have a little bit of a scavenger hunt, or maybe hide n go seek is the better term

Tails will periodically send pictures of where he is, dropping hints if he thinks they're necessary, and Sonic has to find them (Sonic doesn't know Tails invented this game so Sonic keeps his tracking skills sharp during down time)

I wouldn't be surprised if some of the other duos or trios adopted this game as well. I imagine specifically team dark would get carried away with this

One time some stranger held a phone up to Shadows face out of nowhere and asked him about his political views. Shadow smiled and said "whichever ones you don't agree with" and then teleported away

And that's all I have for now I think... It's been a while since I posted one of these, but it's still just as fun to write lol

Feel free to give me more headcanons in the reblogs or whatever, and my askbox is always open (��◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

change my mind - ln4

summary: inspired by 1D's song of the same title - are we friends or are we more?

warnings: f!reader, hints at anxiety and insomnia, that vegas crash, angst, miscommunication (it gets solved dw), swearing, maybe a little bit of awkwardness, fluff. also feel like it drops off towards the end so i might have to come back and edit it at some point

word count: 9.7k

Since the crash it felt as though you’d been holding your breath. Right from when the camera on the straight seemed to jolt from an unexpected impact; on the way to the medical centre; in the car to the hospital. In fact, it only felt like you’d released that breath when Lando had given you the key to his hotel room and you’d shut it behind you.

Then, and only then, it felt like you could breathe.

Your head thudded against the door, the view of The Strip visible even from where you were stood – the neon lights were difficult to miss in the night, even more so when the entire room was still shrouded in darkness. You inhaled through your nose, ensuring to fill your lungs with some much needed air, before breathing it out through your mouth.

Your heart was still racing, something squeezing in your chest, and the exhaustion seemed to blanket you in that very moment, your brain constantly replaying the sounds and the mangled sight of his car. It seemed intent, however, on showing you flickers of his face as he’d climbed out of the Medical Car, trying not to wince at the ache in his bones as his Dad pressed him into a hug or as any part of him made contact with the hospital bed. 

In all honesty, you didn’t think you’d ever been so anxious before. Those paralysing seconds where the only thing heard on the radio was static just seemed to have occurred so long ago, but that one moment seemed to cement the dread poured into your chest from then on.

Until now, until he’d given you the key to his room, until your eyes seemed to find all the McLaren paraphernalia and kit thrown carelessly over the back of chairs, on hooks, folded neatly inside a suitcase. Then all of the tension you’d harboured, not wanting to overstep or interrupt the medical exams just to ask him if he was okay, to hold his hand – you weren’t even sure if the latter was for his sake or yours.

You sighed, pushing yourself off the door and flicking on the lights. The mess was even worse in the light, and it wasn’t just limited to McLaren merch – there were undies and socks (it was unclear if they were clean, and you weren’t about to figure that out) scattered about, random pairings of t-shirts and joggers near the open suitcase, but not in it.

You rolled your eyes, putting your bag on the desk, and reaching for the TV remote to switch on the F1 TV channel as background noise. You didn’t really know why he’d given you his key, but you supposed it could have had something to do with the look on your face, or how your hands had been a little shaky, or how you’d barely spoken a word to him – not for lack of him trying or anything: Lando had actively tried to ask you questions, but with all the medical staff and McLaren members surrounding him, that task had been a little difficult.

And the first thing that had sprung to mind when you’d stepped into the lift up to his room was to run him a bath because after that rather bruising session, it was probably the best soother, but now that you’d been faced with this absolute calamity (you’d seen teenage boys’ rooms tidier than this), you weren’t entirely sure how you could not at least help him pack – to an extent. 

Clearing the space off the floors and making sure he slept in a bed not made out of his own clothes was a start.

You shrugged off your jacket and hung it on the back of the door before stepping over some clothes and opening the bathroom door. You’d prepared to be met with more remnants of a burgled wardrobe, but contrary to the living space, there was nothing in the bathroom except a Spider-Man wash bag – potions and lotions neatly stacked inside. 

There were some bottles in the corner shelf in the tub, the hotel logo branded on the front, and after running the tap until the water started to get warmer, you put in the plug and poured in some foam before returning back to the living space.

Your eyes immediately seemed to zip to the TV above the desk, Ted Kravitz wandering down the paddock talking to someone holding a framed photo of…Valterri’s bum. You blinked, automatically moving to the kettle and flicking the switch on.

Coffee was a must for you to stay awake longer.

And it was then that you started to pick up some clothing off his floor, collating the articles on top of his bed and you’d made it through three quarters of the entire pile when the buzzer for the lock on the door went off. 

It was Lando. Decked in a jacket definitely not his own, with the way it seemed to dwarf him: the sleeves had been haphazardly pushed up his forearms, probably to make use of his hands, and the body of the jacket hung past his hips. 

When he turned to face the room after locking the door behind him, his eyes seemed to stick first on the empty floor before trailing to you, something soft. He had bags under his eyes, and you could tell he’d been wearing headphones in the meeting because his hair had flattened slightly in the middle.

You didn’t move from where you’d sat, but from the unreadable expression on his face and the way he seemed to hesitate, it had you questioning whether he’d intended for you to still be in his room when he came back – but then he wouldn’t have given you the key, surely?

His lips twitched, and that second-guessing seemed to vanish completely at his lame attempt to smile for you – even though it was clearly forced with the entire whirlwind of the entire race, but there was a hint of authenticity because of the softness in his eyes, and without even meaning to, you felt a smile begin to creep on your own face.

At that, he seemed to gain movement in his legs, and made his way to the desk, head snapping up to the TV for a brief second, before shedding the jacket and putting his key down.

It was his sluggish movements that seemed to have that knot of anxiety punching its way through your stomach once more (it had dwindled somewhat when he’d walked through the door), and you inhaled somewhat sharply, “Are you okay?”

It was the first word you’d spoken out loud, and the roughness of your voice seemed to shock both of you, because you blinked, and he spun on his heel, eyebrows raising. You felt yourself wince, and you swallowed out of instinct–

“Just a bit achy–Can you stand up a second, I just–” He sighed, cutting himself off and stepping forwards.

You furrowed your brows, placing the shirt in your hands on the bed, and doing as he said, and it was barely a second when–

Oh.

He’d almost instantly tugged you into him, his arms settling across your shoulders,  his chin tucked against your temple. He was warm and soft, even despite the hard ridges you knew existed under his fireproof shirt. Something felt off, though, and it was with a hurried hum that you realised you hadn’t reciprocated it.

It was a bit of a shock, being hugged by Lando so tightly, so close. Even more so because neither of you had ever really touched before; there’d been the odd shoulder brush when you’d been standing next to each other, the odd purposeful hand touch when one of you had slapped the other’s out of the way – but it had never been this: his chin touching your temple and his hands strong across your back and shoulders, pulling you as close to him as he could manage.

And then you seemed to regain sense in your arms because you automatically seemed to reach one arm across his back and the other slung across his waist, head tilting a little upwards to somewhat nestle itself into the crook of his neck.

If you were being honest, hugs weren’t usually your kind of thing, but you could tolerate (a tad of an understatement) it from Lando, even in his post-three-lap-stint and slight stench of sweat. 

You stayed like that for a while, the knot in your chest easing gradually now you’d got your hands on him, and by the time he spoke up, disrupting the peace that you’d managed to find, you felt like you had to blink yourself awake, “Feel better now. I’m sorry I ruined your first race.” He mumbled, stomach tensing as he spoke.

You took a moment, “You didn’t ruin it–”

“I did.”

