#Im not really sure if this should go into the tag...

[charles-leclerizz]

wrong room

on the runway : lando norris x fem!reader

inspiration ( warnings ) : Smut !!! (male receiving!oral sex, (un??) protected p in v sex , light dominance, Lando being a little possessive, mutual pining, soft dom!Lando energy, swearing, teasing, light voyeuristic vibes (friends nearby), mild praise kink, overstimulation), and lots of suggestive jokes.

VIP's in the front row ( taglist ) : MUTUALS GET INSTANT TAGS [@vroomvroomcircuit, @disneyprincemuke, @verstappen-cult, @starkwlkr, @sailing-with-100-ships, @foreveralbon, @ksthegreat, @ccupcakqs]

before the show begins ( synopsis ) : What starts as a summer getaway at a friend’s villa turns into something a lot hotter when Lando walks into the wrong room - and finds you in his old hoodie, watching F1 replays. You’ve always been friendly, never close. But maybe the hoodie wasn’t the only thing you’ve been holding onto.

designer notes : well, hopefully it was worth the wait <33 . would ya'll be mad at me if I told you I haven't started chapter 3 yet? nah, cause I'm feeding you guys so well?? ok anyway, remember to wear your seatbelts. love you

The villa is carved into the hills of Côte d'Azur like a dream - terracotta tiles, arched windows, the sea glittering just beyond a blur of lemon trees and white parasols. It smells like salt, sunscreen, and freshly crushed mint. Laughter carries from somewhere deeper inside the house, floating up and over the vines crawling across the exterior walls. 

You shift your bag higher onto your shoulder and knock on the already - slightly - open door. It creaks as it swings wider. 

“Hello?” 

No answer - just music thumping softly from an unseen speaker, and the echo of distant conversation. 

You step inside. 

The marble beneath your sandals is cool. Someone’s kicked off flip - flops by the stairs. There’s a bikini drying over the back of a chair. You already know this isn’t going to be some luxury hotel - style getaway. It’s a shared house. A friend - of - a - friend kind of trip. Half of you doesn’t even remember who invited you - just that you needed the break, and this was close enough to what you craved so you said yes 

“Hey! You made it!” 

A voice - familiar - cuts through the quiet. You turn just in time to see your friend Luca come down the stairs in a pair of swim shorts and sunglasses pushed back into his curls. 

“Finally,” he grins. “You’re the last one here. Thought you bailed.” 

“I almost did.” You lift your bag with a huff. “Traffic was disgusting.” 

He helps you with your things, leads you into the living room where it smells like watermelon and something vaguely alcoholic. A few people are sprawled out on couches or clustered around the pool deck visible through the wide - open French doors. 

And then - of course - he’s there. 

Lando. 

He’s leaning back in one of the lounge chairs, a beer dangling from his fingers, legs stretched out in lazy confidence. Tan lines on his thighs, sunglasses pushed low on his nose, jaw still sharp even in the golden hour haze. He looks over when he hears your name. 

You haven’t seen him in maybe six months. You’ve never really been friends, but you’ve always hovered in the same social circle. Occasionally at the same parties, invited to the same post - race get - togethers, orbiting each other without ever really connecting. 

But now he’s looking at you like he recognizes something new. 

He nods, subtle. Gives you a half - smile. “Didn’t know you were coming.” 

You shrug. “Didn’t know you were either.” 

“Good surprise, then.” 

You’re not sure how to respond to that - so you just smile, polite, and follow Luca further inside. 

Your room’s upstairs, small but bright. There’s a ceiling fan and a tiny ensuite and just enough room to dump your suitcase across the bed without tripping over it. You unpack slowly, letting the noise of everyone else filter up through the open window. Somewhere below, Lando laughs - low and lazy - and you feel it like a fingertip dragged down your spine. 

You should be immune to him by now. He’s Lando Norris. A walking thirst trap with dimples and the most unserious sense of humour known to man. But there’s something about here - the off - duty version, the sun - drenched version, the one who isn’t surrounded by engineers or cameras - that makes it feel… different. 

Less like a boy on posters, more like a man below your window, dipping his feet into the pool. 

You shake your head and change into something breezy: cotton shorts, a crop top. When you finally go back downstairs, the sun’s just beginning to dip below the treeline, casting long shadows across the pool deck. 

People are already drinking. Someone’s pulled the Bluetooth speaker out again. There are half a dozen towels draped across every surface. 

Lando’s still by the pool. This time, he’s in the water, arms resting on the ledge, talking to someone. His wet hair curls a little at the ends. His back is freckled from the sun. You shouldn’t be looking. You are. 

He glances up just as you sit down. 

You pretend not to notice. 

Later, when you’re carrying two Aperol's back to your lounge chair, someone bumps your arm on purpose - gently, just enough to make the glasses slosh. 

“Careful.” 

You turn. 

Lando again. 

He takes one of the drinks from you before you can say anything. 

“That was for me,” you lie. 

“Too slow,” he grins, and sips. 

You narrow your eyes. “Are you always this annoying, or is it just the heat?” 

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it.” He takes another sip, gaze drifting over your legs where you’re standing in the late - day sun. 

You cross your arms over your chest, aware of how the top you're wearing hugs tighter now that it’s clung to your sun - warmed skin. 

“Is this your game? Steal drinks and flirt with every girl who makes eye contact?” 

“Only the ones who used to ignore me at parties.” 

You blink. 

“I didn’t ignore you.” 

“You never said more than two words to me.” 

“I didn’t know you,” you protest weakly. 

He smirks. “You still don’t.” 

There’s something in the way he says it - open - ended, inviting. Like he’s offering a chance. 

You roll your eyes and sit down, forcing the tension in your jaw to loosen. “You’re trouble.” 

“I try.” 

He settles into the lounge chair next to yours, shoulder brushing yours briefly before he tilts his head back to the sun again. 

The rest of the evening blurs into the kind of contented, alcohol - soft haze you only get on the second night of a trip like this - just enough comfort to start relaxing, not yet enough routine to feel bored. 

Dinner’s grilled and eaten outside. Someone plays bartender and makes the drinks far too strong. You laugh more than you expect. Lando doesn’t hover, but every time you glance over, he’s already looking. 

You should go to bed early. 

You don’t. 

