#8274

[every-tome]

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。12:06 AM — SAMPO KOSKI.

notes: friends/acquaintances to lovers, mutual pining but seemingly unrequited love, confessions (kind of lol), happy ending !!, not proof read and also idek if it’s in character but idk i just want to kiss him but he’s also rly punchable so we had to work with that okay

sampo is a bit shameless—it’s what anyone would tell you. personally, you would have to agree.

“so,” he drawls, “how about it, huh? you, me, a fancy little date—”

“no,” you interrupt—it’s immediate, your response, it comes through grit teeth. “you can forget it.”

“alright, alright,” he raises his hands in surrender, “no need to get all aggressive. the sampo koski will change your mind soon enough.”

you’ve lost count how many times he’s asked you this same question. maybe it’s admirable—the way he’s so persistent. maybe it’s dangerous—the way he always gets what he’s after. most people describe sampo koski as an added headache to the already difficult life of the underworld. he’s a bit too lively for his own good, you think. but you’d describe him as pretty words and perfect teeth and cologne that makes your head spin.

you hate it.

“there won’t be any mind changing,” you say promptly.

“oh, c’mon,” he insists, voice effortlessly honeyed and so painfully alluring. “what’s the worst that could happen, huh? we have a good time?” his lips curl into that smile if his. you swallow and look away.

a lot, you want to say. the worst that can happen is a lot.

and it’s easy, you think—to reach over and fix that strand of hair that’s fallen to the wrong side of his face. it’s easy to bump shoulders with him or turn and brush your noses together and feel his hot breath as he exhales.

but that would be toying with overstepping dangerous boundaries, boundaries that are very much set in place by yourself for your own sake. sampo has saved you one too many times from a hard spot—but he’s always managed to disappear just when you think he’s reliable too. he’s too good at bending things in his favor, a little too good at getting what he wants out of everything.

it’s not hard to think what he wants from you—and it’s not hard to imagine him disappearing once again once he’s got it. the difference is you think this time…well, you think this time might just crush you.

“sampo, do you want me to punch you?” you huff, crossing your arms.

it’s late. you’re not sure why he’s gone out of his way to walk you home, but he does and you’re a tad bit grateful. you’d rather not run into a vagrant on your way—and if you do, that’s happily sampo’s problem now.

there’s something about it, about the way he’s dedicated only when there’s something to gain out of it, about the way he’s so sweet and charming as he butters you up with his actions, about the way his smile is gentle around the corners just perfectly to crack your resolve.

he’s so good at what he does—and so painfully bad for your heart. your poor, fragile heart that’s so carefully locked away from his awaiting hand. you think to give it to him would be to hand the devil your soul and trust it’s safety.

you’re not so foolish.

“hey, we’re pals, you and i,” he nudges you with his shoulder. the contact is enough to make your breath pause. “how can you be so cruel?”

there’s a pout on his lips. a perfectly rehearsed, theatrical and conniving pout on his lips that’s meant to add to his charm and chip away at your composure until you give him exactly what he’s after. for a moment, you debate whether or not you’d rather just take on a vagrant or deal with the (very attractive) disaster next to you.

“we’re acquaintances at best,” you purse your lips. “very faintly acquainted acquaintances at that.”

“well that’s just mean,” he gasps, “after all the business deals we’ve had together? i thought i’d be on your good side by now.”

that’s all you think he sees anything as. a good business opportunity. maybe he’s a good friend—he never leaves you for dead and he never really lets you down when you need him most, but perhaps that’s for his own benefit at the end. how else can you have connections if they’re all dead? but you don’t think intimacy is a word sampo uses in his every day vocabulary—much less his every day routine.

“sampo,” you snap, “drop it.”

“hey,” he eyes you, “everything alright?”

you hate that he acts like that—like he cares as his lips curl into that soft frown and his eyes gloss over in concern. it’s so carefully crafted, that mask of his, the one he can turn on to mimic every emotion he might need to fool you that he really cares and he really wants to know if you’re okay.

and you’re not—but he doesn’t need to know that.

“everything would be fine if you quit asking for your stupid date,” you grumble, “cross me off your list for the day.”

he stops walking. you kick yourself for immediately noticing the lack of warmth as soon as he’s not beside you anymore.

“what?”

it’s a simple question. one word. one syllable. yet it says so much. the hurt in his voice, the genuine confusion, the slight shock and the underlying betrayal.

“why’d you stop walking,” you raise a brow, “it’s late and i’m tired—”

“you’re changing the subject,” he cuts you off, “what do you mean list?”

“c’mon sampo, let’s not play this game tonight,” you sigh, “i’m really tired.”

“and what game are we playing?”

“the game of playing dumb,” you snap, and this time, there’s a bit more bite to your words, “the game of asking around to worm your way into everyone’s pants.”

“everyone’s pants? i didn’t know sampo koski had such a reputation,” he chuckles in that playful way of his—but there’s no charm this time, just dryness. “i didn’t know you believed it too.”

“so what am i supposed to believe? that you want to go on a date for fun?”

“that’s usually what people do on dates,” he shrugs, “have fun with people they like.”

he looks a bit wounded. it makes your heart bleed and you don’t like it. his shoulders are slumped and his eyes aren’t looking directly into yours for once—it’s like you’ve peeled off that confidence he wears like a second skin and left something a lot more tender and raw underneath.

something a lot easier to sting with the burn of rejection.

admittedly, you never thought you’d see the day where you’d feel bad for sampo after your rejection. you always thought you’d feel bad for yourself—saying no to everything you want but can’t ever really have. but he makes you feel like he wanted it too….that he’s been craving you just as badly as you’ve been craving him all this time.

“what are you—”

“listen, i….” and then he trails off. like he doesn’t have the right words. like he doesn’t know what he wants to say and has everything he wants to get off his chest all at the same time. like he needs you to know what’s on his mind. in the end, he plasters a grin on his face—one that’s tight and forced as he chuckles, “let’s get ya home, yeah? sampo koski will have you delivered to your door in once piece in no time—”

“sampo,” you sigh, “what do you want from me?”

there’s defeat in your voice. maybe hope. definitely caution.

“a date,” is all he says. “i’ve only ever asked you,” he adds, “if that’s what you’re worried about. no side deals or anything.”

that last part comes with another chuckle that really has no humor at all. it’s dry and empty and maybe even a little bitter.

“look, i appreciate the dedication, but i’d rather not be that fun hook up on the side that—”

“hey! that’s just harsh,” he gasps, “you’d think so lowly of sampo koski? after everything we’ve been through?”

sampo is good at one thing—playing the ever dedicated, ever conniving, ever charming business man. he knows how to lace in sweet words and tempting offers like how the devil whispers sins into your ears. he never cracks, never lets that facade fall even when he’s backed into a corner.

except this time, you don’t think it’s a facade. you think it’s a wall to keep you from noticing the pure heartbreak in his eyes.

it fills you with guilt instantly. it makes you almost hate yourself for not seeing good in him. it makes you feel blind for not noticing all the signs he’s been dropping for so long—signs you know he’s never given anyone else.

who else does he bump shoulders with and walk home in the dark and flick foreheads and make time for even when he’s on a tight schedule? who else gets to hear him talk about his day for just the sake of talking without and not a guise for a deal?

for a second you feel bad—and then you decide that for once, you’ll do something about it.

“sampo koski is always disappearing,” you say softly, taking a step forward, “what if he disappears this time too?”

“sampo koski always comes back,” he reminds you, heart on his sleeve as he meets you half way.

“always?” you ask hopefully.

he nods, like it’s the surest thing he’s promised. “of course.”

“okay, sampo,” you chuckle breathlessly, whether in joy or in disbelief, you’re unsure. maybe both. your hand cups his cheeks and when he leans into it, you decide it’s definitely both. “let’s go on your date. you’re paying.”

“you didn’t have to bring money into it,” he pouts—but the excitement in his voice is almost tangible.

you giggle, squeeze his cheeks together as his hands find your waist. it’s dark and it’s late and you’re tired—but sampo koski is here and nothing else has ever mattered more.

“i expect only the best date from the sampo koski.”

“good,” he grins, charming as ever, a little extra only for you, “because sampo koski never disappoints.”

you kiss him after that. and every day too.

i have been bewitched by the meathead guys 😔

[rollerman1]

[hanniedream]

thinking about taking care of shua when he's sick and weak and whiny and pathetic

[gnsparkebursa]

Krono Original 8274 4V 8 mm Laminat Parke

[littlespoonevan]

the tiniest moves you make

Pairing: Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz Rating: Teen and up Word Count: 8274 Summary: “And then,” Buck says, for approximately the eighth time in twenty minutes. “Eddie just- pulls the grenade out of the guy’s leg. Like it’s nothing! Like he does this kinda shit every day! Which- I mean, maybe he did? In the army? I don’t know; he didn’t talk much about it.” Maddie feels her eyes go wide and she’s not quite sure if it’s incredulity at Buck’s story or Buck’s whole demeanour. Because he’s somehow gone from bitching about the new guy being cooler than him to beaming in wonder. “That sounds really dangerous,” she says because reaching for her big sister instincts is easier than unpacking everything else Buck has said so far. “Did you really agree to get in an ambulance with him just so he wouldn’t upstage you at work?” Buck pulls a face around a mouthful of lasagne, waving a dismissive hand. “Mads, that’s not the point. Besides, me and Eddie worked things out after that.” She raises an eyebrow. “You did?” * Five times Buck talks to Maddie about Eddie intercut with five times Eddie talks to Maddie about Buck and one time they manage to figure it out on their own.

read here on ao3 ✨

[am-1-ty]

Tamed wilds and sharp claws

This is based off of @nebulaoftheprimes Zoomies! post (which i loved so much) This is the first fanfiction I've written on here so I apologise for any bad spelling/grammar in advance.

Title: Tamed wilds and sharp claws Words: 8274

Optimus Prime wasn't always the large symbol of hope. He wasn't always Optimus Prime, he was once Orion Pax and before that…well before that he was just trying to survive. Meals were scarce, even more so when many of the mechanimals would hibernate through the colder stellar cycles.

Then he was found by Alpha Trion.

He was on a scouting mission, roaming the forest when he decided to venture further out of his territory, just to see if he could catch anything good when there was shuffling to the side. The mech in front of him was no doubt a bigger predator, and while Orion had sharper plating he had only just started to grow into his adult frame.

Alpha Trion had no idea that anyone lived out in the wilderness of Cybertron; the mech in front of him looked no less than fourteen vorns, barely tall enough for a fully grown mech. Trion found himself with two options as he looked upon the young mech, plating high in defence and sharp denta bared in a warning.

It was more than a surprise to find a mech as young as he was with no others around him. It made him weary. This was meant to be a round, to secure the perimeter of the west side of Iacon. He did not expect to come away with much.