You pulled yourself away from him, but almost like he’d practised it, his hands clasped onto yours, preventing you from moving too far away, and he brought them up to around shoulder height between you both, his fingers twiddling with yours to distract himself, “Well, then, I forgive you.” You shrugged.

His hands were slightly rough to touch, and a little colder than yours, and you tried not to let the absentminded way he was playing with your hands cloud your brain because it was distracting, especially with the way his thumb seemed intent on stroking repetitive patterns across the back of your hand. Not to mention the way his eyes seemed to flit between your mouth and your eyes, as though he wanted to watch you speak and commit it to his memory, as you spoke.

It sent your blood thrumming a little.

He nodded slowly, as though he was digesting your words, but he took too long to say something else so you said the other thing that had been on the tip of your tongue, “I’d have lost interest in it anyway, ‘cos you weren’t driving.”

He smirked at that, “No you wouldn’t have.”

He was right – to an extent. The only positive about the Vegas track was that the drivers were racing in the Championship and sport you’d been following closely for years. But other than the investment in the championship, that was about where your interest in that specific race ended – with Lando’s crash. 

“Well, I’d have rather gone with you than sit in your garage without you on-site.” You admitted, honesty dripping from every word, “Especially because I probably wouldn’t have known if you were okay if I stayed.”

He swallowed, your eyes unconsciously watching his throat bob, “How come?”

You pulled your joined hands down, shrugging and avoiding eye contact in order to actually gain the courage to say what had immediately come to mind. 

Why was it so difficult for you to actually say what you felt? God forbid you actually want to let him know what he meant.

“You’re important and I care about you.” You rushed out, chewing the inside of your cheek nervously. 

When he didn’t say anything you pulled your hands out of his and were about to change the entire conversation back to the bath you’d run him when his eyes crinkled out of the corner of your eyes. He had one of those cheeky smiles on his face, like he was aware he probably shouldn’t have been smiling like that at that moment in time, but thinking that only seemed to make him worse. And when you fully turned to look at him again, you were struck with the thought that you’d never known anyone to smile with their entire being like Lando Norris seemed to do unfailingly and everyday.

His happiness was just so infectious that it was part of the reason you liked him so much – but it also made you want to…protect it, you guessed. And when he stopped smiling earlier, after you’d been told to meet him in the medical centre, the world seemed to shake, because he was very rarely ever smiling.

He didn’t stop smiling, even when you looked straight at him, not impressed with his silence in the slightest and huffing to let him know.

“What?” You asked, one eyebrow raised and slightly self-conscious of what you were doing and wearing and what you probably looked like after the day you’d had.

He shrugged, shaking his head, smile never drooping one bit, “You care about me.” 

It wasn’t a question, more so a statement of shock – repetition to drill it into his head.

You nodded, swallowing, slightly embarrassed at having to say it again, “Yeah.”

He nodded this time, pushing himself onto his tiptoes for a second, “I care about you too. You’re important to me.”

You won’t deny that your heart did a little skip at his words, or that your cheeks threatened to blossom with heat, or that hearing him say those words to you didn’t send your pulse spiralling a little out of control.

It was an unfamiliar feeling, being this vulnerable to someone not related to you. It was weird, but because of who it was and because of the circumstances, it felt oddly right.

“That’s nice.” You muttered, crossing your arms and avoiding looking at him.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself. It wasn’t as though he’d confessed his undying love for you or anything, but it was nice to hear. You knew where you stood with him.

“It is.” He agreed.

There was a beat of silence, and you took the liberty of changing the subject before it could get too awkward too quickly, “I ran you a hot bath, by the way. It felt like the right thing to do after….”

“Thank you.” His tone was a little sombre, but still every bit sincere. A cloud seemed to hang over the both of you for a second, “Sorry I didn’t get to talk to you when everything went–”

“You don’t have to keep apologising.” You breathed, sitting back down on the edge of the bed and resuming some folding to give yourself something to do.

“But I do–”

“Shut the fuck up.” You laughed a little, immediately dropping your expression to correct yourself, “With respect.”

Lando smiled a little at that, “If you insist, but–” You groaned, rolling your eyes, “I just want to check in and make sure I didn’t scare you, y’know, would you still come to another race?”

You blinked, “Course I would.” 

There wasn’t really a doubt about it. The scare of the day had worn off in the span of your conversation, it was just that period of not knowing, and the fact that a TV screen didn’t do the cars justice in the speed. They went so much faster than you initially expected.

“Good.” Then, “Are you okay, though?”

“Yeah, it was just a lot, that’s all. Like, the impact, the broken car, then you were talking about everything that hurt but somehow you weren’t injured? I don’t know.” You sighed in resignation, “Do you ever get scared in the car?”

He seemed to think about it for a moment, “The day I get scared is the day I stop driving. Fear in the car makes you crazy.”

“What about when you lose control and you know you’re gonna crash out?”

You watched him closely as his throat bobbed and he slowly stepped over to the bathroom doorframe, leaning against it to look at you thoughtfully, “There’s definitely a moment where my heart sort of skips a beat, kind of like when you miss a step on the stairs, but the adrenalin doesn’t really let me get scared at that moment. It’s scary when I watch it back and realise if I’d have been a metre or so closer I might not be here. But I don’t like thinking about it if it doesn’t happen.”

You paused the folding, “When you said your heart does that skip, can you think or is your mind just blank?”

“Blank. It happens so fast. I know I have to move my hands, though, but I think that’s partly just instinct driven into us from when we were kids. I don’t really have to think about that, but–” He pulled a face, running a hand over his chest and huffing a laugh, “If it’s fast I’m thinking ‘fuck, this is gonna hurt’.”

That made you laugh.

Then he looked over his shoulder and you stood up, taking the hint.

“Wai–What’re you doing?” He stood up straight, watching as you made your way over to the desk to pick up your bag.

You pulled a face, pointing to the door, “I’m gonna go, and you’re gonna have a bath.”

“No.” He shook his head defiantly, walking over to you with a frown on his face.

You blinked, “Yes.”

“No.”

“I didn’t realise that when bathtime was mentioned that you’d stomp your foot and pout at me.” You smothered a smile behind your hand, eyes sparkling with amusement as Lando went to defend himself, only to realise that he had in fact reverted to pouting (as far as an adult man could when sulking).

“No.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I thought you might stay over tonight?”

You froze. Then promptly unfroze, “Why?”

“For a sleepover, I don’t know.” He shrugged.

“I don’t think—” You halted, taking in the way his face seemed to fall slightly, “Do you want me to stay?”

You didn’t not want to. You’d admit that much to yourself. The idea of sharing a bed with someone you trusted platonically and had a crush on was about as appealing as the guaranteed night of uninterrupted sleep (that didn’t run the risk of being crushed, someone breathing heavily in your ear, or someone talking in their sleep). 

The corner of his mouth twitched as he tilted his head, “I’d like for you to stay, but I want you to say you want to stay because you want to, not just because I want you to and you feel obligated to stay.”

You took another step forward, about to say yes, before he interrupted again.

“Um–” His voice was slightly high in pitch, a sure sign that he’d begun to panic slightly, but before you let him succumb to (clear) disappointment (it did wonders for your ego) and potentially embarrass himself, you cut over him.

“I’m gonna go get my PJ’s–” he grinned, “and then I’ll come back here–” began taking off the legs of his racing suit, “for a sleepover, or whatever, sound good?”

“Sounds incredible, darling.” He winked, throwing you a charming smirk that had you standing in the doorway (for longer than what was probably deemed appropriate to gather yourself), and he turned into the bathroom, disappearing from sight. 