You stay long enough to watch him light sparklers with a lighter he shouldn’t have, teeth catching on the cap of another beer. Stay long enough to feel the way his laugh drags across your skin from halfway across the patio. Stay long enough to admit - to yourself, at least - that maybe this time, you do want to know him. 

By the time you’re back in your room, showered and curled up on the bed with your phone in one hand and your sleep playlist in the other, you’re warm from more than just the heat. 

The last thing you see before you shut your eyes is the faint blue light of a replay clip of Lando’s onboard from Monaco. You didn’t even mean to open it. But your vague connection the world of driving means that you, just like the drivers, are addicted to watching race replays like a lullaby. You let it loop anyway - quiet, steady - as you fall asleep in a hoodie you stole from a driver party two years ago. 

You barely remember that it’s his hoodie. 

It’s hotter the next day. The kind of heat that makes everything feel heavy - time, clothes, thoughts. 

You wake up in the late afternoon, the bed tangled with your sheets and limbs, your skin still warm from the residual heat of the day before. The villa is quieter now. Most people must already be outside, and when you crack your window open, you catch the sound of a speaker playing something bassy and upbeat, mixed with the distant splash of pool water and a few hollered laughs. 

You take your time getting ready, pulling on the only clean swimsuit you packed without thinking. It’s cute, functional enough - but maybe a little revealing. Maybe not what you’d wear if you didn’t know who else would be outside. Maybe it’s stupid how long you spend in front of the mirror tugging the straps into place. 

When you finally head downstairs, the sun hits you like a wall - too much too fast, and all of it golden. The pool glimmers. Someone’s set out snacks, there’s a melting bowl of fruit beside a stack of half - read paperback books, and a cooler full of drinks wedged under the shade. 

And of course - he’s there. 

Lando. 

Lying on a towel just at the edge of the pool. Board shorts low on his hips, eyes squinting up from behind his sunglasses. He’s propped up on one arm, lazily sipping something bright orange through a paper straw. He’s laughing at something someone’s saying off to the side, curls stuck to his forehead, skin flushed just enough to tell you he’s been out here a while. 

You try not to look. You fail. 

He notices. Doesn’t say anything - just tips his chin up in a sort of wordless greeting. 

You set your towel down two chairs away. Not beside him. Not directly across. Just… within view. 

“Someone’s late to the pool party,” he calls after a moment, voice lazy from the heat. 

“I needed sleep.” 

“You needed to make a dramatic entrance, you mean.” 

You roll your eyes but smile. “You think everything’s about you.” 

“Everything is about me,” he says, deadpan. 

You stretch out on your towel, trying not to notice the way his eyes drift down your legs, then flick quickly away again when you catch him. The air feels thicker than before - or maybe it’s just your skin, suddenly too aware of every inch of exposed surface. 

Fifteen minutes later, you’re already sweating. The sun beats down mercilessly, and you sit up, digging through your bag for your sunscreen. You squirt some into your palm and reach for your shoulder - and that’s when his shadow falls across you. 

“You’ll never reach your back,” he says casually. 

One minute Lily and Kika where beside you, the next they weren’t.  

You blink up at him, “Thanks for the concern.” 

He holds out a hand. “Give it here.” 

You hesitate. Then place the bottle in his hand, trying not to think about how broad his shoulders look from this angle. He kneels behind you on the towel, the lotion cools against your overheated skin. 

His touch is… careful. Gentle at first. He smooths the sunscreen between your shoulder blades with slow, deliberate strokes, his thumbs brushing the curve of your spine before dragging back up again, just before the thin tie of your bottoms. His hands are warm and wide, fingers pressing slightly harder with each pass, until you're leaning into the sensation without even realising. 

“This, okay?” he asks, voice low - not teasing anymore, just… close. 

You nod, barely trusting your voice. 

He doesn’t stop. Works the lotion into your shoulders, your neck, fingertips grazing the strap of your swimsuit before pulling back just shy of scandal. You feel your whole - body hum, strung tight like a wire. 

And then - just as suddenly - it’s over. 

“All good,” he says, voice a little rougher than before. 

You exhale. Try to swallow. 

“Thanks.” 

He shrugs, tossing the bottle back toward your bag. “Don’t want your burning. Would ruin your dramatic entrances.” 

You laugh, light but shaky. “Wouldn’t want that.” 

You stay in the shade for most of the afternoon, half - reading a book you can’t focus on. Every time Lando walks past - dripping wet from a dive, towel slung around his shoulders, alcohol bottle in one hand - your eyes follow him before you can stop them. 

You don’t talk again. Not properly. But there’s something shifting now. You feel it in the way he looks at you longer than he should. In the way your fingers brushed his wrist earlier when he handed you a strong cocktail and didn’t pull away. In the way you can still feel his hands on your skin, hours later. 

Something’s changed. 

And you’re not sure which one of you is going to do something about it first. 

You can’t sleep. 

The villa’s quiet now - except for the creak of floorboards, the occasional pipe knocking in the wall, and the soft echo of wind sliding through open windows. Everyone else is either passed out drunk or tangled up in someone else’s sheets. The hallways feel like a lull, soaked in summer and moonlight. 

You’re curled up in bed, too warm to get under the covers, wearing nothing but the old, oversized hoodie and a faint sunburn still blooming across your thighs. You didn’t mean to put this one on - it was just at the top of your bag. Familiar, soft, slightly too big. 

Lando’s hoodie. 

You don’t even think he knows you kept it. One of those late - night party things - he tossed it to you on a balcony and never asked for it back. 

You’re not planning to see him tonight. Not thinking about the way he touched your back earlier. Not thinking about how he looked at you like he wanted to touch more. 

Your phone’s propped up on a pillow, volume low, screen lit with one of his old Silverstone onboard replays. There’s something soothing about it. The smooth rhythm of the track, the flick of the steering wheel in his gloved hands. He’s in control. Sharp. Focused.  You wonder what it’s like to make him lose that focus. 

The door creaks open. 

You sit up fast, yanking your blanket over the bottom hem of your hoodie. “What the - ” 

“Shit - ” a familiar voice mutters. “Sorry. Fuck.” 

Lando. 

He’s shirtless, in just sweats, hair a little damp like he showered but didn’t bother to dry it. His eyes are slightly wide as he sees you, as if his brain’s still catching up with what he just walked into. 

“I thought this was - ” He looks over his shoulder. “That’s not - yeah, this is definitely not my room.” 

You should say something - ask why he’s even trying to come in when most people are already knocked out for the night. 