He knew that he had guards behind him, they were his trusty squadron but he couldn't just leave the poor sparkling here to fend for himself. “Hello little one” Trion tried to look less threatening, crouching down onto his pedes and holding out his servo. “Are you alone?” The mech in front of him looked up with weariness in his eyes, finials flat against his helm.

“Can you understand me?” He took the silence as a no when the sparkling leaned forwards on his servos, trying to gauge the scent of Trion when he held up his right servo. A sharp pinch is all Orion felt before the mech in front of him came closer. He hissed, a sharp warning sound before lashing out with his claws. A disgruntled shout was all he heard before his moves became lethargic and the world went black.

Trion turned to the selection of guards behind him, all looking various shades of guilty and confused. “I didn't mean shoot him” The guard to the far right hid his tranq behind his frame and Trion sighed looking back at the twitching mech, his frame still sporting his protoform colours.

“I can't leave him here” Trion moved to pick the mech up when one of the mechs behind him held up a servo “sir, is that really the best course of action?”

Trion crouched down beside the young mech, his processor whirring with all of the different outcomes of this. He nodded “I'll figure something out”. With the limp mech now safely secure in his arms a thought crossed his mind. Raising a wild sparkling would be hard granted but, as he made his way back to Iacon (planning to take the backroads of course) he couldn't help but feel that the light mech in his arms felt too right to be a coincidence. Trion smiled as he carefully made his way towards the archive tower, a new future beginning to unfold before his optics.

Orion awoke the same cycle, his processor fuzzy and the room smelled strongly of chemicals. The city of Iacon was loud and bright and overwhelming and he had woken up in a strange place that was not his nest at all. His instincts screamed at him that he was in the territory of another, bigger, stronger mech. He was lucky to be alive. That he should use this opportunity to run.

He had barely gotten off the berth when Alpha Trion opened the door slowly. Orion paused, lowering his body into a crouch (it was easier to run) before growling deeply, a warning fluctuating throughout his EM-Field.

That was until a tentative field wrapped around his, it was warm and it was soothing and it was so unlike anything that Orion had experienced. It made him stop, and reevaluate the situation. It was only then he noticed that the bigger mech held a tray, a cube filled with raw energon sat and Orion knew that it had been long before he had his last meal.

Orion wasn’t a fool, he knew what the bigger mech was trying to do. And it was working.

—

He had been introduced as Orion Pax, the understudy of Alpha Trion and they had left it at that. Ratchet was curious at most, sceptical of the mech at least. He looked small, underage and malnourished, barely grown out of his protoform. The next meeting the mech had sat in a corner behind Alpha Trion. He was silent, almost blanketing himself in the shadows that whispered behind him. His frame was small for the age that Ratchet guessed. Ten maybe eleven vorns at most. Sharp pointed joints and greyed oversized armour that seemed too clean for the amount of times he’d noticed the mech clamouring around the tower.

It carried on for the next three meetings. Orion always trailed after Alpha Trion, head low and shoulders curled. His eyes however were constantly on high alert, it was only after the third meeting Ratchet noticed he was looking for escape routes. Always seated near the window. Never properly focused.

Orion was a puzzle and Ratchet wanted to figure him out.

After the fourth meeting, the medic in training decided that he would finally introduce himself. He waited until many of the trainees and the mentors had left the room. His mentor would always make small talk with some of the others, similarly encouraging Ratchet to do the same. This however was like encouraging a brick wall to go out and make friends with birds. Ratchet never saw the appeal of making friends before Orion came along. He liked being by himself, thank you very much.

Ratchet didn't bother telling his Mentor where he was going, they were both in the room at least. The mech approached Orion, and it barely took a nano-klick before Orion’s gaze was on his, finials flicking up in interest before folding down again.

Ratchet paused, it was predatory, almost like he was analysing how to accurately offline him in a matter of klicks. Ratchet righted himself and stuck out his servo “Hey, I’m Ratchet. I'm training to be the OMC of Iacon. Who are you?" Orion didn't immediately take his hand, he stared, before quickly looking over to Alpha Trion. Ratchet didn't mind, it only intrigued him more as Alpha Trion gestured to shaking his servos and Orion made a small ‘oh’ before grabbing Ratchet’s servo and giving it a rough shake.

“Orion” the mech said as he leaned in closer, Ratchet observed as his eyes became unfocused for a nano-klick before leaning back, obviously content with whatever he had decided as his finials flicked upwards.

“Meeting pleasantries” he continued, and Ratchet’s optical ridge furrowed as he heard a small clink from Alpha Trion and whispered ‘nice to meet you’ before Orion repeated the sentence “nice to meet you”.

“Nice to meet you too Orion”

—

Orion had never taken a proper liking to Iacon. Despite never once being outside of the building that Alpha Trion had deemed safe enough to set up his own base. His own nest. During the first few stellar cycles Orion had been introduced to the world he was supposed to live in.

Taught to read and write and speak in the advanced Cybertronian language. Taught the basic mannerisms and the greeting and the behaviours. The shiny city of Iacon panning out before him when he looks out of the windows. It all looked so terrifying. His armour itched with the need to run and he wanted to bury himself in a hole, only ready to come out when he deemed it was safe from the confinements of society. Although he would never dream of not being grateful for his mentor's wisdom, he could not deny the rabid gnawing that consumed his chassis.

The first time he felt like this, the building didn't properly recover, and this was the archives introduction of the new trainee of Alpha Trion.

It had started with one or two mechs pointing out the deep grooves that were implanted into the ceiling. Then there were complaints about some thinking that there was a wild mechanimal roaming the archives.

The mystery was finally solved by an unsuspecting, undeserving mech who unfortunately looked up at the wrong time to spot piercing blue optics hanging from the top of one of the tablet shelves. She (understandingly) screamed and that’s how Alpha Trion got called down. He scruffed a squirming Orion and personally dealt with the situation.

The archives were a cold and silver polished building, and it was quiet, too quiet for somemech who was raised in the constant echoing of the wilds. Although the frequents who entered didn't mind Orion completely, they weren't the most accepting bunch. Unnerved by his silent movements and the glint of his fangs when the light got too bright. In the wilds, those who survived depended on stealth, of the silence of their steps but here in Iacon, it made him an outsider.

The group of young interns that Alpha Trion had introduced to him whispered behind his back, false rumours of where had come from -the wild, dangerous place he once called home. They didn't understand that he wasn't a threat, not to them.

But he was different, and they feared what they didn’t understand.

Expressing these thoughts towards Alpha Trion served to be a short comfort of ‘they’ll grow used to it’ and a pat of his helm.

—

It was a short trip to Kaon. That was all that Alpha Trion had described it as.

Orion was weary to get on the ship, it was loud and crackling with mech-made energy and it was something that he was taught to hide from, not hop right on. It took some luring but Alpha Trion eventually managed to get Orion on board. A small clingy Orion wasn’t the end of the world anyway.

The conference room was boring, to put it plainly. Orion had stuck to the side of Alpha Trion throughout the trip. Digging his claws into his mentor's armour when anymech came too close to him, snarling before Alpha Trion reprimanded him with a short and sharp click. His first impression thankfully kept most mech’s away anyway.

He unfortunately had to wait outside the room whilst Alpha Trion was discussing with the other higher caste council. There was a bench outside of the room, but Orion ignored that in favour of pacing the hallway, his optics scanning the building for escape routes.

When Orion reached the end of the hallway, an open window caught his attention. There he looked out upon the industrial landscape of Kaon, below the tower he stood on though was a stadium. It was loud, mechs shouting and cheering, blinding lights searched over the sky in long foul swoops. Highlighting the clouds that hung low, kissing the tops of the buildings. Orion’s attention wavered. Usually big bright lights and shouting meant danger, but since living in Iacon, it only meant something more interesting than whatever was going on in the archives.

Orion looked back at the hallway, he didn't know how long the meeting was going to take or how long his mentor would stay afterwards. Trion would always say that Orion’s curiosity would get him in the most trouble. This served as a quick and short thought and Orion jumped out the window.

—

The stadium was packed with all different types, shapes and sizes. Mech crammed into seats around the roaring stands and Orion felt overwhelmed with the amount of noise reverberating through his audials. He had half a mind to mute them when his eyes caught on the arena.

A grey mech, he was running rampant around the stage, low to the ground and fast. It made something in his chassis contract and the sudden urge to join the mech flowed through every circuit in his build.

Orion eyed the other competitor, a blue and white mech with a similar build to the grey mech. He was stock still, looking and trying to anticipate what the grey mech’s plan was. That was strike number one.

The other competitor on the stage watched as the grey mech zig zagged closer and closer to the other, dust clouds following in his wake. The grey mech turned away for a split second before grabbing a struggling competitor and body slamming the blue and white mech into the ground.

The crowd went manic. Cogs and bolts flew as the stands erupted in a tsunami of cheers and Orion muted his audials in panic, finials flat against his head, he ran to the nearest safe place he could see.

Slowly he brought his audials back online. The hallway that he had dashed into muffled a lot of the noise and he placed a servo on the cold wall. It grounded him for a moment as he slid down to sit on the gravel. Orion would regret it later when he would still have stones and sand falling out of his armour an hour later but that was a problem for future Orion. After a moment of muffled cheers and vents being blasted at full force, he heard quiet footsteps.

Orion righted himself, turning with a curious gaze to the darkened tunnel and decided to investigate. A small part of himself (a part that might not ever be snuffed out) had already declared that this hiding spot was his. He was the bigger predator, he would fight the creature that had decided to invade his territory.

It was there that he ran into the large grey mech, at least two times bigger than he was, armour sharp and eyes a blazing red. Scrap, he was definitely not the bigger predator. They stared at each other for a while the datapad in the larger mech’s dimmed at the lack of stimuli.

“Hello” The mech said, and Orion was too stunned, too overwhelmed by the events of the cycle that he forgot to respond. Too concentrated on picking apart this mech’s weaknesses whether he realised it or not. Up close Orion could see how the mech’s armour glinted with rough edges and battle scars from years of training and battles.

The mech didn't back down, didn't shy away from Orion’s predatory gaze. In fact he was more intrigued if anything. As the more he stared the higher Orion’s plating rose, an adorable attempt at intimidation.

“I didn't hear you come round the corner” the mech said “I must be more tired than I thought” the grey mech laughed. It was husky and deep and it seemed to slip down his throat like honey.

“What are you doing here young mech?” ah questions. He could do this.

“Loud” Orion croaked out and he internally cringed at the simplicity of his answer, he knew better words than that.

“Yes I suppose it is” The grey mech knelt down “i don't do well with crowds either” he smiled, and Orion noted how he did not display his denta like many others and how Alpha Trion taught him to smile.