***

Walking back into Lando’s room with wet hair, a clean face, the PJ’s you’d packed (not expecting a sleepover), your current book, and a hotel robe, all felt very intimate. It might have had something to do with the fact that you knew he’d also be freshly washed with wet hair and wearing his PJ’s and in bed — waiting for you.

And when you rounded the corner after buzzing yourself in, Lando was sitting against the headboard, one arm slung over the top of his head and his other hand clutching his phone. He must have been anticipating your arrival if the way he threw his phone further down the covers was any indication, and the way he smiled at you, dimples on show and everything, had you turning to avoid looking at him and hanging the robe over the back of the bathroom door.

The boy is too cute.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He grinned, unconsciously rubbing a palm down his arm and still maintaining a mischievous smile. 

“It’s almost like we planned it.” You threw over your shoulder before climbing onto the bed.

He breathed a laugh, “Almost. Cute PJ’s, by the way.” He trailed his eyes meaningfully down your figure as you threw the duvet over yourself, getting comfy.

You’d not packed sexy PJ’s by any means. In fact, you hardly owned a proper pair of pyjamas, and rather just threw on a random t-shirt with whatever bottoms were comfiest and warmest, hence the fact you’d packed a pair of faux-boxer shorts and were wearing a Quadrant Bleach tee that Ria had given you a while ago.

“Rumour has it you couldn’t decide what merch to give me so Ria took it into her own hands.” You gestured to your shirt, smiling rather pointedly in his direction. He squirmed a little, and it was then, as he curled in on himself slightly, that the duvet fell around his torso from where it had been pulled right up to his chin to keep a draught out. 

He was fucking shirtless. And when that seemed to register in your head and through your eyes, you were squirming. His pecs, bronze skin and moles were on view and you suddenly had no clue how to act.

Luckily for you, Lando seemed to have the same problem for whatever reason.

“Yeah. I had one of pretty much everything lined up for you, but it wouldn’t have been ‘financially viable’ apparently.”

Oh. You felt your brows shoot up in pleasant surprise.

“I didn’t know that.” 

“That was the point.” Lando said, rather self-deprecating, “It looks good on you, though.”

A ‘thank you’ was on the tip of your tongue, but before it could slip out, your brain seemed to take on another direction, one much bolder than what was characteristic of you, “I don’t know, I think LN4 stuff’d look nicer.”

It shocked him as much as it shocked you — that much you could tell by the way that his eyebrows seemed to disappear under the damp curls that had hung across his forehead from where he’d clearly initially combed them backwards. His mouth seemed to drop a little, and his cheeks reddened.

But you barely had time to school your own face into one of confidence to fully own what you just said before he was spurting words out himself.

“Wanna test that theory?” 

And he was climbing out of bed before you could even utter a word of protest.

You’d never been so thankful that he didn’t have eyes at the back of his head because when he took a step away from the bed, clad in nothing but black boxer briefs that clung almost maddeningly to his thighs, you practically had a heart attack. It was hard to rip your eyes away, if you were being honest.

But the very second he turned back to face you, throwing a long-sleeved tee in your direction, you somehow managed to look at him without even a smidge of blush on your face or without wearing an expression that assembled one of sheer awe.

Then you blinked and the t-shirt was hitting you in the face. It was a black 100 Race one.

A new one.

And because it hit you in the face the first thing you noticed was the smell. Now, Lando Norris was not a smelly person, at all. In fact, that t-shirt smelled so unfairly divine that you wanted to eat it. Melt it into a smoothie and drink it. In a normal way.

You had it in your hands and were looking pointedly at Lando for about seven seconds until he got the hint to turn around and close his eyes.

In return for his previous goodwill, you threw the Quadrant shirt at his back and climbed out of bed to assess it in the mirror. It was a slightly smaller fit than the other t-shirt, so it didn’t hang past your hips, or over your hands like you’d expected.

Oddly enough, it was almost a perfect fit.

Lando walked into the background of the mirror, catching your eye as he nodded appreciatively.

“Better than Bleach?” You asked, pushing the sleeves up to your elbow before climbing back under the covers.

His answer was him folding the Bleach t-shirt neatly and placing it on the desk.

“Way better.” 

There wasn’t anything said for a while after that. Lando got back under the covers, snuggling down into his pillow and browsing through his phone, while you opened your book and kept your bedside light on to read for a while.

Until Lando seemingly couldn’t take the silence and turned his phone off, rolling towards the middle of the bed on his front and looking up at you.

He was content on letting you read for a while, eyes fluttering shut every now and again as though he was trying to fight sleep, when he muttered something under his breath.

“Sorry?” You bent your head, finishing reading the sentence before turning to see him blinking slowly, lashes kissing his cheeks as he rested his face against his elbow.

“Do you read every night?” He repeated, not in the least bit offended you weren’t paying him attention.

You hummed, nodding, slouching further into the mattress.

“How come?” He asked, fingers stretching to gently twiddle a small section of your hair before dropping it.

“I have trouble sleeping sometimes, and reading helps.”

“How?”

You shrugged, “It gets my brain to shut up.”

“Does anything else help?” He mumbled, eyebrow twitching.

You wanted to say yes. That some other things could help, but for one, you didn’t have the results to back up that claim, and two, you weren’t about to suggest trying it to Lando.

“I don’t think so.” 

Lando hummed and didn’t say anything else, giving you the opportunity to switch off your bedside lamp, shrouding the whole room in darkness. Despite the coolness of the Vegas nights, the heat of another body under a duvet was enough to send your skin tingling with goosebumps and bury yourself deeper under the covers.

A gentle tugging on your hair once you’d settled was what had your eyes opening.

You hadn’t really been trying to sleep, per se, but Lando hadn’t so much as moved a muscle since you’d switched off the light, and his silence had you assuming he’d been trying to sleep, at least until his fingers had delicately begun twisting your damp hair.

If you hadn’t found it so shocking, it would have been soothing.

It took a while for your eyes to adjust, but once they did, all you could make out was the faint outline of Lando’s head and the gleam of his eyes from the light from The Strip.

Your eyes immediately scrunched shut, unable to tell if he thought you were asleep.

Then—“pretty” he breathed, your heart stuttering wildly in your chest.

He thought you were sleeping.

And he stopped twirling your hair, nestling his cheek into the pillow.

***

You woke up early and with Lando’s arm slung lazily across your waist, one of his legs stuck across yours. You froze momentarily, not having any recollection of exactly when you’d both ended up with him half draped over you, but considering you couldn’t remember much after hearing his whisper, you assumed you must have just gone right to sleep.

Which meant this happened in the night.

You tilted your head fractionally, eyes slipping over to where Lando was now on his stomach, cheek squished right into the pillow and a crease between his brows. 

And then that short moment was interrupted by something uncomfortably occurring in your chest.

Your free hand (the other was sandwiched between your hip and Lando’s, nicely toasty of you did say so yourself) blindly reached for your bedside table, scrabbling at an uncomfortable angle until you found your phone. It took a while to manage to slide it across the wood for you to pick it up, and you groaned at the time displayed on the screen.

08:31.

You didn’t need to leave for the airport for another twelve hours, and had already mostly packed in your room. The only issue apart from your current predicament was the rumbling of your stomach, prompting some encouragement to get out of bed.

Which you absolutely did not want to do.

It was warm and you were being cuddled by a sleepy Lando, you weren’t about to risk waking him up. Even though it was your first race, you knew how exhausted he usually was the day after.

So you opted for scrolling on your phone, not before removing your hand from between you both and instead using it to hold the forearm he’d thrown over your waist.

The hotel corridors started to get a little noisier, doors shutting and opening, footsteps thumping, at around half nine/ten o’clock.