But his eyes are stuck on your hoodie.  His hoodie.  You’re half - curled up, one leg bare up to the thigh, the hem bunched at the top of them, collar slipped low enough to show your collarbones and just a hint of skin underneath. 

“You wear that often?” he asks, voice a little hoarse. 

Your heart kicks up, fast. 

“You gave it to me.” 

“Didn’t think you kept it.” 

You shrug, hoping your face doesn’t give too much away. “Didn’t think you wanted it back.” 

He steps further into the room - slow, quiet - until he’s leaning against the inside of your door and shutting it softly behind him. 

You look at him.  He looks at you. 

Then, finally, he speaks - quiet, but direct. 

“You’re not telling me to leave.” 

You swallow. 

“Do you want me to?” you ask. 

His voice is lower now. “No.” 

You shift on the bed, pulse starting to hammer in your ears. “Then don’t.” 

He stands there for a second longer, like he’s giving you a moment to change your mind. And then he’s walking forward. 

He stands at the edge of the bed, eyes dark in the low light. One hand lift - slow, deliberate - and pulls at the blanket until he brushes your knee from where it peeks from under the hoodie. 

“You look good in that,” Lando says, voice soft, hoarse. 

You smile, lips parted. “Thought you said it wasn’t yours.” 

He huffs a quiet laugh. “Was trying to stay sane.” 

“Why?” 

He leans in, fingers tracing up your thigh, grazing higher until your breath catches. “Because if I thought about you in this hoodie too long, I’d do something stupid.” 

Your hands fist into the sheets. “Like what?” 

“Like this.” 

He kisses you hard - not rushed, but urgent. Like he’s been waiting, wanting, and now that he has you, he’s not wasting a second. You meet him halfway, fingers threading through his damp curls, hoodie riding up over your hips as he shifts between your knees and deepens the kiss. 

His hands slide up your bare thighs, slow and reverent, thumbs dragging soft circles. You gasp into his mouth when one hand cups the back of your thigh, spreading you further apart so he can settle between them. 

“Still not telling me to leave,” he murmurs against your skin, lips trailing along your jaw. 

“I’d kick your ass if you tried.” 

The room is barely lit by the faint glow of the bedside lamp. Shadows drape the corners, but the air is thick with heat - your heat, his heat - heavy enough to make every breath feel sticky and urgent. 

Lando’s sitting on the edge of the bed, bare chest rising and falling slowly, muscles tense as he watches you. The oversized hoodie you’re wearing - his hoodie - hangs loosely, but every inch of skin you show feels like a dare. 

You flip over his lap to kneel in front of him, heart hammering hard against your ribs. His cock is already hard, proud and aching beneath the loose sweats he’s left hanging low on his hips. His breath catches when you reach out, your fingers warm as they close around him over the fabric. 

“You sure about this?” he asks, voice low and rough, eyes dark and hooded with want. 

You smile, cheeks flushed and lean in closer, tugging down his waistband, “You’re the one who walked into the wrong room.” 

His hands find your hair before you can even move - gentle but insistent, threading through your curls as you lean forward, mouth parting to tease the tip of him. He groans softly, air escaping through his clenched teeth, and you know this is going to be slow, deliberate. 

You take him into your mouth, starting light - teasing with your tongue, lips barely brushing the sensitive head. His fingers tighten in your hair, nails grazing your scalp, holding you in place even as you pull back, just enough to make him desperate. 

“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy,” he rasps, his hips pressing forward instinctively. 

You hum around him, licking a slow stripe from base to tip, sucking just enough to pull a deep moan from his throat. His hands tighten, gripping the sheets as you bob your head slowly, tasting him, swallowing every hitch of breath he makes. 

When you take him deeper, your throat tightens, the stretch delicious and thrilling. He gasps, hips jerking up just a little, and you feel it - the pulse of his arousal, steady and strong. You slow down, using your tongue to circle the head, flicking the underside with precision that sends shivers through him. 

“God, you’re so good,” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper. 

His free hand slips to your waist, pulling you up close, and you wrap your arms around his thighs, holding him steady. You want to hear everything - every ragged breath, every curse falling from his lips. 

The way his hips start to grind forward against your mouth, desperate for more. 

His fingers dig into your hair, tugging lightly, and you take it as permission to go deeper - slow, steady, careful. You feel his body tense, muscles flexing as he rides the wave you’re building, his breath hitching in ragged bursts. 

When his hips jerk sharply and he releases a low growl, you swallow him down fully, holding him there as long as you can. He curses your name, gripping your hair harder, and when he pulls away, his lips are swollen, breathless. 

You look up, cheeks flushed, and meet his eyes - glazed, heavy with want and need. 

Without a word, he reaches out and pulls you to your feet, hands on your waist firm and sure. His mouth is back on yours instantly, a kiss that’s both desperate and possessive, teeth grazing your lower lip as he pulls you backward onto the bed. 

His hands roam your body with purpose, sliding beneath the hem of the hoodie, fingers finding bare skin with reverent curiosity. You arch into his touch, heart pounding as he trails kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, whispering soft promises between each press of his lips. 

He moves with slow, sure confidence, pushing the hoodie up over your head and tossing it aside like it’s been burning him all night. 

“You’re all mine,” he breathes, voice thick. 

You shiver, overwhelmed by the warmth of his hands, the heat radiating off his body as he trails down your stomach, palms flat and sure. His fingers brush the waistband of your shorts, hesitating just a second before sliding beneath. 

Every nerve ending in your body sings as he removes your shorts and panties in one smooth motion, exposing you completely. 

He kisses the inside of your thigh, lips soft and warm, fingers tracing lazy circles around your hip bones. 

When he finally parts your legs, his eyes darken, focused, hungry. 

He leans in and presses a kiss to your clit, teasing with his tongue in long, slow flicks that make you bite back a moan. 

His mouth wraps around you, warm and wet and demanding, and you clutch his hair, hips rocking forward into him without thinking. 

“Shh,” he murmurs against you, voice low and serious. “Gotta keep it down.” 

You bite your lip, nodding, desperate to keep quiet but drowning in the sensation of his tongue and mouth working magic. He hums, flicks his tongue faster, and you feel the coil tightening deep inside you. 

His hand slides between your legs, fingers teasing your entrance, brushing just the tip before pulling back to focus on your clit again. 

