#lawpinto

post-fic snippet from the 'hamartia' landoscar verse

“I’m okay, I’m okay… they’re okay?” 

Liam clutches at his chest, breath heaving through him. The pounding of his heart is a relentless gong in his ears, its pulse vibrating through his limbs until his fingertips tingle and ache.

He tries to reach his perceptions outside of his own mind. Pushing his magic out past his panic, sweeping over Jack and Francos minds with careful reverence and a gentle brush, feather soft.

Jack is still deep in sleep, his dreams tinged with violet melancholy. Liam lingers briefly, noting the faint stress lingering in the dreamscape, but decides not to intrude. Jack’s soft snores break the silence—a soothing, rhythmic white noise that anchors Liam to the present. Whatever worries Jack, it’s better left in the safety of his dreams.

Franco’s mind, on the other hand, is a riot of sharp thoughts and tangled emotions. He’s awake, lying perfectly still, likely giving Liam the space he thinks he needs.

Liam reaches out a hand, it lands on Franco’s bare shoulder and squeezes.  It’s enough of a signal for Franco to sit up, the covers pooling around his waist as he leans into Liam’s side. His hand presses against Liam’s chest, resting over the rapid pulse of his heart.

“What did you see?” Franco’s voice is low, steady, laced with concern. They know better than to ignore the warnings that manifest in his subconscious now. Experience has taught them to listen—to take the warnings they bring seriously.

Liam shakes his head, the movement sharp in the dim room.

Franco flicks his fingers, conjuring a faint, golden light that floats between them. It casts their faces in a warm glow, illuminating the dark circles under Liam’s eyes and the tear tracks glistening on his cheeks. The illusion is simple, almost instinctual, and it doesn’t disturb Jack, whose own gifts render it invisible to his sleeping mind.

“It’s not…” Liam huffs, scrubbing at his cheeks with trembling hands. “Fuck, it wasn’t just a dream. I don’t think.”

Franco mutters something soft in Spanish, leaning in to brush away a tear Liam missed near his jaw. His voice is gentle but insistent. “Are you sure, chiquito? We could wake Jack… or the others?”

“No.” Liam’s voice wavers, but he shakes his head firmly. “Oscar needs rest. They all need sleep. It’s just—” He pauses, swallowing thickly. “It’s just stress.”

Fear, his mind supplies instead like a betrayal. His chest rises sharply under Franco’s hand, the rapid rhythm of his heart refusing to settle. Franco’s palm glows faintly, magic seeping into Liam’s skin like a balm, and slowly, the chaotic beat begins to steady.

“It’s like I relived it all again,” Liam finally murmurs, his voice hoarse. “That day… It wasn’t the future. It was the past. But I—” His throat clicks as another sob threatens to break free. “I was everyone at once. I could feel everything. It’s like I was Lando, looking back at us.”

Franco’s eyes widen, the golden light reflecting off the rich brown of his irises, now glistening with grief. “You were in his head?”

“A bet?” Liam parrots, pulling his legs up onto the chair, knees tucked to his chest. The chat explodes between a barrage of messages chanting ‘ bet, bet, bet ’ and a few complaining about his legs blocking the view. “Yes, a bet. You prove you’re sexy enough to beat me, and I’ll have you on my stream.” Franco’s tone is so cocky and confident, the kind of swagger only someone who gets fucked on camera regularly can pull off.

Liam Lawson / Multi-Ship, explicit, multi-chap ongoing

Tags: grindr!au, taking bets and taking dick, alternate universe - not racing drivers (formula 1 RPF), porn with plot, size kink

find the prompt list here!

“Tell me about Mars.”

The words crackle through the speaker by Franco’s ear, pulling his attention. He turns his head, frowning. Treasure Planet lies open on the data pad in his lap, where he’s been reading out loud for the past hour. The unexpected request gives him pause.

Life on the Mars colony had always been shrouded in secrecy for centuries, ever since its colonization in the late 22nd century. He can almost hear his mother’s scolding voice warning him against even thinking about discussing it in the open corridors of the ship.

“Perhaps…” The voice belongs to George, his hand pressed against the data terminal. “You could humour Ensign Lawson. The oxygen levels are depleting faster than expected. Keeping him calm would be… optimal.”