It must have been the neighbouring slam of the door that had Lando jolting awake — jumping as though he’d been thrown down the stairs in a dream. You stifled a laugh, trying not to smile at his rapid blinking, until his eyes settled on you, brows accusatory when he realised you were on the brink of laughing at him.

He groaned, slamming his face back onto the pillow and yawning, his arm briefly tensing as he stretched.

“How long have you been awake?” He mumbled, tilting his head so as to not muffle his words against the pillow.

“About an hour.” 

He frowned, removing his arm from your hold and flipping himself onto his back, yawning, “How come you didn’t wake me up?”

You blinked, “Because it was half eight and you were asleep.”

He nodded, scratching the back of his head, “You hungry?”

“Yeah. You want to get breakfast downstairs, or–”

“Room service is good with me.” 

Lando turned to hide his smile as he reached for the phone. Selfishly he wanted to stay in bed longer – the outside world was chilly – and there was the added bonus that you were there. Obviously he’d want more time with just the two of you, because outside this room, you guys barely got time for a conversation without being interrupted.

That was excluding the scheduled takeaways you both had every time he was back in town (it had started out as a joke because you were both so busy and no one seemed to be able to decide on specific dates, so you’d taken it into your own hands and…here you were), and he suspected that was when the more serious feelings started.

So, no, he’d rather not go downstairs where other people would interrupt and he’d barely get to talk to you.

“D’you know what you–What’re you doing?” He furrowed his brows,, about to hand you the menu when he stopped short of everything and watched you wander over to the front of the room.

Out of bed. Wearing his shirt.

Looking fucking incredible.

And he was thinking he could probably get used to this.

But his brain was going haywire because he didn’t want you to leave.

You said nothing, which did virtually nothing to ease his sense of panic, until you held up the TV remote, running a tired hand through your hair before tiptoeing back to the bed and sliding back under the covers like you belonged there.

“No.” You hummed, taking the menu from him and simultaneously flicking through the TV guide for something to watch.

“Did you sleep okay last night?” He found himself asking, noting the still-sleepy look about you – but not necessarily the bad kind of sleepy. You looked well-rested with rosy cheeks and bright eyes.

Pretty.

“Yeah. It was cosy.” You flashed him a warm smile, eye contact brief before going back to the menu, “What about you?”

“I’ll probably just have pancakes–”

“No,” you breathed a laugh, “Did you sleep well?”

Oh. He could feel his cheeks redden at the mistake, and nodded. In truth, he didn’t think he’d ever slept so well, even despite being a small bundle of nerves from the mere knowledge that you’d actually changed your mind and said yes to a sleepover, and the fact that you were less than three feet away. That was ignoring when he’d woken up to find out you’d been awake for so long and not wanted to wake him up or move him from where he’d (rather sheepishly) managed to hug you in his sleep.

“Cosy.” Was all he said, taking the menu back from you, “What’ll it be for you?”

“Pancakes, too, please.” You grinned at him, turning back to the TV.

He nodded, numbly reaching for the phone on his bedside table and rattling off the order, making sure to add in a glasses of milk and orange juice to accompany it.

When he’d finished and turned back to the TV, to you, there was a question written on your face as you pointed to the TV.

The Hangover.

“When in Vegas, right?” You asked, raising a brow and awaiting his answer.

He’d seen that movie a million times, had even watched it on Thursday (he’d never tell you that), but there was something about the hope and excitement written on your face that had him nodding along, not wanting to disappoint you this early in the morning.

God, he felt so bad when he crashed yesterday. 

Not only had he ruined the race experience for you, but he’d worried you. You hadn’t even needed to say anything after the whole debacle (he hadn’t actually given you a real answer when you’d asked him why he wanted you to come with him to the hospital and whatever) for him to read it on your face. 

He’d had every intention of whispering reassurances and holding your hand or doing something to have you closer than the edges of a constant small crowd, but he’d been strapped down and people had been talking over each other, and he just hadn’t had the chance.

Until the car ride back to the paddock. Sure, Jon was sitting next to him, but he’d kindly and rather respectfully chosen to ring Zak and give him an update, and then Lando took that brief moment of opportunity to hold your hand. He didn’t say anything, but almost as soon as his hand had touched yours he felt better – lighter. And he noticed that the weight on your shoulders and the crease between your brow lessened.

He sighed wistfully, tuning back into the film, but it was barely five minutes later when there was a knock on the door.

Room service.

He stopped you from moving, taking it upon himself to answer the door (he couldn’t tell if he was imagining it or not, but he swore he could feel your eyes on him as he walked past the end of the bed).

He cracked the door open, eyes on the floor where he expected the tray to be, only to look down and see a pair of trainers that most definitely belonged to Max.

His eyes shot up, and he hid himself behind the door, careful of you back around the corner, but wanting to shield himself from any passerbyers in the corridor – a photo of him answering the door in nothing but his undies would be pretty embarrassing – and glared at his friend, confusion clearly evident on his face.

Max was grinning like a madman, trying and failing to sneak a look behind Lando, “So?” He whispered, and Lando felt himself already getting irritated at the clear insinuation of that one singular word.

“No.” He answered, closing his eyes briefly and resting his temple against the door.

Max was quiet, “No.” He repeated, an element of disbelief etched on his face.

“No.” Lando groaned quietly, “Is that all?”

“No.” Max hissed, “Why not?”

Lando felt himself shrug, “Didn’t come up.”

Max blinked, rather frustrated, “You were supposed to make it come up.”

“Well I didn’t.”

“Clearly.” Max folded his arms across his chest and Lando rolled his eyes, “How come you’re only wearing your boxers?”

Lando looked down, brows furrowing, “What’s wrong with boxers?”

“The lack of other clothes? You always wear PJ’s.” Lando watched as the penny dropped in Max’s head, his eyes widening and his mouth forming an ‘o’ shape. Then he frowned, “Show off.”

Lando shook his head, “And what about it? I just wanted to be sure.”

“And are you?”

Lando chose not to say anything, just threw a cautious look behind his shoulder – one which prompted Max to jump to his reassurances.

“She does, okay?” He whispered softly, a pitiful look on his face, “I know that because of the way she looks at you when you’re not looking. She cares about you, man.” There was a pause, and Lando was too nervous to even look straight at Max, so he chose to focus on a spot above his head, completely missing the way Max hesitated, “She told P.”

Lando felt his neck practically snap to look at Max, nervousness completely abolished. His heart started thrumming with anticipation and the only thing he was capable of doing was staring so hard at Max the man’s skin prickled, “What?” Lando breathed, hoping he hadn’t just heard things in a mad craze.

Max screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t be telling you this–”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Hagrid, but the situation is kinda dire here.” Lando cut in.

Max rolled his eyes, “Yeah, it’s kinda hard not to notice you’re a fucking chicken.”

“I’m on the brink of an anxiety attack.” 

“Get a grip.” Max glared, half wanting to smack some sense into Lando and the other half wanting to laugh at the petrified look on his face.

“I can’t.” Lando threw the door open a little further out of frustration, hands going to grip Max’s shoulders in desperation.

Max breathed. He blinked. And then Lando thought he made an expression that looked as though he’d just suffered the most painful bout of trapped gas, “Don’t tell anyone–”

“Oh, thank fuck.”

“But P told me that they had a girls night with Ria, and they got to talking about guys, and P asked her if she had her eye on anyone and she got all blushy–”

“Get on with it.” Lando clenched his jaw, eyes darting down the corridor.