You’re trembling, breath coming in short, desperate gasps, hands grasping at his shoulders as he pulls you closer. 

When you come, it’s a shattered, stifled cry buried in his neck, fingers digging into his scalp as your body clenches around his mouth. 

He holds you through it, slow and steady, until you’re shuddering and soft again. 

Then, gently, he pulls back and grins up at you - wild, messy, utterly undone. 

“You taste like everything I want.” 

You laugh breathlessly and push him down, straddling him as his hands settle on your hips. 

You take your time, rolling your hips, sinking down slowly, savouring every inch. 

His hands grip your waist tight as you ride him - slow, deep, unrelenting. 

The only sounds in the room are your gasps, his moans, and skin sliding against skin. 

You lean down, kissing him hard, teeth clashing, tongues tangling as you move together - a perfect, messy rhythm. 

When he’s close, you bite his shoulder, smile against his skin, and whisper, “Not so quiet now, huh?” 

He laughs low and growls, “I’m not gonna last much longer.” 

You pick up the pace, bouncing harder, nails gripping his chest as he buries his face in your neck, fingers clutching your hips. 

And when he comes, it’s explosive - deep, guttural, his body trembling beneath you as he spills inside you. 

You ride out the waves together, panting and slick, limbs tangled. 

When it’s over, he pulls you close, pressing kisses along your jaw and whispering, “That was worth walking into the wrong room.”

The morning spills into the room like warm honey. 

Golden light streaks across the sheets, catching on dust suspended in the still air. Outside the window, someone’s already put music on too loud - something distant and summery and muffled by the thick villa walls. But in here, it’s all quiet. 

You shift under the covers, muscles pleasantly sore, skin warm from where Lando’s body presses into yours. He’s still half - asleep, one arm flung over your stomach, curls mussed against the pillow. You breathe him in sunscreen and sweat, salt and something softer. Like linen and heat. 

His hand tightens slightly at your waist, thumb brushing absentmindedly against your hip bone. It’s the kind of touch that says he's still here, even in his sleep. 

You turn toward him, nose brushing his jaw. 

“Lando,” you whisper, low and quiet, just to see if he’s awake. 

Lando hums sleepily as you kiss his chin. “Mmm, you’re up early.” 

“Not really,” you mumble. “I think it’s nearly noon.” 

He groans. “We should hide. Stay in here all day.” 

You smile. “You drooled on my pillow.” 

He growls softly, burying his face in your neck. “Could be worse. Could’ve been your chest.” 

You laugh, legs tangling with his. “You’re disgusting.” 

“Last night you said I was talented.” 

“I said you were decent.” 

He grins sleepily against your skin, voice still thick. “You came twice. At least give me ‘skilled.’” 

You roll your eyes, trying not to smile too hard - but you’re glowing, skin flushed from more than just the heat. 

His hand slips lower, resting over the swell of your ass, fingers tracing lazy shapes again. You’re not doing anything, not going anywhere. It’s rare - to feel like this. Not just satisfied but settled. 

Until -  

“OH MY GOD.” 

The door slams open, and you flinch, instinctively yanking the blanket up to your chin. 

Lando groans so loudly it’s borderline feral. “No. Nope. Out.” 

Oscar is standing in the doorway, already in swim trunks and a bucket hat, holding a protein shake in one hand like a fucking trophy. Squinting into the light like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. 

“I KNEW IT,” he yells, pointing at you both. “Fifty bucks, bitches!” 

You blink, dazed. “What - ?” 

“I told Lily it would happen before the weekend was over,” Oscar continues, stepping just one inch further into the room like he’s inspecting evidence. “She said you’d pussy out. Guess who was right.” 

You blink. “Wait, you two - bet on us?” 

Oscar shrugs. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And then you started wearing that hoodie again. It was obvious.” 

Lando rolls over and shoves a pillow over his head. “Oscar I swear to God - ” 

“Hey, don’t blame me, you could’ve been subtle. But noooo, you had to be all hoodie and eye fucking by the pool.” 

You groan. “How long were people watching us?” 

Oscar snorts. “We have eyes.“ 

“Congrats, by the way,” he says, like he’s handing out a wedding gift. It’s when he sips at his gym bottle and hisses, you realise there’s probably tequila in there, “Try not to traumatize the maid staff.” 

And then he’s gone. 

The door clicks shut again. 

Silence. 

You both stare at the ceiling for a second before bursting into laughter. 

Lando turns toward you, dragging you under him again, smirking like an idiot. “We are never living this down” 

“I kinda don’t care” 

He hums, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You gonna wear that hoodie again?” 

You grin. “Only if I want everyone to know what I let you do to me last night.” 

He pauses. Smirks. 

“Bold of you to assume I’m not wearing it next.” 

You shove him lightly, laughing, as he tackles you back into the sheets, messy and warm and unbothered - a little wrecked, a little teased, and a whole lot in trouble. 

But somehow, it feels kind of perfect. 

meet the models after the show ( epilogue ) :

It’s the last morning at the villa. 

People are packing. Doors opening, zippers skimming across tile. Half - melted iced coffees line the kitchen counter, and someone’s already yelling about who stole their charger. 

You’re still in Lando’s bed. 

Still in his hoodie. 

Still not ready to move. 

He walks back into the room with two mugs in hand - both his. One is basic ceramic with your initials scratched in red nail polish. The other says World’s Fastest Slut in hideous bubble font. 

He doesn’t even flinch when he hands you that one. 

“You’re really still wearing that thing?” he says, nodding to the hoodie swallowing your frame. 

You raise an eyebrow and sip your coffee. “You say that like you weren’t staring every time I wore it.” 

He shrugs, dropping onto the bed beside you. “Just surprised you never took it off.” 

You smirk. “Why would I? It’s comfy. Smells good. Annoys Oscar.” 

“Ah,” he nods, mock serious. “You stayed in my hoodie out of spite.” 

You hum. “Mostly. Partially because it makes my legs look good.” 

His gaze drags down. “Can confirm.” 

You blink. “You gonna tell Oscar that ?” 

“Absolutely not. He’s been insufferable since he ‘won’ a bet that didn’t exist.” 

You laugh, and he leans forward, catching your chin gently with his fingers. You try not to smile, but he leans forward and nudges your knee with his. 

“You’re still coming back to mine after this, right?” he asks, casual, but his tone softens halfway through. 

You blink. “Did I say I was?” 