“Im Megatronus” and oh! Orion had read about him in one of the tablets, Alpha Trion blatantly complained about his rebellion that he leads, he wasn't just a gladiator, he threw speeches left right and centre. Megatronus spoke up against the higher up’s, he connected the downtrodden, spoke up for the miners and the labourers of Kaon, the Cybertronians living underneath the heavy weight of the council’s iron rules. He was known for being the fiercest fighter in the vast chambers of Kaon's fighting arenas, where the shadows would linger, covering the air with thick smoke and sparks of raw ambition crackled, lighting up the stadiums. The Kaon fighting pits! So that's where he was!

Orion suddenly felt a lot more confident as he answered “Nice to meet you, my name is Orion”.

“Orion?” Megatronus mulled it over “that's a very interesting name”. There was a pause, Megatronus’ eyes searched his before the larger mech finally decided to break the muffled shouts of the stadium with “You’re not from Kaon are you, young mech?”

Despite how many times that Orion scuffed up his armour, how many times he rolled in the dirt or covered himself in the scent of fresh growth and outdated energon on his scouting trips. The new armour would always be washed clean at the end of the day. Shiny and presentable. Just like Alpha Trion.

“No, sir, Iacon is where I reside” hmm, it seemed like the practice conversations he would have with Ratchet is paying off “I’ve read your speeches, what you fight for is very brave and admirable”.

The mech’s optics dimmed and he scoffed "what would a prissy Iacon mech know about needing to fight” Orion knew that it wasn't a question. If not for the seething anger and annoyance that reverberated around the mech but for the curling snarl that displayed sharp white denta. Orion didn't know what he did wrong, the mech liked him before didn't he? Was it something of his status, did he have a bad relationship with Iacon?

Alpha Trion never liked him, perhaps that was it?

“Why are you here anyway? What business do you have with the Kaon pits?” The large mech pushed forwards as Orion curled back, this was a predator and Orion knew not to mess with predators. But he couldn't run away from this fight “Were you sent by the council? To find the flaws in our ways?” Orion shook his helm helplessly.

“I heard cheers, I was curious is all” Orion felt his servos hit the wall and his spark whirled rapidly, he was trapped.

Megatronus smirked, leaning closer knowing that he had gotten the spy trapped and ignoring his pleas “I wonder what the higher council will say when I caught one of their-” It was sharp and fast and painful. Megatronus cried out as Orion scrambled back, claws out and sharp denta bared in a warning. The scrape across Megatronus’ armour was steadily oozing energon and he looked at the young mech, surprise drawn across his faceplates.

“Well look at that, the glitch mouse had claws” The grey mech looked down at Orion, they had to at least be the same age but the other looked small and malnourished, sharpened armour and his optics formed slits.

“You weren't raised in Iacon, were you?” Orion paused, his vents working overtime to cool his internal workings and shook his head.

“My home was what Trion calls the wilds.” Megatronus furrowed his optical ridges before smiling and nodding.

“My apologies for my rude introduction little glitch mouse, come visit the Kaon Pits anytime, maybe then you can teach me how you did that neat trick” Megatronus smiled when the pupils of Orion's optics expanded, his finials flicking up.

“I enjoy our next talk”

—

The introduction between Megatronus and Orion sparked and lit a brilliant blazing flame and despite what Alpha Trion internally thought, he was glad at least that Orion had made a few friends other than Ratchet. He should have expected that they were going to be more of the unruly type but that did little to stop Orion. Instead it further intrigued him, Orion never found solace in Iacon, but in the dark, industrial city of Kaon he found freedom. More freedom than he had felt in the last three vorns. Megatronus did not berate him if his words got too harsh or if he didnt use the right tone, nor his fellow colleagues. They did not teach him the ways of the new society nor did they try. Instead he taught them.

He taught them how to move silently, how to blanket yourself in the shadows when capturing your prey and to never stay still. The gladiators of Kaon were far unlike the archivists, they didn't care for Orion’s past. That he had grown up surrounded by a multitude of cybertronian nightmares. They didn't care because to them, it only made him stronger. They accepted him as he was, claws and all.

It had posed a few misunderstandings when he was first introduced however, on the surface he looked like just another mech who wanted to join Megatronus’ cause. And if Megatronus trusted him, why shouldn't they? When mech’s would finish their battles and reside in the common space it took a while for them to realise that Orion scampering up the walls and along the ceiling, his claws leaving deep grooves in the steel walls, was going to become a regular thing.

Megatronus had once caught Orion doing it, mumbling something to himself about where the holes in the wall came from as one of his friends patted his arm “at least it's not a feral insecticon, we'll take the small wins”.

Orion was overwhelmed with the change in acceptance and he held onto it with both servos. He revelled in the fact that he didn't have to shrink inwards on himself, he didn't have to make himself as small and unnoticeable as he possibly could in public. He didn't have to worry about spooking patrons with his armour and claws.

He talked loud and proud, fangs glinting sharply in the low light of the city, using his hands freely in expression, and not fearing that someone would tell him to put them away in fear he would break the fragile objects around him. Mechs did more than just accept him, they embraced him into their groups, laughing when his optics were consumed by his pupils and jumped around when he got excited. In Kaon, Orion would be able to catch an electro-dove mid flight with his bare denta (something that he wouldn't even dream about doing in Iacon) and bots that were in the area would observe, nod in appreciation of a successful hunt and continue on as Orion would scarf down the bird in two bites. Megatorn (who would normally go flying with Orion at least once a deca-cycle) openly laughed whenever this occurred, it was a sound that Orion wanted to bottle in a jar and keep for the rest of eternity.

When the urge seized Orion once again, spark becoming bound within his chassis and processor dizzy with the amount of new information it held, he ran. It became clear, with both the mechs in the Kaon Pits and the surrounding neighbourhood that if you got in the way whilst Orion got his (dubbed by Megatronus) ‘Zoomies’ because you failed to get yourself out of the way in time, be prepared to become the next cybertronian springboard. Sometimes, some gladiator mech’s joined him, picking out different routes and buildings that they would all safely get over, laughing as they raced through the dark streets of Kaon. In those moments, Orion felt more alive than he had done in years.

He was no longer who he once was, unnamed mech just trying to survive out in unmarked territory, nor was he the quiet understudy archivist of Iacon that he had built his position around. Not when he was out here. Out here, he was something in between. Something wild and untamed, yet with a mind as sharp as his claws.

–

When Orion became chained by his new name, it was a lot harder to sneak out (it was a lot harder to do anything besides work). He had learned quickly during his time in Iacon that he was to place a stopper on his base instincts. That he shouldnt behave like that if he wanted to become a civilised mech. So, he did. Optimus (Not Orion anymore) was a leader, strong and powerful, and if his berth looked a bit more like a nest, or if he snarled and hissed at decepticons in the mists of battle, that was nobody’s business but his. His urge to run, to devour and maim gnawed at him beneath the weight of responsibility.

—

Ratchet wasn't an oblivious mech. He could see how Optimus had gotten twitchy at the start of the war, couped up in some base whilst trying to decipher the Decepticons messages. It was hard, especially since he was constantly surrounded by new people without having Alpha Trion to hide behind when things got too overwhelming. Becoming someone new almost overnight was suffocating for any mech.

Ratchet would see the way that his servos’ would clench, his early morning prowls around the base and the late night kitchen raids. Ratchet was sure that he had seen Optimus climb on top of the energon cooler once, but he didn't mention it.

This was why when he came into Optimus’ hab suite to find Optimus lying on one of the metal beams above his berth he put his foot down.

“You need to go out,” Ratchet said the next morning, his fingers flying on the datapad in rapid succession. Optimus paused, the crates of broken tablets clunking in front of him, “what?”

“You heard me, you’ve been cooped up in this base and it's driving both you and me mad.” Ratchet grumbled, finishing off his sentence on the data pad and turning to Optimus. “That wasn't a suggestion”.

“Ratchet, I need to be here, helping” Optimus put the box down, his armour plate rising in an attempt to make his point known. “There is too much at stake fo-”.

Ratchet stared at him, quiet and still. He crossed his arms over his chassis. Optimus shrank back.

“Just a few cycles, that's all i ask” Ratchet smiled, Optimus was always known to be big and strong, all knowing. In the end Ratchet always knew the truth. He was barely over 20 vorns after all. “It will be good for you, to burn off that energy and shutting down your higher processing”. He noted the way that Optimus seemed to stiffen.

“I know you haven’t done it in a while” Ratchet paused, forcing Optimus to make optic contact with him. “It's needed though”.

Optimus frowned, optics darting around the room trying to focus on anything but the conversation at hand, “but-”

“But nothing, as your medic I insist” Optimus scoffed at those words “playing the medic role now are we?” Ratchet dutifully ignored him “go out to the crystal spires for today and if you really don't like it come back, but i won't bother you for a few cycles if you decide to stay there”. Ratchet came close, his EM-Field wrapping around Optimus like a warm safe blanket. Optimus hesitated, if something were to happen whilst he was gone, but he trusted Ratchet. Eventually he sighed and Optimus met Ratchet's optics.

“If the medic says so”.

Ratchet smiled, and laughed, patting Optimus on his shoulder “come on, i'll see you out”.

—

The wilderness echoed around him, a quiet whisper of home enveloped his helm and Optimus smiled. Claws sunk into the ground, the familiar feeling of dirt under his pedes. He didn't walk. He ran.

—

It was supposed to be nothing more than a scouting mission, even if his spark ached for the familiar soil under his pedes and the smell of Iacon. Megatron had told his lieutenant that it was nothing more than that. Even if Starscream had looked him up and down with hooded eyes and a knowing smirk plastered across his faceplate.

"You're in charge until I'm back" Megatron had mumbled, his voice echoing round the bow (starscream had lovingly nicknamed it the throne room) "I trust you'll be responsible" Megatron turned towards the door, smiling slightly at the way starscream's face lit up.

He decided to take some lowly recruits, it would have looked odd if he just went out by himself anyway.

He had decided to scout the west side of Iacon, the Old forest was what many of the locals had called it. Some even claimed that the forest grew only a few cycles after Primus transformed himself into Cybertron. The woodland stretched for miles, bushy mountains and valleys filled with spires that stretched higher than many of the buildings that were splayed out across Iacon.

The local council had deemed it a planetary treasure and mechs from all over Cybertron would come to various parts just to marvel and stand under the hundreds of acres of towering crystal trees.

Megtron had led his small squadron to the outskirts of one of the small openings and led them inside. Telling each and every one of them to keep guard as Iacon was known for having the most top security system there was. After all, Optimus Prime (Bah, such a silly name if you asked Megatron) resided in the city. Only the best for Mr. Prime himself.

Megatron remembered a time when big titles didn't matter, not when they had each other's back. Not when each other was all they had.

A squadron up at the front raised his servo and Megatron raised an optical ridge. His audials picking up the shuffling of the trees and the clinking of leaves, optics scanning their surroundings and looking for threats between the trees.