“I’m getting to it. Can she hear us? Actually, it doesn’t matter – but she got blushy and quiet and it turns out she’s liked you since we all went out for dinner the day after Silverstone, y’know, because she couldn’t go to the race, and you guys sat next to each other and she just liked you.” 

(You could hear every word of what was being said.)

Lando felt his lips part in shock. Silverstone was towards the start of the season and there was one race left of the season.

July, August, September, October, November. You’d liked him for five months and hidden it from him that well? Since July? You guys could have been together-together since July? 

Lando could feel his brain start to explode. His thoughts were getting louder–since July?–and Max’s face wasn’t doing anything to help it. If anything his big eyes were making it worse. 

“Yeah, I know, it’s hard to believe.” Max muttered, and it seemed to snap Lando out of his shock-induced reverie.

“Oi.” Lando defended, “Did she say what made her like me?” He slowly took his hands off his friends shoulders.

Max nodded, “You talked to her the whole night. You were kind, funny, endearing, cute, nice to the waiter. Apparently she felt kind of bad you didn’t talk much to anyone else–”

“I didn’t talk to anyone else because I really liked her already.” Lando whispered, trying not to smile.

Max smirked, “Well, you need to tell her that, not me.”

Lando nodded, “Yeah. Bye.” And shut the door in Max’s face, taking a second to breathe and plant a small, non-suspicious-granting smile on his face before bounding around the corner to his side of the bed, flashing you a wider grin as he threw himself on the bed.

You swallowed, anxiety twirling in your stomach. You knew that telling P that stuff was likely to get back to Max, and then there was a chance that Max had told Lando – but you were shocked to find that Max had just chosen to hold onto that information out of loyalty to you. It warmed you, knowing you’d got a friend in Max, but it was also a little frustrating because you’d specifically been counting on P telling Max telling Lando. Maybe put a few feelers out.

And there was nothing reported back, so you just assumed Lando didn’t like you like that.

But he apparently did?

It was a tough thing to accept (a good thing to accept, you guessed), but not at all what you expected. You’d been planning for heartbreak (not that you'd planned to tell him), but now within the span of a two minute conversation, you had liberty to not expect disappointment.

And that was a little intimidating.

But Lando hadn’t stopped smiling since he’d put himself back on the bed, not bothering to get back under the covers considering it had been Max at the door, not room service–

“Who was it?” You asked, wanting to keep up the pretence of not having heard every word of their private conversation.

Lando hummed, one arm draped over his hair as he ripped his eyes away from the screen, “Sorry?”

He was looking at your mouth when you spoke, “Who was at the door?” 

Then his eyes zipped to yours, “Just Max, he wanted to know if we were having breakfast downstairs. Sent him on his way.”

You nodded.

You could mention what you just heard, ask him if he remembered the dinner out. No, not subtle enough. He’d clock onto it immediately.

But you couldn’t just not say something.

Your hands darted out to fiddle with the edge of the duvet, where it was tucked around your torso. You weren’t even paying attention to the film anymore. You don’t know how long you let your mind run rings around your anxiety, but it was Lando’s hand creeping closer towards yours out of the corner of your eyes that had your head quietening. You watched him push his hand across the covers until it got within a centimetre of yours.

You could feel the warmth from his hand radiating on your skin, and his hesitation was clearly an opportunity for you to pull your hand away.

So you placed your palm on top of his upturned one. And he closed his fingers over your knuckles.

“You okay?” He asked softly.

You couldn’t look at him, but you could feel his concerned gaze burn against your cheek, “Yeah, just thinking.” You took a breath, looking up at him, “Do you ever wish we could have met earlier?”

He was nodding before you’d even finished talking, his entire face sincere in a way you didn’t think you’d ever seen, “All the time. I think meeting you earlier would have just made my life a lot easier.”

You tilted your head, squeezing his hand as you felt some colour rush to your cheeks, “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, “You make me feel calm, like, I look at you and I just feel better.”

He was looking at you like he was expecting you to say something back immediately, but your mind had gone blank. 

So blank.

And then you felt his hand slowly slipping from your grip, his shoulders moving back to the centre of the bed from he’d leaned across to hold your hand, and you squeezed his hand, not wanting him to move away. You just needed a second to gather your thoughts.

“I need t–”

A knock at the door sounded.

Lando’s eyes darted from you to the door, back and forth, clearly torn. It wasn’t exactly a secret that you were about to say something serious – something that would change the entire dynamic of your relationship – but the interruption…

And at the thought of cold food after your stomach had been growling for the past hour, you made the decision for him. You unlaced your hands, pushing yourself off the bed and opening the door before you could change your mind or look at his face.

Neither of you said anything for the rest of breakfast, and nothing but an awkward, tense silence seemed to envelope the room. 

The next time you saw him was when the group had decided to go for a last minute stroll, one of the stops being the shopping centre in the Venetian. Lando was walking with Max,;Ria with you behind them, and the rest of the group were trailing behind, occasionally laughing loudly. They were pretty raucous, and you and Ria were far enough behind Max and Lando that they couldn’t hear what you were talking about.

Ria had linked your arms, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she pulled you closer after Lando had thrown another anxious glance over his shoulder to check on you, “Lando keeps checking you out.” She whispered.

You shook your head, momentarily biting the inside of your cheek, “He’s making sure I don’t run off.”

She frowned, looking back at Lando, who seemed to spin quickly after getting caught, “Why would you run off?”

You shrugged, trying not to think too much about it, “I overheard him and Max talking this morning about him liking me, and then Max told him about that night when we slept over at P’s place–”

“Yeah, because you wanted P to tell Max to tell Lando–” Ria nodded along.

“Exactly. Anyway, it turns out Max never told Lando, so since July, Lando’s been clueless about it all, and we had sort of a chat when he came back, and I was going to tell him–” Ria shot you a look, “I was, because if i didn’t tell him then, I never would’ve.” You groaned, “But then room service came and we haven’t talked since. But I think he knew I was going to say something, but–I don’t know.”

Ria seemed to think about it for a second, “He probably thinks you changed your mind.” She muttered.

You nodded, “I know, that’s the thing. I chickened out of telling him and then I thought he’d think I changed my mind, and then my brain seems to want to tell me that because he thinks I don’t like him anymore he won’t like me anymore, even though he’s not like that. At all. But now I can’t tell him because there’s people everywhere.”

Ria patted your arm, pulling out her phone, “Do you know what you’re gonna say to him?”

“No, I’m hoping it’ll come to me in the moment.” Even the thought of it sent a knot of anxiety plummeting in your stomach.

“Okay, this is what’s gonna happen: when we get to the shopping centre, everyone will want to go to the craziest shop they see first, okay? You say you want to get a drink first, and Max’ll get Lando to go with you.”

You nodded, “Okay.”

“I’ll text Max. You have to promise you’ll do it, though. Everyone needs to be put out of their misery.” 

You raised a sceptical brow, “Everyone?”

She nodded, “Neither of you are subtle.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

As it happened, Ria’s theory was right. About seven people made an immediate beeline for the nearest shop with lights in the front and an array of weird things in the window (in all honesty, you were too nervous to even pay attention to what it was, it could have just been any high street shop).

You turned to Ria, “I’m gonna go get a coffee, I’ll meet you back here?” 

She nodded, finding Max, who seemed to be on the lookout for her, and winked.

You took a deep breath, already beginning to walk away from the group. You’d all craned over a map on the way in so you knew vaguely which direction you were heading in, and when a hurried pair of footsteps jogged closer, your nerves seemed to only get worse. 

Then Lando stepped next to you, and oddly enough, the anxiety you’d been holding onto all morning seemed to evaporate. And then it seemed to come crashing back in when you actually took in the expression on his face. 