He gives you that look - head tilted, lashes low, mouth twitching like he’s holding back something cocky. “You didn’t have to.” 

You take another slow sip of coffee. “Hmm. That so?” 

He leans in closer, fingers brushing the hem of the hoodie as he murmurs, “Only condition is… if you keep stealing my clothes, I get to start stealing your time.” 

You snort. “That was corny as hell.” 

“Did it work?” 

You meet his eyes, and yeah - it did. 

You set the mug down and pull him toward you, letting him kiss you slow, like the world isn’t about to start moving again. His hand curls over your thigh, his smile warm against your lips. 

When he pulls back, you sigh into his shoulder. “Okay. Fine. I’ll come back with you.” 

“Knew it,” he says smugly. 

“On one condition,” you add. 

He raises a brow. 

“I keep the hoodie.” 

Lando grins, eyes half - lidded. “Deal.” 

You settle back into the bed, sun rising behind you, the sound of car engines and goodbyes faint in the background. But here, it’s just him. You. And the hoodie you’re never giving back. 

[muffinrecord]

Updates! YouTube Stuff

Howdy folks! Just a few updates for the youtube channel

Videos Names

Short and quick-- I ended up changing the name of the sprite animation videos into battle animation videos. I was thinking of calling them "Sprite Animations, Magia, and Doppel" but that felt too long.

To be honest, the videos don't get a lot of views or engagement-- which is fine. I think that archiving them is worth it, and I don't think these are the kind of things people will watch over and over? But I do wonder if they're not viewed as much because people might think that they are only sprite attacks and not magia and doppels and stuff. I'm kind of hoping that "Battle Animations" will clear things up, because I don't wanna add the "Magia and Doppels" part to it.

If it doesn't, then I'll leave it as is. It's a little sad if they're lesser viewed but that's fine ultimately.

TO BE CLEAR THIS IS NOT ME BITCHING ABOUT VIEWS, I WOULD STILL DO THIS EVEN IF THEY GOT LIKE 5 VIEWS IN TOTAL. Just, more that I was thinking that maybe I'm not being very clear about what's in them? ANYWAYS

Recordings

So! I've been trying to finish up my animation project so that I can devote my time and energy to other things~

This is how much is left to record! Naturally a lot of the collab girls are kind of. Well it's going to be a bit.

Chisato and Haruka are giving me pause. When I started recording about two years ago (and then deleted all the files and started over and then deleted them all gain and started over again), I kinda assumed that Suzune would get a rerun, and I could nab those two and easily record their non max-ascended forms but uh. Not sure if that'll ever happen? I'm wondering if I should just record them regardless and release an updated version if we ever get a banner for them again. Lots to think about.

Meanwhile, the above is a short screenshot of how many I've completed. Yeah... 194..... This isn't including the girls who still need to be uncapped either. My computer has more space now, it's amazing to move them permanently to the backup now.

These are all the ones that have completed recordings that still need to be edited and uploaded:

Editing doesn't take too long, it's just that my computer slows down and it starts to take a long time when you have like tens of them to do. But I'm starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel! ...Still need to record a bunch, but I have lots of queue so things should be fine.

I kind of wish I had done some things differently, but oh well. When it comes to my channel, I feel like... well, you don't really get quality, but you do get quantity. Even if that's not technically as good, I think there is still value in it. idk.

Thumbnails

My stupid ass was looking at the channel and decided to redo a bunch of thumbs, and hey did you know that there is a 100 limit on how many thumbnails you can upload in a day? Sucks man.

Anyways, the transformation thumbnails are mostly updated and I just have about fifty left to upload now:

A while ago I started to make the characters' names a few pixels larger than the rest of the text, and it's been bothering me for a while that some vids had the bigger text and other vids didn't, so uhhh. Yeah. I also ended up changing a bunch of thumbs so that they show the end shot. Is that the better choice...? I'm not sure. I think it might make the thumbs more boring, but I think it's also more upfront about the fact that they're transformation videos.

More importantly, I also decided to redo the battle animations thumbs!

At first it was because I wanted to put "battle animations" in the thumb but I ended up deciding that plain old "animations" looks better. So why am I still changing all of them? Well...

I'm super honored that my stupid lil channel is getting used for the gallery section for the girls! See here on the fandom wiki. But then I was looking at it and man, that thumbnail sure does look fucking ugly when it's all blown up in your face like that. And if people are gonna use my stuff (🥺), I'd at least like it to look nice on their site...?

So I'm using the sprites from the magireco sprite viewer (rip), although unfortunately it's missing some/doesn't have new stuff/won't be updating anymore. But at least some of the new sprites will look better.

I know how to get some stuff off of Rika.Ren for datamining-ish, but sprites aren't one of them, and tbh I'm kind of not interesting in learning new things atm. So stealing off the Puella Magi Wiki is the best we'll get. But still! Older videos will have better thumbs. And oh man, some of them were ugly as fuck.

...I still need to make uhhh 200 more of them ish but I'll work on that tonight.

Playlists

Much to my displeasure, the results for the poll I made pointed towards folks deciding that more videos in a playlist is better, so I'm redoing all the playlists I had foolishly trimmed (this is also how I noticed some thumbnail problems and then got obsessively focused on fixing them last night instead of the playlists).

A couple of playlists still need to be redone-- I basically deleted everything in them, 'cause it's easier to just start over instead of dragging things around (especially when you get past 100, as it'll stutter and boot you to a different place). But I'm slowly getting there, and they should all be back up by tonight? The Madoka one will take the longest I think; that was easily 150+ videos if I recall correctly.

I also put all the battle animation videos currently uploaded into the battle animation videos playlist.

Originally I was trying to upload the videos in order of release, to make it easier on myself when putting it into the playlist. But that was kind of frustrating, especially when I had already released some out of order and then you factor in holidays... So fuck it! They're all in there now, even if they're private.

This is what you see when you're not on my channel (and you select to see hidden videos). Woops. Oh well!

But this means I'm more willing to go out of order in the uploads :)

Conclusion

I really wanted to get this all wrapped up so I can start to move on to other things! Like, ya know, my webcomic project. And also liveblogs!

Oh speaking of which... wait maybe I should make it a separate update... hmmmm. Yeah I'll do that.