He eventually gave up after a second, turning to his comms and hushing a quiet but harsh 'what is it?'. There was only a slight pause before a voice overcame the right side of his audial and the squadron's voice came overhead.

‘Something is coming’ he said ‘and fast. We should hide, it might be an Autobot or two’ the rest of the mechs around him stiffened up and Megatron rolled his eyes. He knew that most of the Decepicons were part of normal civilisation and society before they joined his cause. They couldn’t have not been, unless there was some secret organisation of mechs he didn’t know about.

(Which was highly unlikely)

They pushed themselves back towards the trees, blanketing themselves in the darkness of the surrounding night that whispered along the edges of the clearing. Many of their frames, thankfully, were among the greyer colours.

There was an intake of breaths as galloping footsteps came closer, pushing sheddings of crystal shards across the ground as a zap-deer came rushing through the trees, clearly in distress about something.

Megatron heard a collective outtake of vents at the built up pressure he was sure they were all experiencing. He paused at a quiet whisper of the mech from before (god forbid it he knew their name) “that's odd, I could've sworn there were two-“

That’s when he sees him. Optimus-fragging-prime in all of his large matrix holding glory. The mech barreled through the treeline, his plating littered with scrapes and dents and his claws freshly sharpened.

The squadron watched on in horror as Optimus (THE Optimus prime, oh Lord high protector and kind leader of the autobots) jumped on top of the zap-deer, pinning it down and sinking his claws into its mesh as easily as melted steel.

It occurred to megatron then two things: 1. Optimus was out of his mind, both figuratively and literally 2. Megatron has no idea how the autobots haven’t already won this war (and he’s starting to think that Optimus is losing on purpose)

Optimus’ jaw unhinged and the squadron got a short glint of his fangs before he ripped off the head of the zap-deer, the throat split open in a spray of energon and despite the nauseating fear surrounding his squadron, Megatron could help but feel impressed.

He knew that Orio-Optimus (before he was Optimus) grew up in the wilds. The active base coding in his processor looked almost to be snuffed out by the time Megatron saw him leading the autobots.

He knew though. Megatron knew that Orio-Optimus (he was Optimus now) could never forget who he was before Primus chose him. He watched on as Optimus feasted on his newest kill, almost smiling at the horrified looks on his squadron's faces.

It didn’t last long though as one of the mechs took a step back, clearly unnerved by the whole ordeal, and stepped on a broken piece of crystal. It crushed loudly under his pede and he winced, optics widening as optimus’ head spun round. Optics slit and fangs bared in a warning growl at the trespasser. (Fully intent on mauling them I hope you know)

This stopped however as Megatron stepped out in front of the mech. Forcing Optimus’ gaze on him as he approached the edge of the cleaning. Shadows chased away by the moonlight shining off of the crystals.

Optimus stared at him for a moment and Megatron could see how his optics quivered before shrinking down again.

Megatron waited, crouched on one knee, servo’s out and open.

“Hello old friend”

Optimus paused, his primal mind assessing the situation before slowly creeping closer. He noticed his own scent on the other mech, it was light and old but it was there.

Megatron felt the light brush of Orion’s face plate as he sniffed his servo. The warmth radiating off of him made him almost miss the quiet nights they would share together. Couped up in their berths with only each other’s holograms for light and nights they would sneak over the wall together. Nights that only the stars bore witness to.

It ended as soon as it started, this time with an ex-ventilation and a judging sound of a snort before Optimus turned and ran out of the clearing, his claws leaving deep sinking marks in the ground. And megatron with a warm spark.

He didn’t like what they fought for, a commanding leader who lied to their subjects and made bargains with devils. But he would never forget his first friend.

There was silence for a while before one of the mechs behind him turned to the others and whispered “anyone wanna tell me what the hell just happened?”

Megatron turned to point his cannon at them, his face plates curling to reveal a snarl. “If any single mech that was here today tells anyone else what happened here, I will slaughter you alive and feed your remains to Optimus. Is that understood?”

He got a chorus of “yes, sir!” And he relaxed, happy with the threat he imposed.

—

When Optimus got the short ping through his audial, Ratchet's calming voice echoing through his helm it was a struggle to accept his higher processing.

“Optimus, are you there?” Ratchet’s voice reverberated around his helm and Optimus found himself wincing at the volume. Resetting his voice box after a few days of not using it for the advanced cybertronian language he slowly replied to the medic.

“Here” he heard a humm from the other side of the comm and he found it difficult not to repeat the sound in an attempt to soothe Ratchet from a nonexistent threat.

“Are you ready to come back to Iacon? We might have found a lead on the Decepticons” He could tell by the clacking in the background that Ratchet was typing furiously on a tablet and Optimus internally chuckled at his friend's antics.

“I'm on my way back now” Optimus smiled and brushed himself off, excited to get one last run on his way back to Iacon.

When Optimus got back to Iacon it became a habit of Ratchet’s to shake his helm at the state he had gotten himself in, shove his friend over to his medical berth and gently wipe off the dried energon from his plating. A skill that Ratchet has perfected over many vorns.

—

“So…” Miko started, her voice trailing off in thought “He’s feral?”

Ratchet looked at her, faceplates tilting down in a scowl “he’s what?”

“Yeah” Raf looked up from his video game “what?”

“Miko” Jack started, his arm slinging down to rest on the couch “Optimus isn't feral” Miko whined turning to face him “not even a little?”

Raf shrugged and continued on with his game and Jack watched whilst Miko bugged Ratchet about Optimus’ backstory.

“Ratchet, pleaseeeee pretty please tell me some more” Miko leant over the bannister, her face uncomfortably close with the Medics as he took a step back grumbling something about personal space under his breath.

“I told you all that you needed to know, Optimus just needs some time to explore the surroundings without his higher processing getting in the way” Ratchet made his way over to the data pad that resided in the middle of the room, fingers drumming over the keyboard.

“Higher processing?” Jack asked and Ratchet turned, pleased that someone finally asked about something he could tell them wholeheartedly.

“Every Cybertronian is made with base coding, this allows them to walk, stand, communicate in their basic ways, ventilate, so on and so forth” Ratchet paused at the thoughtful expression on Jack’s face before Raf spoke up “so it's like babies?”

“Your human equivalent of sparklings would be babies, yes” Ratchet’s mouth formed a line “however cybertronian sparklings are much more advanced than human sparklings”.

“Babies” Miko spoke up and Ratchet nodded hurriedly with a dismissive “yes, yes I know”.

“Their higher processing is everything that a civilised mech has to learn when a sparkling, to be integrated into our society when they are grown” Ratchet turned away from the datapad, leaning against the railing and making optic contact with the kids “They learn things like the advanced cybertronian literature, manners and how to interact with other mech’s both their age and above”.

“So it's like the dual processing theory?” Miko interrupted and Raf looked up after his screen flashed a bloody red, signalling that he lost with a questioning “what?”

“The dual processing theory!” she bounced up to lean against the back of the sofa “It's basically how the human brain has type one processing which is more intuitive thinking and type two processing which is more deliberate thinking”.

The three figures looked at her and she furrowed her brows “what? I listen in class” she crossed her arms and mumbled “sometimes”.

“Right, yes” Ratchet cleared his vocaliser “I guess it's similar to that”.

“So…” Raf started, closing his laptop and looking up towards the medic “he's acting on instinct?” Ratchet nodded, servos rested on the railing and hummed in approval “that seems right”.

The kids mumbled among themselves, however they still seemed confused and Ratchet sighed “look, he just needs to run around for a bit, burn off the extra energy that he builds up” He turned back towards the data pad unbeknownst to the information bomb he’d just dropped on the kids.

“He’s got the zoomies” Miko whispered and a smile stretched across her face as she turned towards the boys behind her “guys! He's got the zoomies!”

Jack turned to her with an amused smile and Raf looked bewildered “he's got the what?”

Miko stood up, rocking on her heels “You know when cats get the zoomies? Optimus is a cat!”. Miko quickly brought out her phone, switching on youtube and showing them the first cat video that came up. Jack and Raf looked on as the video depicted a black and white night vision video of a house cat scampering around the presumed living room at frightening speeds. She paused, turning the phone towards her “just not at three am”. She dashed towards the railing, almost throwing herself over it “Ratchet!”

Ratchet looked over tiredly “Yes?”

“Does Optimus have zoomies at three am?” Ratchet looked taken aback by the question, looking around possibly for the secret camera that was recording this weird life he led “no, not that I know of”.

Miko deflated, and then perked up again “can we go and visit optimus?”

“No,” Ratchet said, and that was that. Miko pouted, deflating against the railing.

–

It was a couple of hours later, Arcee, Bumblebee and Bulkhead had come back from a scouting mission that was deemed a tinsy bit too dangerous to take their partners on. Immediately as Bulkhead drove through the bridge Miko pounced.

“Bulkhead!” She yelled, sliding down the side of the railing as the bot transformed into his root mode. “Miko,” he replied, “how was your day?”

“Triangles” she waved him off “Did you know that Optimus gets the zoomies?” she grinned and Bulkhead leant down, confused.

“I'm sorry, he gets what?”

Jack looked up towards his partner, glad to see that she wasn't injured before leading into the same questions that Miko had “yeah, Arcee did you know about this?”

Arcee scoffed and leant against the railing beside the couch “I wasn't aware prime did anything other than work and look serious”.

“Anymech want to tell me about what happened on the scouting trip?” Ratchet turned away from his datapad and glared at the three mech’s. Bumblebee shrank away to jokingly hide behind Raf and see what new game he was playing today.

Arcee groaned “No energon, no decepticons, absolutely nothing besides death drops and skittish earth creatures”. Jack looked up in sympathy “not a very interesting day then?”

Bumblebee let out a tired whine collapsing against the railing as Raf sadly pat his helm.

“Not going to lie though” Arcee mumbled, thinking back to the previous conversation “I did once hear some shuffling outside my berth room and when I went to go and check, all I could see down the hallway was two massive glowing blue optics, I thought I was being chased down by a- what did you say they were called?”

“Demons?” Jack asked “Wizards?” chimed Raf “Zombies?” Miko yelled, clamouring on top of bulkhead as he quietly mumbled “Miko, are you sure you don't have the zoomies?”

“She absolutely does” Raf said as Arcee nodded towards Jack with the demons. “It was freaky but I'm pretty sure it was OP”. She looked around the base “speaking of OP, where is he?”

“Classified” Ratchet mumbled as Miko shouted “zooming!” over him. Arcee nodded and decided not to ask again.

“How fast can you run bulkhead?” Miko asked, now comfortably sitting on one of the bots shoulders. Bulkhead hummed for a moment “alt or root mode?”