There was a slight downwards curve to his mouth, and his eyes were wide, brows furrowed. He looked a little frantic. And sad.

You wanted to drag your hand down his face and wipe it off.

In fact, you hated it so much that you stopped mid-step and grabbed his forearm without even thinking about it, “Is everything oka–”

“Are we still friends?” He breathed, eyes darting around your face.

You blinked, mouth parting at the loaded question. If you said yes you’d basically be rejecting him and that was the last thing you wanted to do; if you said no, you didn’t know what would happen. He could take it the wrong way and assume you didn’t want to be anything at all, but you were going to tell him – you had to, you promised Ria.

Even if it meant breaking his heart a little bit first, it’d have the best outcome.

You turned back around briefly, eyes scanning for a more private alcove, and dragged him to the nearest corridor, out of any possible stray eyes. It was a bit busy today, with the race last night–

You pushed him against the wall gently, hands wringing together. He slumped, clearly trying not to get too defeated by your silence after he’d spoken. But then his eyes dropped to your hands and he straightened, something unreadable on his face.

“I don’t want to still be friends.” You said, sighing and crossing your arms.

It was his turn to speak now. You seemed incapable of saying anything else at that moment.

He swallowed, brows furrowing. His face looked less despondent, so you took that as a win. He seemed to have been expecting you to say something like that (that was why he phrased the question in such a way!) because he pushed himself off the wall a little, “In what way?”

You rolled your eyes, “In an I like you way.”

“Romantically?” He took another step closer, a cheeky smile starting to curve at his mouth, and you said nothing at him.

Only this time it was of your own will.

He huffed a laugh, “I just need to hear you say it.”

“Romantically.” 

It felt like a relief getting those words off your chest to the person you needed to say them to.

He seemed to think so too, because he grinned. Wider than he had before – like he had done last night, when he’d smiled with his entire being. His eyes crinkled in that way you adored, and his smile seemed ot reach his ears, “Thank fuck.” He breathed.

Then that was all he said.

You raised your brow, “Dude.” You encouraged, gesturing to him to go on.

He pulled a face, “Don’t ‘dude’ me.”

“You haven’t given me a reason not to ‘dude’ you.”

“I like you too, dickhead.” He grumbled, “A little less than before you called me ‘dude’, though.”

“I’m liking you less by the second.” You stated, trying not to laugh at the situation, “Romantically?” You checked, echoing his earlier question and also mocking it slightly.

“Romantically.” He clarified. 

You both went silent, just drinking each other up in a way you hadn’t been able to five minutes ago. He looked gorgeous, as per usual. His hair was a little messier than it usually would be, probably a combination of the last-second plans and the fact that he wasn’t going to be showing his face on international TV. His face looked less restrained, like because he knew he didn’t have to hold back from looking at you everywhere, it was a weight lifted from his chest. His eyes were still smiling, glimmering a little, and his smile was softer – more secretive. His hands were flexing at his sides, as though he didn’t know what to do with them.

His hoodie hugged his shoulders, practically begging you to run your hands over them – but you didn’t. He looked snug, again, and before you could restrain yourself, you reached out and took one of his hands. His response was immediate, clasping his hand around yours and looking at you with a burning intensity. Only, you used your other hand to pull up his sleeve.

His forearm was tanned beautifully, veins completely visible. You’d never been allowed to just twist his arm around to your desire and simply look. You swallowed, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip and he caught it with his teeth. 

You nudged your head closer, his nose softly bumping against your cheek.

Blood seemed to pump through your veins even faster than it already was. You could feel where you’d both stepped into each other, where his legs were pressed against yours, where your hands were still gripping, your other hand slipping off his forearm.

You could feel his breath tickle your cheek and your eyes fluttered shut briefly before snapping open. He was still looking at you, and in that split second he used the leverage of your conjoined hands to pull you even closer. You stumbled a little into him, tripping over his trainers, chests colliding. Your free hand slapped out to stop your falling, landing directly on top of his shoulder to brace yourself.

If anything, his little pull seemed to work because you were closer than before. All you had to do was lean closer–

“I want to kiss you but I want to take you on a date first.” He whispered, sucking the inside of his cheek nervously.

You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, “Because you’re a gentleman.”

He nodded, leaning closer despite his words. His eyes seemed to be zeroed in on your lips, and your mouth curved into a smile almost instantly at that observation. Then he smiled, nodding, your foreheads touching, “Yeah.”

“What kind of gentleman would you be if I wanted you to kiss me but you said no?” You breathed.

“Not a very good one.”

Lando’s lips were softer than you imagined, but there was a soul-crushing desperation behind it – a need, maybe the thought that someone could walk past the end of the corridor at any second and ruin this little pocket of relief, so he needed to make it last. You were eager, meeting him with an equal force that seemed to knock the air out of your lungs and weaken your knees – but his hold on you, he was touching you everywhere: one hand was on your cheek and laced in your hair, the other holding your back and pushing him against you – and you were practically leaning on him.

You didn’t know if it was the culmination of pent up feeling being released, or the fact that you were kissing him, but it felt euphoric; the way you seemed to move together was almost as if it had been rehearsed – which was insane, if you really thought about it. But you couldn’t, because he was practically kissing the breath out of your lungs, and you don’t know when it happened but you were pressing against him roughly, one hand on the back of his neck and the other wound in his hair.

And then you pulled away, breathing heavily. Your pulse was hammering and your blood was singing. You knew your cheeks would be red and your lips would be swollen, hair messy, but in that moment you couldn’t honestly find it within yourself to care.

And then he smirked, taking in your appearance. 

His hair was practically everywhere. It looked like he’d just rolled out of bed after a deep sleep on one side of his face, and his cheeks were flushed, as were the tips of his ears and the slither of chest you could see from where his hoodie had slipped and been tugged. 

Then you smacked him on the arm – not very hard. More of a light tap. He hissed nonetheless, smirk dropping but eyes still glazed over and watching you with what you now knew was lovesick intrigue.

“You’re a fucking chicken.” You pointed at him, “We could have been doing that last night.”

His expression dropped, eyes refocusing, “No, we could have been doing that since July.”

You tilted your head, “Maybe August, because I would have had to actually make sure I liked you.”

His expression dropped a little, an inquisitive smile still on his face, “Did you hear that entire conversation with Max?”

“It was hard to miss.”

“Oh.” He nodded, a smile on his face as he looped one hand around your shoulder, pulling you closer. You thought he was pulling you in for another kiss, your hand pressed comfortably against his chest, and he was an eyelash-length away from it when he stopped.

You were about to groan.

“What do you mean you had to make sure you liked me?” His brow was arched, but his tone wasn’t malicious or suspicious in any way. If anything it was coated with a thinly veiled layer of curiosity.

You shrugged, “Crushes go away. This kind of seemed to stick.”

“Lucky for me.” He kissed you, hands pressed against your cheeks in a display of faux passion and drama, before letting you go, hands not leaving you or letting you stray too far.

“So you never said when you started to like me.” You murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head and avoiding eye contact.

“Now is not the time to get shy on me.” You breathed, a hand going to hold his sleeve.

“I’m not shy, I just—” He shook his head, self-deprecation evident, “If I had to say, probably May.”

You stalled, not able to say much, “Monaco?”

“Yeah.” 

Then something warm seemed to bloom in your chest and you felt your eyes soften and a small smile creep in your face at the admission, “When we met?”

He inhaled sharply, “Pretty much. I think the crush started when you offered to help me take my helmet photos.” 

You laughed, “Those photos were pretty funny.”