Anyways, yeah! It'll be nice once I no longer need to upload a video every day, but it's also not too bad. I'm just glad I have a huge amount of queue, which'll give me time to look for some of the older collab characters. I'm not entirely sure how I'll film their little poke animations... Maybe I'll have to ask around, or perhaps use the kyugay sprite site? I have no idea how to record my screen. Ah man.

But I think the channel is heading towards a decent place, and I'm excited to finish everything up :)

Hope y'all aren't too bothered by the spam of videos! It's gonna be a couple more months at least....

[anbaisai]

mermay means the perfect opportunity for me to expand upon the mayu secret third leech sibling au from a while back (why is this becoming a real AU)

[plagueislost]

yes i spent $60 on a tim drake robin compendium. no i do not regret it. no further questions please.

[brodyfoxxsmassivetits]

meant to work on literally anything but instead drew a dubiously shmibibically accurate angle Eduardo.. sure whatev

strange creature... strange weeping.. sad... grieving creature

idk why he's like that I just draw

[oh-no-its-bird]

On top of everything else that's happened in the last month or so

(girlfriend breaking up with me / me running off in the night w the friend I was supposed to be maid of honor with bc her (now ex) fiance came home drunk and scared us, while ofc we also both were in swimsuits and had like NO money or even shoes due to incredibly poor timing / Getting stuck in Dallas for TWO MONTHS longer than I meant to be due to bullshit work transfer systems (and admitedly my own inability to remember that deadlines exist) / that same friend going BACK to her shit boyfriend alone to a city 4 hours away from anyone she may call for help if things go wrong / me now no longer having a place in dallas to stay for these next 2 months bc I was SUPPOSED to stay with that friend but her bastard boyfriend doesn't want me in his house anymore bc he knows I'd tell his girlfriend to dump his ass)

I have now lost my fucking house keys.

Anyways I may or may not be way less active for a bit so this is the formal apology and explanation for that. Sorry guys, we are NOT going back to ur normally scheduled rapid fire ninja content as promised for like. A minute. Possibly. We'll see. Sometimes my own motivation wave surprises me.

Tbh it's my own fault for daring to become a fanfic author tbh. Should have known the "sorry I didn't update, my house burned down teehee <3" curse would come for my ass

[biblically-accurate-dca]

au where moon fills in while sun is "on vacation" and nothing bad happens

[this-is-a-name-dont-worry]

pride episode where there's a pride parade in Danville and the boys decide to participate with their friends but Buford is confused about what any of the flags and labels mean. So after he asks the other what the trans flag is and they explain, he's like "I don't get it, everyone wants to be a girl",

"I don't. What about you, Ferb?"

"I don't really think about it much."

"Yeah I don't either."

"And I really don't want to be a boy."

"Wait so none of you guys want to be a girl sometimes?"

"No."

"Already am!"

The A plot is the gang making fun Pride stuff with Buford's gender identity crisis going on in the background (he likes being a girl, but he ALSO likes being a boy!! sometimes it feels better to be one and sometimes it feels better to be the other!! he doesn't get it, he has to try everything in the most stereotypical way and make a tally to see which one he prefers!)

Meanwhile, Perry arrives at Doofenschmirtz Evil Inc., but Doof tells him there's no evil plan this time, because Vanessa amd his ex wife told him about this Pride Month thing and apparently today is Danville's Pride Parade and Vanessa said she's going with some friends. And because he's trying to be more involved in her hobbies, he asked if he could participate, and Vanessa told him that sure, they could meet up at some points and do a part of it together. So he decided to build a chariot because he knows that in every Danville's parade there are chariots, but the issue is that he has no idea what a Pride Parade is, and doesn't even understand what Pride Month is, so he had to improvise. At first he wanted to make a sculpture of everything he was proud of but it looked like shit, so instead he decided to focus on one thing and did two birds one stone; he'll make his chariot about Vanessa, because he's proud of her, and she can be proud of herself too!

Perry knows exactly what Pride is and that Doof is misunderstanding the whole thing, but he gladly accepts to help. Then Vanessa arrives and gets upset when she sees the final product that's all about her.

She's not going to the Parade for herself, but for her friends, and the chariot is like. Going to a friend's birthday party, but then the cake and decorations are shaped like your face. Perry tries to comfort her, and Doof feels bad.

For Candace's plot, she is stressing out because she volunteered to give water and food to the attendees when they pass by, thinking that it's ok because she'd get to hang out with her friends or Jeremy, but it turns out they all participate at the Parade, and not even Jeremy invited her, so she starts wondering if she was a bad friend or did something wrong that made them not want her to accompany them. And also not want them to answer her calls. She starts overcorrecting herself about everything, worried she'd look like a bad ally, and it becomes ridiculous.

At the end the chariot has been slightly remade to be about Vanessa and her friends (that or about doof, perry, vanessa, and norm, becoming really Heinz's chariot, im not sure), and Candace gets comforted by everyone that it was ok, it's just that they knew she already had something else going on and had planned to stop when they reached her. They couldn't hear their phones in the crowd, and they're sorry for not thinking about telling her.

For the A plot?

"So Buford, how is your identity crisis going?"

"Meh, I've decided to not think about it for now. I'm like, 11, I've got plenty of time to figure it out later."

"Well when you do, we'll be happy to help!"

"Thanks guys."

and then idk we have a joke that confirms a sexuality or gender that takes people by surprise to finish it all off

[hexados-on-a-string]

made a few memes that i. personally. think are funny. and also to cope with not being able to draw rn.

bonus!!:

[beatcroc]

pest control TWO!!!!! heres the first one

adn heres the obligatory bonus bc i can't help myself :')

[pocketramblr]

Absolutely love your writing for all the AU/5 headcanons asks. Can I ask: AU where Rei cheats on Endeavor with All Might? It happens after AM's injury, so she doesn't recognize him, and he ofc doesn't know that she's married in the first place, much less to whom

you make this very difficult for me by giving me a window of 6 and half years for them to have an affair and for every single moment of that window, Rei is institutionalized. how am i supposed to get them to meet, much less take their clothes off. ok. think. there are other fic writers who specialize in this kind of thing, surely. what would they do....

1- ok so. The fire alarm at the hospital goes off. Rei doesn't know if it's a drill or not, but she's been there for seven years and generally does not need a lot of support during something like this like other patients do, so the nurses wave her out and she stands around outside a bit waiting for the fire alarm to stop and them to go back in. (It isn't a drill, they wouldn't have evacuated everyone if it was, but Rei is on the other side of the building and facing away from seeing any smoke) (This smoke is from a villain attack that All Might is taking care of, though he's only got seconds left of his power to use that day. he quickly rushes off, deflating and stumbling out on the other side of the hospital. Where Rei is.)