“Root” Miko replied, swinging her legs absentmindedly and looking for a good cat video to show bulkhead. Bulkhead shrugged as best as he could without knocking Miko off “I don't know, I don't run a lot. I can go up to 300 miles per hour in alt mode though”.

“D’ya know how fast Optimus can run?” Miko asked, changing the subject with ease and Ratchet snorted with a mumbled “fragger puts claw marks in the walls with how fast he goes”.

“We should do a race!” Miko yelled, grinning from ear to ear and everyone groaned as Bumblebee buzzed ‘is that where the claw marks come from?’

—

It was past sunset when Optimus returned a cycle later, his frame caked in mud and his optic wild and dilated. Ratchet gently pulled him aside to the medical berth for the first in a long time. He gently soaked an old towel that he had found in the base, warm water and a dash of soap and busied himself with Optimus’ armour as he sat on the berth.

There was silence for a few clicks, only the sound of dripping water and clicking joints until Ratchet mumbled a soft “Miko wants to organise a race”.

It took a small number of clicks before Optimus asked, his voice box crackling after a few days of being unused “with who?”

Ratchet chuckled, making sure to keep his voice low so as to not disturb the other resting autobots “with you”.

“Me?” Ratchet hummed and smiled as Optimus echoed the sound.

“Have a night to think about it of course” Ratchet rinsed the towel, grimacing slightly at the murky colour of the water before continuing “But personally I don't think Miko will even remember she asked it the next time the kids visit”. Ratchet bit back a smile as he chipped off the dirt specks from Optimus’ face, the mech scrunching up his faceplates in silent retaliation.

“We don't have much to do tomorrow anyway” Ratchet placed the bucket and towel on the side of the table and turned towards the larger mech “get some rest” he smiled “medics order”.

—

Miko danced along the side of the road before making her way towards the middle, doing some sort of air guitar before bringing up the microphone to her mouth “Roll up, Roll up to the Bot 5 million!!” Miko yelled into the microphone, and everyone winced as it screeched whilst Miko decided that hitting it on the side would make it stop. Not even half an hour ago Miko had asked Optimus to a race as soon as she had entered the base after school (skipping detention as always).

He was however in the middle of a meeting with Agent Fowler at the time and the man nodded nostalgically explaining how he used to go racing with his father in ‘the old days’. Miko smiled blindingly as Optimus shrugged and agreed (anything to get him out of meetings, he preferred it much better when he would just wait outside whilst Alpha Trion dealt with the statistics)

Miko cheered and ran off to find Bulkhead and Raf (and Bumblebee) to rope them into this.

It was only when they had all gathered in the common area of the base that Jack and Arcee arrived in tow with Mrs. Darby. (Miko forced them to all be in the race).

“I don't think that’s a good name for the race” Raf called out from Bumblebee’s driving seat “we haven't been racing for 5 million years anyway”.

“Okay, yeah well i'm sure the Autobots have” Miko waved dismissively and Bumblebee let out a loud beep ‘how old do you think i am?’ as Raf snorted with laughter.

The landscape stretched as far as the eye could see, large sandy rocks scattered the sides of the road as the horizon bubbled with the heat of the July air. Ratchet sat on a nearby rock, quietly observing so that nobody would get hurt and chatting (gossiping) with June, who had positioned herself next to him.

Bumblebee, who had decided to take up the left half of the road, revved his engine loudly as Raf giggled in the driver's seat. Beside him Arcee stretched out her servos, she had taken up the mantle of running the first race on foot as it would be good for exercise. Jack, following this statement, begrudgingly asked Bulkhead if he could ride with the larger bot and Agent Fowler.

Miko would have been saying the starting times anyway so Bulkhead agreed as he revved his engine beside a grinning Arcee. Optimus had taken to running on his pedes as it seemed the most comfortable for him. If anyone asked him he would say that he was doing it for the training. A secret part of him, a deep and small part of his spark, remembered running like this with some of his younger packmates. Memories were blurry but the emotions were as clear as shards of glass. However, when he used to shuffle through these emotions, the edges cut through his spark like claws so eventually he stopped trying.

“Three!” Engines revved and Arcee dug her right pede into the ground.

“Two!” Miko giggled into the microphone and Optimus felt his processor go blank. The road stretched for miles, there were so many rocks to jump on.

“One!…” The world seemed to stop for a moment.

“Go!!” —

Arcee stopped after three rounds, her pedes hurt and the ground looked so comfortable compared to the dirt road.

Bumblebee, although he liked a good race, he much preferred to race against someone who could match his speed a bit more (he wasn't including optimus when he explained this to Raf) The yellow bot also much preferred not to be a cybertronian themed sick bag when Raf decided to start looking a bit peaky after the fifth round.

Agent Fowler had decided to give up his seat to Miko and instead do the countdown after the first round, complaining that he ‘Wasn't as young as he used to be’.

Bulkhead and Miko soared through the rounds, loud rock music playing from the bots radio as Jack had decided to ditch at round four to go and check on Arcee. For a while the only ones on the track were Optimus, Bulkhead and Miko who went up and down for Fifteen rounds until Miko admitted that she felt a bit sick after the spinning and decided to go and grab a water bottle and a cucumber sandwich that June had packed for the kids.

Ratchet had done similarly but with energon goodies and some rust sticks he’d manage to find.

Optimus, however took great pleasure in the clear roads, speeding up and down them with a speed that seemed unreal for a bot his size, the kids cheering him on from the sidelines, Bumblebee buzzing in admiration and Ratchet chuckled to himself as he watched Optimus steadily grow a bright beaming smile. At that moment he didn't look like Optimus, the great autobot leader of cybertron. To Ratchet, that moment was filled with memories of warm nights in Iacon, the dimmed lights of the medical sections and the view of the city below him. To him, he was neither Optimus nor Orion. He was something rich and wild, tired of the ropes that bound him to society. Tonight though? Tonight he was cut, unbound and free.

[sexylonestar]

Nylon # 8274

[nordsea-horizons]

DA-8274-1868-2234 by @november.oscar.whisker on ig🌤️

[fire-on-thirst]

Gotta say I love ur work so much. Can we get a lestappen Instagram fic and maybe a lewis And charles fic, either as friends or in a relationship.

I have this headcanon where lewis and charles are friends and Lewis visits charles and goes into his wardrobe and finds out he has many fashionable clothes but was either too shy to wear them to the paddock or was afraid of being accused of copying lewis, but lewis convinces charles of wearing them to the paddock. And they come in on race day both looking fabulous maybe they are matching or they simply came together.

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, pierregasly and others

charles_leclerc Travelling the world with you makes it so much better!! ❤️✈️🌏

I have also been told that I must point out that those stuffed animals are all mine. (They are not)

view all 8274 comments

landonorris *cough* photo credits for some of those *cough*

danielricciardo Me too

pierregasly Me Three

landonorris if we have to deal with this shit we should at least get photo credits

charles_leclerc Have you got something stuck in your throat you gremlin?

landonorris .sebastianvettel Charles is being mean to me

sebastianvettel And this is why I refused to have an Instagram account

pierregasly This post is both sweet and sickening. It would probably be more sweet if I didn’t see it often or walk into something that has caused me to be scarred for life

arthur_leclerc You’ve only walked in on them once?

landonorris You’ve only recently walked in on them??

user1 Does that look like Max?

user2 Charles and Max Verstappen? I think you need to get your eyes checked

user1 He liked the photo though

user2 Doesn’t mean a thing

leclerc_pascale Beautiful Couple ❤️🥰

charles_leclerc Merci maman ❤️

leclerc_pascale I assume you are taking good care of him?

charles_leclerc Maman, aren’t you meant to be asking him that? I’m your son!

leclerc_pascale He’s also my son. Debatably my favourite. Are you taking care of him?

charles_leclerc HE’S YOUR FAVOURITE?!?!

arthur_leclerc MAMAN!

lorenzotl EXCUSE ME!!

leclerc_pascale He’s the only one who hasn’t caused me any stress or gave me grey hairs

maxverstappen1

liked by arthur_leclerc, danielricciardo, victoriaverstappen and others

maxverstappen1 I think I’ve got a stalker 🧐

view all 9827 comments

landonorris Don’t call me a stalker. It’s called personalised photography

maxverstappen1 If you break into my house to take pictures of me sleeping it’s called stalking

landonorris Don’t forget the time I snuck into the shower 🤤😉

user1 LANDO 😂😂

danielricciardo I don’t think you mind this one specific stalker

maxverstappen1 🤫

victoriaverstappen Wonder who the stalker is? 🧐

user2 Charles just posted a post with his partner and now Max??

user3 And Arthur has liked Max’s post. I didn’t even know that Arthur followed Max

user2 Something is definitely happening I can just feel it

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo, pierregasly and others

charles_leclerc I wanted this to be a cute little reveal but then you called me a stalker so the cute reveal went out the window. Here you guys go anyway, me and maxverstappen1 are dating and have been for several years now. We hid it not knowing what the reaction would be and partly scared we would lose our seats in F1 which has been both of our dreams since we were young boys. Eventually I gained the courage and came out as gay to the world and said that I was also dating someone and the support I got was unimaginable. Yes obviously there was some hate but most of it was supportive and just overall kind.

After a long discussion we no longer wanted to hide this relationship from everyone and why should we? Other people in the paddock don’t have to do why should we? Yes a Ferrari driver is in love with a Red Bull driver and if you don’t support it then don’t support me (or him). It’s our life to live and everybody else has has to just real with it. I will still fight on the track to win the championship and under no circumstances will I just let Max win. We are both professionals and both too stubborn to actually let the other win. We’ve been together for several years and have had several battles on track (just without you guys knowing about the relationship) and it never stopped us then so it won’t stop us now so nobody has to worry about any of that.

maxverstappen1 Thank you for everything that you’ve done throughout the years and the memories that you have given me and we certainly have many more to come especially now that we don’t have to hide. (I hope everyone is ready for the spam that is going to come on my stories and posts). … I Love You!! ❤️

Ps. I will beat you to a championship one day

View all 102819 comments

landonorris WOOOOOOOO!!!

danielricciardo Fucking finally. Can I now post all the pictures I have of the two of you?

arthur_leclerc 👏🏻👏🏻 Happy for you!

pierregasly 🫢😱🤯 You and Max together never would’ve guessed that. Congratulations though for finally announcing it. I can now officially make jokes in interviews.

victoriaverstappen Wonderful Couple 🩷

scuderiaferrari Congratulations. You’ll always have us behind you!

maxverstappen1 I love you too you soppy idiot 💙

charles_leclerc ❤️

charles_leclerc Your turn to do a post on me

maxverstappen1 Maybe when you win the championship

———

Also here is the Lewis Hamilton x Charles Leclerc drabble.