 He nodded, eyes darting again to the end of the corridor, “We can talk about all that later—”

“Agreed—”

“But I just wanna kiss you again.”

You just pulled him in.

[lowkeyrobin]

hawk x reader (theyre dating) and he asks about her scars? (theyre from sh) maybe it can be titled you drew stars around my scars? idk! if youre noit comfortable with this im so so sorry!

ooo sure yeah! ; and dw I'm cool w this kinda stuff, sometimes I just don't do it cause I can't think of a proper idea and stuff lol i can never make them super long or anything so i apologize ; but thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy! ; also I do only do gn / they/them readers so everyone feels included/ that's what I'm comfortable with just as an fyi

HAWK MOSKOWITZ ; you drew stars around my scars

summary ; after finding your scars, eli draws stars around your scars

warnings ; language, self harm / relapse

word count ; 522

masterlist

You stand beside Hawk in your Miyagi-Fang / Eagle-Do / whatever the fuck gi, hands behind your back as you listen to Mr. LaRusso and Johnny ramble on and on about the Sekai Taikai. You'd zoned out after a while, not being interested on going to Spain for some karate championship. You couldn't even get into the All Valley, whoever thought you were tough enough to take on the world was mentally deranged.

You already knew who was going, the core four, Miguel, Sam, Robby, and Tory, Hawk, and one lucky other candidate, probably Kenny or Devon, maybe Demetri. You didn't mind knowing you weren't going to go, but felt bad to not be there for Eli. You knew this meant a lot to him, at least, as karate always meant everything to him after he picked it up.

After the conversation ended, you head to the side with Eli as he wanted to spend some time with you while practicing. You were on defense while he worked on offense.

You work with a straight face, off in another world while your boyfriend threw moves at you that you half ass blocked. Eli notices something concerning, plus your half assed moves and your zoned out look, quickly stopping with a worried look.

God damn gi was so loose on your arms.

"Y/n? You okay?"

You quickly blink and nod, definitely not reassuring to him at all.

"Are you sure?"

"Yup"

As you sit down in the car with Eli, you stare out the window, waiting for him to take you home. You were quiet and distant, having barely spoken a word to your boyfriend.

You'd been growing distant for a while, the lack of sleep, the urge to hurt yourself again. It ate away at you like a parasite, a leech sucking away your energy and positivity.

As he sits down in the drivers seat, he looks at you, a soft, concerned look upon his face.

"Are you okay?"

You nod, pulling your sleeves down over your arms.

"Did you relapse?" He asks quickly but softly, worried about your health.

You stay silent, knowing you couldn't admit the truth but also couldn't lie to him.

"Y/n..." He softly rests his hand over your arm, pulling your sleeve up. You stay silent and limp, giving in to him. "How- Why?"

You shrug. "They're scars. They're old."

"How old?" He asks, wondering how long he'd gone without noticing.

"Months" You reply, leaning your head on your hand, elbow perched on the arm rest on the door.

He calmly grabs a red Sharpie from his console, opening it before grabbing your forearm carefully. He presses the marker to your skin, causing you to look over with a raised eyebrow.

"What're you doing, Eli?"

He smiles, continuing to draw little doodles around your scars.

"Drawing stars and shit, making it look all nice for my favorite person"

Your solemn expression morphs to a smile as you watch him draw little stars and hearts and flowers around your scars. Drawing wasn't his forte, but it was the thought that counted.

"I love you"

"Love you too, Moskowitz"

[thestarswillguide]

Believe it or not, before me and my sis watched the show, we thought that *Aaravos* was the dragon prince 😭

We'd never seen or heard of the show before 2024, so the first we saw of it was the season 6 trailer preview, and "oh WOW look at that beautiful blue elf crying on the floor wE nEeD tO wAtCh tHiS sHoW!!!" Lmao he was the reason we watched it

It didn't help that he was on the cover in outer space when we first watched it, and the title being Mystery of Aaravos we automatically thought that was him and he was some sweet, naive prince who likes to read (cuz of the opening) living in some faraway kingdom in outer space hskdydjkcvf-

So you can imagine us just sitting there the whole first season eagerly waiting for freaking Aaravos to hatch from the *BLUE* AND *SPARKLY* egg thinking he was an exotic dragon-elf hybrid or something (we were so scared when the egg was dying we thought we were gonna lose the pretty elf-) 😂😂

But then OH lOoK! Zym is born! Let's just say we were DISAPPOINTED we were wrong (I love Zym tho dw)

And then comes season 2, Viren looking in the mirror and "OMG THERE HE IS!! THE GORGEOUS STAR ELF WE'VE BEEN WAITING FOR!!"

But then he's smirking...and oh look he's doing a ritual, don't worry I bet he's just trying to contact with Viren...and OH WOW a caterpillar's crawling out of his mouth (I actually found that hot ngl)...and OMG his voice is CRAZY deep (I assumed he was mute-)...and OH MY he's the antagonist (I honestly thought he was one of the good guys)

So yeah. That's my story on what made me watch the show and how I was completely wrong about Aaravos 😃-

[tricksh0t]

★ helping hand (Hamburger Helper)

☾ jaime lannister x m reader

𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ dw about the hamburger helper its a joke

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 2.14k words

cw: handjob, frotting, spit, sub Jaime, dubcon, swearing

Jaime is stressed. Actually, Jaime Lannister is stressed, because all his troubles seem to stem from his house duties.

Jaime knew that his father, Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King, seasoned army commander, war winner, and expert at giving disappointed looks was likely to strip him of his titles and send him back to Casterly Rock to continue the family line if he so much as made a single mistake, even going as far as taking back his words of disowning him, now that his little brother, Tyrion, was a very persecuted criminal. A breeding mare, he would be, because as much as Jaime hates to think about it, he is a one-handed knight who lost his sword hand.

If there's something he has, it's his cock, and it works; but he can't say it stands proud anymore, because his secret sister-wife Cersei denies him so much as a hand and he is nothing but blisteringly loyal to her.

So here he is, sexually, emotionally and physically frustrated, without his usual duties to fulfill like flaunting his sword.

The only thing that's not Lannister about his troubles is actually Tyrell, or rather, the cocky knight his new to-be-in-laws have brought with them from Hightower to become part of the King's Guard, you.

Already, you think yourself a God not to be fucked with, the second coming of Ser Meryn Trant, not for the asshole's skill but for his arrogance and blatant discourtesy.

What you have over Ser Meryn is actual skill as a swordsman, something you are right to be proud of, if you weren't so arrogant about it. Then there's your looks.

The Tyrells and Hightower love to be pretty. Margaery is a good match for his son already, despite what Cersei says, she is pretty on the outside as well as the inside. Loras, the Knight of the Flowers, is a popular bachelor, even though he has apparent, different tastes, he knows how to use his looks to fool a girl for his house duty. Olenna, though old, still decorates herself with the finest dresses and jewelry, almost as if it is second nature to her.

Naturally, you must be pretty too. You're not a Hightower kind of pretty, though, you're handsome, more rugged, scarred. You wear the Tyrell colors, their embroidery, their style, and yet you remain in Jaime's eye different.

It's too bad you're an asshole. He might've been good friends with you.

Jaime doesn't know why he's thinking about you while he's doing this. Initially, he'd just screwed his eyes shut to try to empty his mind and think of better things.

He tries to drift his attention towards what he usually likes, another's soft hands he's proud to have kept soft; long, flowing, and wavy blonde hair, emerald green eyes; but then he finds himself thinking of you again.

Rough hands that might just feel good on him, short hair, narrowed, mocking eyes, and another mocking smile to accompany them. Then muscles beneath armor, then muscles beneath nothing, then sweat and that sword hand wrapped around your sword and then imaginatively, wrapped around his cock.