2- Rei is like "huh that guy doesnt seem to be in good shape" and kinda waves attention at him, and a nurse who's passing out water to patients and keeping an eye on the road gives Toshinori some too, getting more concerned when he dazedly answers that he's All Might and coughs up blood, but the nurse figures he's concussed since he smells of smoke and must have been closer to the fight, and is just reeling from being able to see the number one hero in person. Then they get distracted and wave Toshi to wait nearby, where Rei offers to chill his water and asks if he's alright, if he breathed in any smoke.

3- They chat and then go back into the hospital as it's un-evacuated together, Rei hanging out in the lobby where he sits as the hospital staff focus on getting everyone else back to their rooms. It pays to be low priority sometimes. Eventually she tells him her name is Rei and that she's in room K18, if he ever wants to visit or call. She doesn't get to talk to anyone except doctors, family visitors, or other paitients, and most of them don't stay nearly as long as she does. It's been seven years, and she's very lonely. Toshinori is lonely too, and when he's out of time for a day and feeling useless with nothing to do, he likes to talk to a friend.

4- Rei has been in the hospital for eight years when it gets physical. At that point, Toshinori knows a bit about her family. She has kids, mentions visits from a son and daughter, and then quietly mentioned when her son turned seventeen- her daughter's already twenty. She's been there for so much of their lives. He asks if she's married, and she admits she isn't sure how to file for divorce in a hospital like she is, if she even can, if she wants to because she'd lose custody, if it matters when she's not raising them anyway. He doesn't ask much more, knows there is a dead child and a baby she says isn't safe with her there. Toshinori never called Nana 'mom' to her face while she was alive, and had a reason for it, and has a similar reason for not asking more, not asking for the other names when he gets Fuyumi and Natsuo's. Yes, the doctors and nurses all know Rei has a boyfriend who visits. they don't say anything. who would they even tell, anyway. I debated the humor of reusing the bit from candlelight shoto that Toshi and Rei could have a kid with a fire quirk, but yeah here? Rei ain't getting pregnant, absolutely not.

5- When Natsuo turns eighteen, Rei does actually file for divorce, or at least tries to get the ball rolling on that. Toshinori's trusted her that her marriage is over in all but name, but he's more at ease with it ended fully. Fuyumi is crushed but burying it all deep inside. Natsuo is like 'what are you talking about. divorce is the most normal possible outcome here.' But anyway, Rei also begins to bring up being discharged- something she never bothered with earlier, when it seemed like she'd never be able to go home while Shoto was there, and never would want to go back anyway. (Her parents are absolutely not an option either so where would she go once discharged? the hospital was her only security.) Toshinori then tells her at this point about his diagnosis, that he's supposed to be terminal, in a way. He doesn't have a lot of time he can give her. Rei says that's ok, she'll take what she can get. She moves in. Fuyumi still goes out to eat with her once a week, though Rei doesn't say she's moved in with a boyfriend, just says she's in a safe place and it's not Fuyumi's job to worry about it, please, let her do that, relax, be her daughter instead of a mother. Natsuo adds her to his cellphone plan and gets her one. Rei doesn't tell Toshinori her ex's identity. Toshinori doesn't tell her about OfA, though she does know he's mentoring a student for heroics and is very proud of him. (Toshinori is a secretary at Might Tower, he's a great mentor. Oh huh, he got a job position at UA at the same time as All Might, she wonders if they carpool.)

+1- OK THE REVEAL so the reveal is. Toshinori gets home from the SF. And Rei almost knocks him out by the door, eyes wide and panicked, asking if he's ok, if Shoto's ok. Toshinori is like "... young todoroki? yeah he's alright? i know his fight with young bakugo looked bad but- Rei???" And that's when it all clicks for him, he's having dozens of horrible realizations at once, all while Rei weeps over her youngest. Toshinori's been a hero for a very, very long time. He's felt hopeless, before. But even then, he's known what needs to be done, he just isn't able to do it. But now? he's at a complete loss with no idea what he should do.

[st4rstudent]

Various other one-sided swap doodles inspired by oomfs comments

[oifaaa]

My mother sure does like to claim she doesn't have favourites but considering my two sisters are currently in Spain with her and she gifted my older brother a whole ass house I'm beginning to have my doubts

[itissadbutitsmy-life]

listen I just can’t find fault with a candy person for finding something that unexpectedly brings them joy and doing everything in their power to make it keep happening. I just can’t find it in me to blame them for wanting the approval of the person they love and respect more than anyone else, and wanting that approval over and over again, and I just straight up can’t blame james for figuring out a trick to make his princess smile and call him her hero. like, banana guards get her praise and approval and hugs all the time, but he’s just some random engineer with an easy smile and no one who wants to hang out with him after work. and she likes him so much, she wants him in her kingdom, even when he goes and does something stupid like push her out of the way of a super dangerous not-moving car, at the cost of his own life, she wants him back and she’ll bring him back and she'll tell him that was very brave and she loves him. of course she loves him. she loves all the candy people. but he figured out how to make her look him in the eyes and say it and give him material evidence of her pride. I can’t find it in myself to blame him for that. it wasn't good, i don't think he should have been left unchecked to keep going forever, but i can't blame him for wanting to keep reliving the nice thing that happened once. the really nice thing that happened once that came with material gifts. if she didn’t want to keep doing it she would’ve stopped LONG before there were TWENTY FIVE of them. before she was so fed up that she didn’t even spare him a kind goodbye or a chance to go home one more time.

like you’re not beating the dystopian dictatorship allegations. saying she was right to exile him from the only home he’s ever known with no recourse because he was acting weird. and the thing is, I just can’t find it in me to blame a character living in a dictatorship for getting himself into a situation because he was desperately trying to be happy the best way he could figure out how. I’m not saying he was right, he’s insane, but it just rubs me wrong, the idea that he is the one holding all this heavy blame. the idea that the princess is right to look down at him and shake her head firmly and turn him out in the cold. for chasing the rush that she gave him willingly, over and over, without any specific end parameters. for not being able to make friends, and doing something weird about it. he’s bored and lonely and this works and it’s not, inherently, bad. it really isn’t. it’s batshit, but it’s actually not hurting anyone at all.