[bungou-stray-dogs-archive]

Doppo Kunikida card - Resplendent Banquet

Leader skill - Everyone's Garden Banquet Increase ADA character atk 40% Active skill - What? Oh, the balloon? Here, you can borrow it Deals x4 Azure dmg to all enemies Sub-skill 1 - I don't see Dazai... Where is he? Activates when hp is 90%+ (82%+ at lv.5) For 1 turn, 1 hp will remain even if dealt a killing blow Sub-skill 2 - Fine, I'll play along Activates when an ADA character is in the team Reduces Crimson enemy dmg by 100 for 1 turn (125 at lv.5) Memo Kunikida Doppo, dressed in white, enjoying the banquet. Usually one to display high-level skills and leadership as the next in line to be director, he appears to be pleased by the gathering as he forgets his work-related worries. Nonetheless, he keeps an eye on the other agency members. Quotes "Day after day, we work tirelessly for the agency. Today's task, however, is to enjoy this banquet to its fullest! Cheers... to a fun party!" "Oh, there you are, Dazai. Hm? You want a flower from my bouquet? I don't mind. I just didn't take you for someone who'd cherish such a thing." "Our ability to occasionally hold an event like this is thanks to the hard work you all put in every day... excluding one person... Thank you." Affiliation: Armed Detective Agency Azure affinity Atk: 1181 (Max) | 154 (Base) Hp: 8274 (Max) | 848 (Base) Defensive type

He's available from the Resplendent Banquet event (EN & JP)

[th3maestr0]

The Magazine

Liam Gallagher, brash, rude and downright unpleasant, but that’s not how you see him, or how he acted towards you. You’re hooked on the person he was when he was with you, but suddenly you find out you’re not the only person who gets to see him like that, it’s shattering.

Word count: 8274

He pushed you back against the wall, making a huff of air fly from your lungs, you barely had the time to breathe again before his lips were pressed against yours, hot and frustrated.

His hands were on either side of your shoulders, pressed against the wall, practically cornering you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and filed your hands into his hair, short, shaggy but soft, pushing his head further against yours.

You gasped as he bit your bottom lip, which allowed him to quickly slot his tongue into your mouth, you could taste the alcohol on his breath reminding you that this wasn't pure infatuation, he was sloshed out of his mind.

He pressed his hip's against yours and tilted his head deepen the kiss, if that was even possible at this point.

He pulled away and you gasped for air, staring straight down at you with lidded eyes that screamed lust. His cheeks were red and lips puffy and slightly parted.

"Oh dear god..." his spoke lowly, his voice rumbling. You gave him a questioning look as he dragged his eyes over your features, you were absolutely sure you looked a mess just as much as he did.

He lifted a hand to your face, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "God you're beautiful." He spoke lowly.

You felt you face heat up, it was definitely red, it felt hot. You watched him chuckle at your expression, you gave him a giddy smile.

He moved a hand to the back of your neck before pressing hungry kisses to your jawline, and down to your neck which he began nipping lightly and sucking at. You dropped your shoulders and tilted your head in a gasp, subconsciously allowing him a better access to your neck.

Butterflies flew in your stomach, your brain screamed He's drunk he doesn't mean this. But your heart beat quickened and your breathing grew short. The feeling was electric, it felt agonising good.

After he presumed he left an appropriate amount of marks on your neck he pulled back and pushed you back against the wall, slowly. He admired his work for a moment lifting a finger to drag over the bruises, tracing an L shape into your skin over them.

"You're mine." He said, looking at you with deep eyes his eyelids hovering as if they were about to close, his face close to yours. "Say it."

You felt your stomach do a flip and your brain short circuit, did he have any clue what he was asking you to say?

"Say it." He commanded again, pushing back into as if he was trying to have as much of you touching him as possible.

"I'm-" your voice got caught for a moment. "I'm yours Liam." You watched him smile, before he glued his lips to yours once again.

***

You felt your stomach churn as you stared at the magazine that sat on the front door step of your apartment, dropped off with the mail of course. You grimaced when you saw his face boldly on the cover, his arm around some blonde girl.

You picked it up with the rest of your mail and held it at your side as you turned and pushed the door open to go inside.

You discarded the mail on a the coffee table in front of your tv, it was none of your interest now that you'd spotted Liam on the front page of a music magazine, which seemed to be dabbling in gossip which you internally groaned at. You looked over the front cover as you sat down on your couch.

You didn't need to read anything, you could tell exactly what was going on in this picture. It was a paparazzi photo of Liam and this girl walking, bold red text beneath it to grab attention, 'Liam Gallagher's new girl friend!?' It almost made you laugh, it also made you want to hurl. You couldn't stomach it as an undeniable pain replaced the amusement on your face.

Confusion, jealousy, and betrayal pierced your heart, it felt sharp. Your stomach felt empty, you knew your face was pale and you felt your hands shake with the magazine clenched between them. You thought he liked you, really liked you.

You'd met him months ago, in September of the previous year, at a festival after your own band played, smaller than Oasis of course but enough to allow you to be a known person in the music industry. He walked right up to you, no shame at all and introduced himself, you knew he had a reputation of being brash and to put it simply, mean, you've seen the things he's said about rivalling bands.

But that knowledge seemed to be lost completely as he used his charms on you, you couldn't help but play along with him, using your wits to have him wrapped around your finger. You fell for him slowly, yet deeply through the months. He'd call you at random times in the night to ask about your day as if he really cared, relentlessly flirt in any situation where you'd see each other out in public wether a festival, pub or an interview. A few times you even ended up sat on a balcony together at parties, just talking about anything that came to your minds. On the count down on New Years you kissed him at some party, away in a garden, as if you were the only two people in the world. He'd whisper sweet nothings to you as if he really meant it, and you knew now that obviously he didn't.

You were mad, you felt used, played, you seriously believed the things he said to you, hell the things he made you say to him. You felt hot with anger, or maybe it was the summer air.

Your eyes welled with tears, which you quickly wiped off with the neck of your tee, but they kept pouring out of your eyes. You let out a breathless sob but bit it back.

In one quick and angry motion you ripped the front cover of the magazine off of it, and crumbled it, fuelling the pain that had you in this state. You threw it across the room as if it would hurt him, you watched it hit a wall and then tumble onto the floor with a crunch.

You crawled to the end of the couch, where your phone sat on a table, you picked up your phone and paused for a moment, you were considering calling his number, to scream and yell at him over the phone but you shamefully swallowed your dignity and tapped in the number of one of your closest friends. A friend who knew everything about you and Liam, because you'd never stop telling her.

The phone rang a few times as you bit at your nails before you finally heard the click of the phone being picked up.

"Justine." You sighed out as you turned to lay on your couch.

She hummed at your pained tone, "You saw the magazine." She stated, knowingly.

You pulled your shirts neck up to up to wipe tears off your face, "I'm a mess."

You heard the phone brush against her hair as she stood up, cupping her hand around the speaker to mumble something to someone, you were curious but ignored it, it was the least of your troubles.

"I was waiting for you to call me, I saw it a few hours ago." Justine spoke empathetic, her boots clicking in the background.

"I just saw it..." you stared at the crumbled up ball of paper in the corner of the room. "Now it's ripped in the corner of my living room, might have to throw some darts at it."

Justine laughed, "There's a few things we can do, deface it, burn it, or both and leave it on his door step."

You chuckled against your tears that continued to spill from your eyes, she could probably tell in the tone of your voice that you were currently crying, but chose to ignore it.

"I don't even want to think about him." You stated, before continuing ironically, "I just don't understand, I thought he really liked me.

"Heartbreak is painful Y/N, but hey at least you never dated him."

"We practically were, you saw the way we were to each other." You sighed dragging a hand over your face.

Justine hummed in acknowledgement, "Yeah you were cute together."

"Not helping, Tina." You stated, you heard her sigh at the nickname.

"But you know damn well the way he acted to other people, I could never see him being romantic." Justine remarked.

You bit on your nail for a moment, the call going silent, she knew you were in thought. The only thing you could mutter out was, "I hate him."

Justine laughed, "Welcome back to the land of the loveless Y/N."

"I'm going to write a song about this." You half heartedly joked, because you knew you definitely were.

***

You rushed off stage, laughing and throwing high-fives around to your band mates. They were sweaty and smelled disgusting, but you gave big hugs anyway.

"That was great guys!" You called as you watched them hurriedly pack their instruments, your drummer just tossing his sticks in his bag and walking off, he was obviously antsy to get some alcohol in his blood and you didn't blame him.

Here you are, at a big outdoor summer festival in London in July, you assumed there were hundreds if not thousands of people out there. You felt exhilarated that those people knew your music, enough to cheer when you walked out on stage and to sing along with you.

Luckily enough you had absolutely killed it, the energy from the crowd was amazing. You smiled around at the roadies that ran around the backstage area, making sure everything was perfect.

Justine walked from a backstage wing, a big smile on her face. "Y/N! That was brilliant!" She threw her arms around you which you immediately reciprocated.

Justine's band, Elastica, had played right before yours, she stayed behind and waiting for you instead of going to get hammered, you appreciated it.

"It's probably the alcohol." You joked, referencing to your confidence as you shamelessly walked over to your guitarist and kissed him. The press would love that, and you must admit you only did it in the small chance Liam would see it.

Justine laughed, "Either way, you're a riot." She threw an arm over your shoulder and began leading you to the stage exit.

"Thanks for waiting for me." You gave her a grateful smile.

"I feel obligated to, I know your own band would ditch you and go do lines in a dumpster somewhere." She joked half heartedly, the both of you knew they'd probably end up in the exact situation.

The two of you stepped out onto the grass backstage area on the Showgrounds, where the bands who played were avoiding the crowds.

The night sky was speckled with a few white stars, there was a haze in the air from a campfire in the middle of the yard, the busses and vans sat randomly around the yard, the way a few of them were parked was very amusing. It was the perfect atmosphere for such an exciting night.

The night itself would've been been perfect if your eyes weren't immediately drawn to none other than Liam Gallagher, you felt your stomach churn and fists curl just at the sight of him nonchalantly sipping on a beer talking casually to a few people.

Justine felt you tense under her arm and gazed over at before following your eyes to the younger Gallagher brother. She frowned and gave you pat on the shoulder, "Just avoid him, if he can't reach you then you'll be fine."

You offered her a sad look, she knew how much he had managed to ruin you. She just rolled her eyes and brought you over to the campfire, grabbed a random cooler and tossed you a beer, "or you could get black out drunk to wash the thoughts of him away."

You smiled sheepishly, "Yeah that sounds better."

You cracked the cap off as Justine surveyed her options of alcohol. You heard the crowd roar as the next band playing walked onto stage, you raised your eyebrows at the sound.

"Whose playing?" You asked as Justine pulled an alcoholic cider from the cooler and slapped the lid down.

"Blur." She stood to her full height, immediately you deviously smiled which caused Justine to roll her eyes with a sigh. "I'm eager to watch Damon play."