And it's getting him off.

Imagining the hand he's got around him is yours is a filthy, guilty pleasure he'll never admit to, but it only helps that it's his left hand, because it feels foreign.

"Need a hand?"

Jaime jumps. His eyes snap open and he flings his hand away, only to sloppily pull up the sheets of his bed to cover himself decently.

"Just what are you doing here?" He asks, because he knows you've heard of knocking.

Evidently, you spy on the fact he hasn't gone soft. You continue taking steps forward. "I asked you a question first."

Jaime steels his dignity to speak next, "Jerking off is a one-handed thing, I'm afraid."

"Not going to take my so very kind offer?" You only stop nearing when you get to the edge of his bed.

You look down on him like you're in some position of power over him, even though he has all levels of seniority on you, because that is how you are. Cocky and arrogant and self-entitled.

Jaime sits up, but you push him back down, placing a hand on the unlaced front of his sleeping tunic, on his chest. His weak flesh hand comes up to fight yours, clutching at your wrist. His gold-plated, heavy hand is useless, and thus though he may not surrender, he cannot push you away.

You suddenly place your other hand beside his head, making him jump pathetically, but he is unable to go elsewhere as you lean down to whisper, "Let's not pretend that you do not fancy me, Kingslayer."

Your hand plays the part of a seductress, pushing his tunic loose around the top to caress at his hairless, toned chest. A warm touch, and he was right: a rough one too, the pads of your fingers are calloused.

"You swore an oath when you joined the King's Guard."

"You did too."

Jaime clicks his tongue at your audacity, looking up at you with narrowed eyes. You only return a smirk, that damned smirk, audacious and playful.

And then the seductress trails a path down the line between his pecs, down his sternum and abdomen, slipping below the covers to do so.

Jaime doesn't fight this time, in fact he lets go of your hand, and you can tell it's because he wants it.

His narrowed eyes change expressions, from an angry glare into a look that tells you he's watching you.

They only narrow further when you lift his tunic to trail your fingers not around his cock like you know he wants it, but down his happy trail. You take your sweet time swirling the short, thick hairs around your fingers in circles, thumbing at the end of the trail and the beginning of the tactile, trimmed bush. You switch from your whole hand to two fingers, tracing down the messy, crooked trail until you're almost at the base of his length.

Jaime is about to complain about how you edge right around it, but then you're suddenly grasping the base in one full hand.

He gasps.

Rough, is his first thought. Rough because of how tough the palm of your hand is, calloused and worked, and rough because you spare him no mercy in how tight you grip him.

"Softer, ass–" Your eyes silence him, that smirk again, you're in control of his pleasure. Jaime sighs, "please."

The pleasure lighting up in your gaze brings him no pleasure, not until you move your hand and, "Shit."

He tries to keep stoic, biting his lip to keep his mouth closed. It's a fight in it of itself, one he can fight. Though he has lost his swordsmanship, he has not lost the discipline and endurance that come with it.

However, the simple motion of your hand makes him want to roll his eyes back, even though you're barely doing him any good.

Already an electric shock fires through his body. His left hand feels foreign, yes, but it is slow and the fog of pleasure forming in his mind would make it sloppy. Your hand is perfect; actually foreign, big and motivated.

Jaime hasn't been the best swordsman in Westeros in a long time, and so he finds that he is losing his patience. The sexual frustration and this very moment are evidence of it, because he finds pleasure in all of it.

When your face leaves his view, it makes his eyes refocus. He looks down at you as you lean over his cock and not take it in your mouth, but let your spit drool over it.

"Fuck."

It's a sight, the new asshole of the Red Keep pleasuring him willingly, eagerly at that.

You spread the drool over his length evenly, but then only pay attention to his tip, thumb pressing against the slit and swirling.

His hand finds the back of your neck, an outward, sudden thing through the fog of pleasure and unmediated strength. "Don't make this impersonal, at least."

"If you can sit a while, darling."

Jaime rolls his eyes, but sits back and waits.

He's seen your body before, your boundless muscles and scarce scars, but of course he hasn't seen your cock.

You don't make a show for it, but his anticipation only makes things feel slower as he watches you undress. Just the faulds and scale groin guard, and then your pants and underwear, and the wait is much too long.

He reaches out to help, but you push his hand back against the headboard roughly. Jaime scoffs, and you only laugh in turn.

"Asshole."

You take your time, and Jaime takes his to watch. He bites his lip at the sight of your V line, but he focuses more on your hairy happy trail, lets his eyes follow it down the more you expose.

Your cock slaps your abdomen when you finally free it, and Jaime has to bite back an exclamation when he sees it.

He hadn't noticed, but precum had been dripping down his length as he watched. You press the tip of your cock against it, against his, collecting and spreading the pre around the both of you.

Jaime groans.

"Is it personal now?"

"Uh-huh." Jaime huffs breathlessly, eyes glued to what you're doing to him.

You straddle his legs and slowly press your cocks together lengthwise. He has no time to dwell on the size difference, before you're wrapping your hand around the both of you at the same time.

Jaime's breaths grow to match the pace of your hand, slow for now. His eyes close.

"Jaime."

"Hm?" Lazily, they open once more, only to widen when you part his lips and keep them open with your thumb at the corner of his lip.

Drool gathers at the bottom of his mouth forcibly, and he can't do much about it, not until you tell him to spit into your hand.

With his mind truly lost now, he obeys, and you soon spit into the same hand and use the mix to continue jerking the two of you off.

It's disgusting, a mix of your spit and his that will soon be accompanied by both of your seeds.

There's a wet squelch each time your hand reaches the top again, and that's disgusting too.

It's disgusting, but a part of him feels like he's missed this. A foreign hand, a sexual partner, pleasure like he's never had before, and he could only ever want more.

It's disgusting, but it's so fucking good.

Jaime's hips buck into your hand, wanting more and only more.

You're not selfish, either. The attention you pay to his cock makes it swell all the harder. It's almost as if you're servicing him, and only him.

When you add more spit into the mess, right on the tip of his cock, he yelps. His hand reaches for your wrist, and yet it does nothing to stop you.

He can't stop the moans from spilling from his mouth anymore, a steady "uh uh uh".

The coil in the pit of his stomach turns and turns, coiling and making him clench his stomach. He's close, so very close.

More pre weeps from the tip of his cock, and you swirl your finger around the tip, spreading it around.

Jaime's eyes focus once more on the movement. He winces, "Please."

But you're an asshole and he's forgotten that.

You wrap your hand around the both of you weakly, languidly dragging it up and down your cocks. It's not enough for him, not after how mind-blowing you were, not while he knows how mind-blowing you could be.

In a spurt of determination, Jaime's hand wraps right around yours.

No longer weak, his left hand guides the movement again, rough and fast that has his reactive hips bucking in tandem too.

You're very clearly amused but he does nothing about it.

No, he's in control now, doesn't need you.

Jaime chases after his pleasure, as he deems he rightfully deserves. He uses your hand like a vessel, a puppet, just to get off.

Hips bucking, pre and spit squelching, tip swollen red; it's instinctual, animalistic, the way he chases to snap the coil in his stomach with no regard for his energy.

When Jaime finishes, it's his first in a long time, and it has his entire body going limp.

His cum washes over the both of your lengths, but he's already got his eyes closed when it does. He doesn't know when you finish, only that it's later.

"Do I get a thank you?"

Jaime opens his eyes and looks at your now clothed body, then at his cock. His spit, your spit, his cum, yours. His nose turns up.

"No."