[saisons-en-enfer]

It's alright... these hearts were built to fight

So why are you wasting? bring yourself to light

[moliathh]

This had been irking me so i have to say it. I know Hellsing is a horror media with a LOT of flashy action scene, however, it is unjust to see it as solely gore and fights. I've seen complaints about how adding a "romance" in will reduce the quality of the story as an "action horror". (specifically speaking is between Alucard and Integra because of course in the end of the day this is just ship war, not a serious discussion whatsoever) I would argue that Hellsing is never ONLY about the actions. Yall might have already noticed how Alucard is too OP, and it was not even because he got any tricks up his sleeves. He is simply invincible, his mechanism is just that hes a "deus ex machina". He did NAWT need to start out with zero and levelling up like your common action anime protagonist. It's not a first time a central character is overpowered in an unreasonable way. A way you could interpret this trope is that it was not about battles, not the physcial one, but the development in their characteristic, their thoughts and emotions and ideology all that stuffs. A classic example is Sir Gawain and The Green Knight (TGK), where all of their (physical) battles are nonsense and did not mean anything in terms of combat, they dont even fight each other, even the climax (the decapitation of TGK) was dismissed into a looney tunes moment. BECAUSE OF COURSE IT WAS NEVER ABOUT THE BATTLE NOR PHYSICAL DEVELOPMENT, it was the internal struggle and maturing in character. THAT is what's happening in Hellsing IF yall look pass the very flashy facade of gore scenes Hirano put up. READ BETWEEN THE LINES, because he's not gonna hand it out to you on a plate. If you want to see how each character developed you have to look closely at their reactions and dialogues, not how they fight.

SO, imo, it's reducing the quality and message of Hellsing to interpret it solely as an action horror media, not the other way around. AND MIND YOU, romance subplot and action horror can coexist. For what does the character fight? A higher ideal? Power? Fun? Love? All that is noteworthy to think about when you engage in a media display many fight scenes. DONT YOU WANNA KNOW WHY THEY FIGHT THAT HARD ???? and in this case it is VERY obvious that Alucard is motivated by Integra. LIKE it cant be more obvious

And I'm so tired of seeing "Alucard only listen to Integra because of the seal and shes a Hellsing". Bestie, he literally ripped Richard's hand off, we dont even know the extent of the seal, like how far? or can it REALLY control Alucard? Besides, if you have read The Dawn you would see what a damn lazy ass Alucard was, Arthur sent him on a mission and he didn't even bother to walk on his own and just sleep safe and sound in his coffin until he felt like waking up??? Compare that to his enthusiasm to beg Integra on four just for her order and even purposefully tick her off by asking about her enthusiasm for war, oh and did we collectively forget this

(This is the Dark Horse eng scan if i remember correctly? i might be mistaken idk)

Sure it could just be a mere parallel, "The woman he personally desired" might only means Mina Harker and not directly Integra herself, I see. But, why bother choosing this parallel, and RIGHT after this panel he went STRAIGHT to Integra to ask for her order.

You know how enthusiastic he is with a fight and everything was already laid before him, worthy enemies and all. Yet he would not act without her words? I did not see him needing permission before ripping Richard's hand off... Also the seal did NAWT ask him to do all this

There are more of his sickening and excessive display of obedience but i don't have time to pull the panels out yet, but we all know its there since Alucard's submissive attitude and Integra's bossy demeanour is one of their most appealing traits, I know, because it is literally one of the BIGGEST selling points and running joke of the fandom, funnyyyy how people always love to call Alucard a sub and use words such as "freaky" and "slutty" to call him as if he didn't reserved this treatment for ONLY Integra. Sure Integra is a demanding boss to even her enemies, and it works like wonder everytime, because she's Integra, she mastered Alucard, others are just piece of cake to her. But that's not the same case with Alucard. Major literally said "She is the only authority Alucard recognizes". And have Alucard extended the phrase "My master" and all the begging and insinuating jokes to anyone else? It's so convenient isnt it, to just take one specific trait of Alucard's personality and make it his entire character without considering to WHO he directed those innuendos to.

Oh and I haven't walk us to the final chapter yet, like the seal did NAWWWWWTTT asked him to call her "Countess" (or Count, depending on the translators) and literally he could accept his death becoming a paradox? Wasn't Alucard had been craving an end for a long while now? Why the need to return just because Integra asked him to??? Be serious for a moment here

Also a personal interpretation of mine that could be a stretch or just pure delulu is that, in the manga AND the anime adaptation, the last word Alucard said after goodbye is "Integra" (In both Japanese and English dub, the word order is exactly the same), not "Master" or "Integra HELLSING". The same goes when he addressed how he can kill without remorse but the decision is in her hand, he also said "I am a monster, now regarding you, Integra". To me that is an indicator for how he CARED for her not just because she's a Hellsing or his master but she's Integra, from the first of their meeting it was very clear, that Alucard wounded A HELLSING to protect Integra.

So... even non-romantically, you cannot deny that Alucard voluntarily worked for Integra. They DO care about each other a lot, even platonically, their bond is almost like soulmates with how well they trust and understand each other. I just don't like it when people keep side-stepping the depth of their relationship just because you don't like to ship them romantically. These are the canon informations you can't just seriously unironically say that there was nothing there.

And oh don't even get me started on the "But he is a vampire, the enemy of her family and he hates Hellsing because of Abraham something something stockholm syndrome something she's ace coded she's lesbian coded she swore to be a virgin until death she wouldnt throw it away for the enemy of her family etcera etcera" you're saying it as if ace people aren't allowed to date or have sex and you're saying it as if Alucard isn't canonically genderfluid. Why always view the ship as solely heteronormative while they were never conventional to begin with. And MIND YOU, i thought everyone love the enemies to lovers trope?? they were BARELY stockholm syndrome at all did we forget about the Bird of Hermes analogy as a metaphor for loyalty voluntarily given.

If you care so much about "monsters and humans are forbidden" and "they are not canon" maybe treat every ship with the same attitude since MOST of hellsing most popular ships fit into that exact two sentences above, maybe except Pip x Seras is canon, but they're also human x monster, so what now???? Just hate on a ship all you like, I hate ships too and I hate them because I don't like them, that's all, no need to do extra mental gymnastic to prove the ship is "wrong" or their shippers are "wrong".