You gave her a laugh, "I'm sure you are." Which she rolled her eyes at.

As Damon started singing you watched Justine perk up and she grabbed your hand, "I don't want to miss this, come on."

She pulled you through the tall barricades that separated the bands from people, for a moment you admired the large tarps with drawings all over them that hung over the barricades.

You felt a pair of eyes burning into your back, it made your skin crawl. You knew exactly whose they were, and for a moment you almost considered turning around to stare Liam down, either with a scowl or an innocent look of hurt, either one would send an accurate message through to him.

"Your hand is sweaty." Justine gave you a disgusted look but didn't drop your hand, if she did she faced the possibility of loosing you once you reached the crowd.

"Sorry, nerves." You responded, Justine tipped her head to the beer in your hand, signalling for you to keep drinking.

You eyed the bottle in your hand for a moment before rolling your eyes internally, maybe it was time to finally listen to Justine's advice.

You laughed and threw your head back, gulping down the beer from the bottle.

***

You, Damon and Justine sat on a blanket that you managed to find in the back of your bands bus, it was currently being used to shield you from the grass for whatever reason. The campfire was hot, and still blazing, a band was currently playing, quieter to set the tone of mellowing into the night.

You sipped on a new beer in your hand, tuning in and out of Justine and Damon's shameless flirting, it almost made you cringe but you were a hypocrite, you did the exact same.

You heard some shuffling as the two of them began standing, you frowned for a split second knowing you'd be left alone here.

Justine ran a hand through her hair, "Y/N," she slurred out, "Me and Damon are going too... uh." You watched as her brain tried to form an excuse, they were definitely off to go shag somewhere, or something like that.

"Bar hop!" Damon exclaimed, suddenly more interested in doing that instead of what Justine's tone was suggesting. You watched her shoulders shrug, but it wasn't a bad idea.

"Yeah, sure." She said, as if Damon had asked her the question.

You waved a hand at them, signalling to them, "Have fun, not too much fun." You sent Justine a very obvious wink but you don't think Damon would've seen it in the state he was in.

Justine smiled giddily down at you, you rarely saw her like this, drunk that is, it made her different and you liked to see this side of her.

"Will you be okay on your own?" She asked as Damon threw an arm around her shoulders.

You shrugged, you would be, but you'd be left alone to wallow in self pity, a drink in your hand and countless famous people around you. It was almost embarrassing.

"Have your fun Justine." You spoke as the two of them began walking away. You scrunched your face at it, you knew you and Liam had walked that exact same way before, laughing over nothing and tripping over your own steps. You were jealous, and if jealousy is a disease you were extremely ill.

You watched Damon stop, and send you a call over his shoulder, "Find someone to shag Y/N! Don't waste a perfectly good night!"

You received a few looks from the people around, some amused some beyond sloshed, you felt your face turn red with embarrassment but they just continued walking.

Your gaze focused back down on the half empty drink in your hand, you swirled it around a bit testing it in your mind if you wanted to continue this or find something better to do.

That thing that was better to do was continue to sit here and think about Liam, god you were obsessed, but who wouldn't be? You'd only found out a week ago about his girlfriend and you're still caught up over the butterflies in your stomach when you thought of him, although now there was a new feeling that accompanied them, hurt.

You knew your face must be a delicate somber one, but you didn't care, that was probably the alcohol talking, in any other situation you'd fix yourself up and keep a calm composure.

You felt a weight drop onto the blanket behind you and heard the crunch of the grass, pulling you from your thoughts. You turned your head around to catch a glimpse at whoever was interrupting your pitying thoughts.

"Hello Y/N." You felt your heart pierce and your hand grip the fabric of your pants, hard. Your eyes must of widened and your cheeks white because the mancunian let a chuckle at your expression. "Excited to see me or something?"

You did nothing but stare at Liam, what was this sudden confidence from him, why was he acting like this. You were sure you were scowling at him, you had a lot but nothing to say to him, you'd hadn't talked to him in days.

"Leave me alone Liam." You turned back around, grabbing your beer, you knew you'd need it now, and getting ready to stand, he gripped your wrist before you could, causing you to pull your hand away roughly.

Liam scrunched up his face, "Why have you been avoiding me? Haven't been picking up any of my calls and didn't come talk to me today." As he spoke you could smell the alcohol on his tongue, it was so pungent you thought he must've had countless drinks.

You gave him a glare, "I'm not having this conversation with you Liam." You finally pulled yourself to your feet, sparing him a glance, you couldn't help it. He looked confused, but you were mad, and weren't going to stand being manipulated by the way he looked at you.

You turned and made a B-line for your bus, it would be quiet and dark in there, you'd be able to lay down on one of the benches, cry and fall asleep, that's all you wanted right now.

"Y/N!" You heard him call you, it was slurred and slow. You could hear his quick footsteps behind you, stepping on the lush grass with his massive troll feet, you told yourself that to make yourself feel better.

You were sure the two of you were getting looks as you crossed the yard, but you didn't mind, you were sure Liam looked like an idiot, chasing after a girl while drunk.

Finally, as you just nearly reached your bus he grabbed your shoulder and turned you around with one hand, or maybe you were naturally very listening to his touch, you felt foul at the way your mind betrayed you.

"Come on Darling, what's wrong?" He asked.

You rolled your shoulder and swiped his hand off you. "Don't call me that Liam." You grimaced at him, he took the point but didn't step back.

"We both know you like it." He tried to flirt, which made you even more angrier than you possibly could be.

"Why are you trying to flirt with me? Don't you have a girlfriend you can go call cheesy pet names?" You bitterly spoke.

He went silent, which was unusual because of how loud he was in nature, like a megaphone drawing attention to whoever spoke into it. He looked almost nervous, it looked stupid on him, you wish you could slap that look off his face, or kiss it, your feelings were very complex.

"God you are such a tool!" You shouted, "Your ego is so massive you think you can just pick and choose any girl you want, lead them on like a dog and then ditch them for someone else!"

He looked guilty, but his drunk brain didn't seem to recognise it fully, there was a lot of impulse in his eyes and you didn't like the way he was looking at you with them.

"You cant just treat me like that Liam." You lowered your voice to a quiet talk, you were hurt, you voiced your feelings to him and it felt like ripping a Band-Aid off an unhealed wound.

He stared at you with an unreadable expression, the alcohol in his blood stream smelt putrid.

"I need you."  He emphasised the you, as if he was trying to put emotion into the sentence, but it came off like a useless word in a sentence that could be shortened.

You looked back into his eyes, they screamed truth but you didn't know what to believe with him anymore.

"You're drunk." You said, turning around and fishing your pocket for the key to the shitty rent school bus, before unlocking the bus quickly and slamming the door closed behind you just as quickly.

You felt your eyes well with tears and hurt ache as you quickly ran toward the back, flopping down on a bench in back you let the beer drop to the floor and roll away from you, spilling what was left in it as it went.

You shoved your head into your hands as you let out unsteady breaths and choked back whines.

You hated him, hated him for what he did to you, hated him for things he said to you, hated him for making you believe the feelings were real, but most importantly hated him because you could never hate him, not even a little bit, not even at all.

***

You sipped on the warm cup noodles as you sat on the floor of your living room, lights off and tv on, clad in your pyjamas from the night before still. You were sure you looked small and pathetic like this, but it's not like anyone could see you.

"You warm?" Justine asked, you spared her a look. Ok, well, anyone but her. You nodded as she sat down on the couch you sat in front of, back pressed against it.

It was raining outside, it had been for a couple of days, it felt fitting for your mood, but you were hoping the sun would shine soon, sick of sitting inside all day and collecting dust as if you were an old worn out record.

The tv burned your eyes, making you feel tired, it had been on all day, your only distraction was Justine.

"You're acting depressed." She said, rolling her eyes at you. You smiled up at her, offering her a sorry look.

"I'm not."

"I know you aren't."

You twirled your chopsticks around in your cup before bringing it to your mouth. Justine was lost in thought and it intrigued you, you knew it was important when she got that look on her face.

"What's up?" You asked, mouth full of food. She came back from her trance and looked down at you with a giddy smile.

"Damon kissed me, he asked me out too but he was drunk." She dragged a hand through her hair, "He wouldn't stop talking about how much he liked me, I'm just hoping he calls."

You gasped, feeling lifted by her good news. "When was this!"

"Last night, at some party in the centre of the city." She spoke, cheeks flushed pink.

"What! You need to tell me these things sooner Justine, it's nearly the exact same time the next day!" You spoke, wildly as if her keeping a secret from you was illegal.

She shrugged, "Sorry Y/N, I'm not a pitcher like you that spills whenever she has the chance."

You rolled your eyes at her remark and turned back around to stare at the tv again.

You liked the tv, it made you tired and woozy, it dragged you away from reality and allowed you sit in a world outside your own, like a book but less wordsy.

Your eyes stayed fixed as the channel changed to mtv, Justine with the remote in hand, obviously sick of the last channel you'd been viewing for hours.

Although, your eyes immediately laid on none other than Liam Gallagher, you groaned, why would he always come up at the most inconvenient times, like a ghost haunting you.

Justine laughed at your pained noise, but reached a hand down to ruffle your hair. "He's a knob."

You shrugged your shoulders, as you continued watching. He was getting interviewed, it was one of the ones that tried way too hard to be funny, neither of the brothers were feedings into it, it was almost painful to watch.

"I cant believe you were into that." Justine laughed, which caused you to frown. "Or, I guess still into that." She added on.

You pressed your lips together, you couldn't stand watching this, it made you feel miserable and made your head spin just after you had got it to stop.

"He's so brash, that poor interviewer is trying so hard." She said, emphatically.

You shrugged, "Boneheads doing okay."

"He carry's the bands interviews, and hell the band itself."

You didn't like the Oasis talk, although it was an interesting watch, amusing slightly at the brief moment one of the brothers would say something completely inappropriate.

You listened as the interviewer asked, "And what do you think of Y/N, and her band?" She asks, hopefully getting some sort of sharp and mean comment.

The band went silent, not awkwardly but as if they were thinking, but they weren't, you knew they weren't because you'd done the fake thinking thing to questions you didn't want to answer before either. There was some sort of tension that circled around you, it must be funny because of the smirk that hung on Noel's mouth.

You felt insecure, did Liam tell them about how he was leading you on and you followed blindly? Or was it something worse? Ignorance is bliss.

Liam finally chimed in, "Who?" He asked smugly.

You felt your heart twinge before he laughed it off and continued, "No, that Y/N, I fancy her."

"Are you gonna go for her?" The interviewer asked.

"Nah... she'll go for me."

You swallowed your dignity, Justine sparing you a quick glance.

You were sure you looked miserable, you felt pained just watching that.

"Ok, enough of that." She spoke, flicking the channel.

***

You didn't want to be here, none of your band wanted to, but you stood there awkwardly playing with the hem of your top nervously.

"I hate these record label parties." Matthew, your drummer muttered into a glass of water. You gave him a glance as he grimaced at the lack of taste in the cold liquid.

"I want to be drunk, I'm antsy." Your guitarist, Will chimed in.

The three of you were against the wall in a big party for your record label, it was the biggest label in the UK, which meant there were famous people everywhere. It was hosted in some house, there was music, of course, and flashy lights. There were people with cameras and microphones everywhere, you scowled at how they we're allowed in here, and because of the press being here you weren't allowed to drink and 'make a fool of yourselves' which was what your producer told you.

You were sure your bassist was off trying to get high or something, at least she was having a good night, hopefully.

"I say we ditch." Matthew spoke, as he deliberately spilled a bit of water on the floor to cure his boredom, it got on your shoes.

Will nodded, "This is lame."

You gave the both of them a questioning look, "You're going to risk getting in trouble with the label?" You asked them, they knew it was risky, but probably worth it.

"We'll be fine if you stay here." Matthew replied deviously which made you press your lips together in a silent protest.

"You cant just leave me here!" You whined.

Will shrugged, "You're the front man, you're who they're looking to talk to."

Just before the two of them could leave the wall a camera and microphone were shoved in your faces, you cringed for a moment before putting on a happy attitude, the two boys next to you quietly grimacing.

"Y/N! How's the party?" The lady behind the microphone asked.

"Oh it's great," you replied, sarcasm accidentally dripping from your words, whatever, you thought, I'm not drunk enough to act.

"What's been the highlight of the night?" She asked, overly joyous.

You hummed, "Well not much has happened, has it?" You answered honestly. The boys snickered at your response.

You needed this over, and now, your mouth felt dry from the lack of booze. You spotted your escape route, a (surprisingly) sober Noel Gallagher chatting up a few birds.

"Oh hey, look it's Noel." You looked over at him. It worked, the interviewer walked off in favour of the more popular band.

You huffed out a sigh and leaned against the wall. "I'd rather be home." You grumbled out.

Will laughed, "Well now the label knows we were definitely here at some point, let's go, yeah?" Will and Matthew pushed off the wall to their full heights.

"You two go, we'll be in shit if I don't make more of an effort." The two nodded, and began walking off, placing their cups down on a random table along the way, at moments like these you cursed yourself for being a brilliant frontman.

You looked around the room only to spot other bands exactly in the position you were before. This all felt like a way for the label to make money, you felt materialistic, it make you cringe.

The song that was just playing grinded to a stop, seriously grinded, it was far too long and insufferable. The song after it wasn't any good either, you could tell by just hearing the intro it was a shitty pop song, you couldn't handle another minute of this.

You pushed off the wall and made your way to the kitchen, in a mission to find something to cure the dryness of your throat.

The kitchen was clean, smelt like citrus, unlike any other party that provided the stench of alcohol and a sticky floor from where the drunks spill their drinks, you found it a lot better than the selection of soda, water and punch.

"Has anyone spiked the punch?" You asked, half joking as you moved to grab a cup, a couple of people who you recognised from other bands, specifically Alex James who seemed to eye you up a little bit, laughed at your joke and the inconvenience it was to not being able to get sloshed.

You grabbed a cup, filling it with water, it'll do for now. But you could not rub the eyes of Alex off you.

You lifted your head, giving a questioning look to his shameless staring, he gave a chuckle at that.

"How's the party for you?" He asked, you shrugged, taking a sip from your cup.

"I'm not interested in pleasantries, sorry Alex, that's for when I'm drunk and can't remember my name." You responded, he laughed, he seemed to do that a lot.

"I get it, this is lame." He said as you leaned against the wall next to him, you seemed to be doing a lot of wall leaning tonight, it was really all there was to do.

You decided to spice it, make an interesting conversation for yourself. "You heard about Damon and Justine?" You asked, looking up at him.

He smiled deviously with a brow raised, "Yeah, quite a bit actually."

"She doesn't shut up about him, like I mean it, I know his cock size." You stated bluntly, maybe too bluntly considering this was Alex's best mate you were talking about.

Alex let out a snort and a loud laugh, "Christ, we haven't heard that much."

"We?" You asked.

"The entire band, he tells us everything."

You scrunched your face slightly at that, knowing that all four of them talk about Justine, but you guess it was natural, everyone did it, especially girls.

"You think they're going to make it official?" You asked, knowing they'd try to keep a secret for as long as they could from everyone, especially the press.

"We will find out soon enough." Alex shrugged, causing you to hum in acknowledgment, she would definitely tell you, for Christ sake you're best friends.

"What about you?" Alex asked, curiosity on his tone. You lifted a brow at him in question, which caused him to elaborate, "Dating anyone I mean, any famous musicians?"

He wiggled his eyebrows at you which caused you to cringe and your heart to squeeze.

The wound Liam left behind was still being healed, a dose of turning off the tv when he came on, avoiding him at social events and blocking his number from your home phone helped numb the pain. The one thing you couldn't avoid was him being mentioned, it made your heart sting but it didn't bring tears to your eyes anymore, which you thought was good progress.

"Uh, no, never again." You laughed out, trying to lighten the mood, but it only made Alex give you a questioning look.

"Again?" He asked, you sighed, you'd hope he was dumb enough to not catch onto your poor wording.

You looked at him, he seemed curious, what was the point of lying? It wasn't like you didn't know Alex, you'd spoken to him plenty of times, you knew the news wouldn't get far from him, probably to the rest of Blur but that's where it would stop, celebrities were always careful with these things.

"Uh, Liam Gallagher." You looked away as if, if you didn't, you would regret saying it.

Alex choked on his breath of air, coughing in shock and raising a hand to his chest. "What?" He coughed out. "You talked to Liam Gallagher? Like, Oasis Liam, the arsehole."

You smiled at his insults solemnly, before taking a sip of your water to allow yourself to drown your heavy thoughts.

"Yeah, for awhile, it was serious, well to me it was. I got to see a different side of him no one else did, kind, sweet and compassionate, hell I'd stay up late talking on the phone with him almost every night, I even gave him my new years kiss." You spilled, you didn't want to but it came pouring out like a flood.

Alex gave you a sad look, "What ended it?" He asked.

"He got a girlfriend, it wasn't surprising, very much so, it hurt like fuck, it still does."

"What an arse." Alex remarked.

"Cunt." You bluntly stated.

"So no dating anyone famous for awhile?" He cheekily asked, raising the mood effortlessly. You smiled over at him.

"Dream on, Alex James."

The two of you chatted for awhile, about random things like how music production was going for the both of your bands and spilling secrets you'd heard about other people in your scene. Eventually at some point Alex decided that a pub down the street was a much better place right now, and you knew he would probably run into Mathew and Will down there.

You stood against the wall on your own now, water nearly empty, which is exactly how your stomach felt. You didn't knowing spilling your feelings would feel so relieving, but it was, and you were grateful for the opportunity.

As you stood there, you noticed a glass sliding door on the other side of the kitchen, the perfect escape from a stuffy party with cameras everywhere.

You pushed yourself off the wall, making a b-line for the door, ignoring the people calling your name, eager for an interesting conversation. Once you'd reached it, you pulled the sliding door open and quickly shut it behind you, sucking in a deep breathe of the fresh air.

The balcony was a welcome escape, it was fresh, it was relaxing, it allowed you to be on your own with the worry of being reported as an anti social snob, when in reality all you wanted to do was drink.

You leaned forward onto the railing, taking in the lack lustre view of the city, internally you wished it was something else, a forest maybe, but you'd grown accustomed to the bright lights that lit up the night sky. It was never dark in London.

Although the short amount of time you were enjoying yourself was quickly ruined as the putrid and thick scent of cigarette smoke wafted around you and into your nostrils. You gave a cough as you waved your hand in front of your hand.

"Care for a hit?" A Manchester accent asked you, it made your skin crawl. You looked at the culprit just see exactly who you recently were talking about. It mad your angry, but with that anger came a sense of tiredness.

You were sick of hating him, sick of not being to get him out of your mind, sick of feeling a pierce when his name was mentioned, sick of avoiding him. It was as if he had plagued you. Although the grudge was hard to hold when you didn't see a point into holding it anymore, when your arms got weak and all you wanted to is forget.

"I'm going back inside." You spoke, standing to your full height.

"No, stay." Liam spoke, more of a demand.

You gave him a look over your shoulder, shamelessly taking in the state of him. He seemed fine, of course he was, happy and famous with a pretty blonde girlfriend. He held a cigarette in his hand and wore a long tshirt, different than his usual parka, but you assumed it was too hot.

And you did, you stayed where you were, turning your head back around and deciding you could just ignore him.

It was awkward, painfully, you wondered if he remembered anything from that night almost two weeks ago. The tension in the air was thick, it was harder to breathe than his cigarette smoke.

Your hands clenched and unclenched around the railing due to your nerves. It was very obvious, you didn't care though, he already read it on your face.

"I saw you talking to Alex James, the blur twat." Liam spoke, nonchalantly, but you knew there was more feelings, there always was which was what he told you back in December over the phone during a late night deep talk.

"Yeah I was." You responded, trying to stay stoic.

"Why?" He asked, you didn't like how he was questioning you, it made your shoulders hurt as if you were carrying each word he said on them.

"Gossip." You stated blankly, trying to finish the conversation.

You heard him shuffle, before he stood next to you, his back leaning against the railing, the opposite direction to you. You took a step away, making it clear you were not enjoying this.

"What's with you?" He asked. You gave an angry look, one that screamed seriously? Are you kidding? He seemed to be taken aback by it, but he didn't stop. "You haven't been answering my calls either, I'm confused Y/N."

"Do you remember the festival?" You asked spitefully, staring up at him.

He shook his head, "Christ no, I was sloshed."

"Yeah you were." You scowled, "So sloshed that you decided to try to flirt with me."

Liam sent you a look, one with a mixture confusion and annoyance. "What's so wrong with that? We always do that! Every time we are together."

"You have a girlfriend!" You shouted, which made him widen his eyes. "You used me as some sort of validation for months! Hell, nearly a year! I thought you liked me, a lot! But I was horrifically mistaken. You made me feel like a teenager who got used just for attention, and I should've noticed through the way you never asked me out."  You let it all out, to his face, a finally sober Liam who would actually be able to react to this.

Your hands were hot on the railing, and so was your face, your brain screamed get up and leave and stomach churned as if you were to be sick. You heart ached like it never had and you felt tears began to fall down your face.

"Did you see the magazine?" He asked, empathetically, his hands were shaking, they moved as if they wanted to hold you, and that made your feelings go blunt until they were sad, the adrenaline rush over.

You nodded, and let out a quiet "Yes." voice embarrassingly revealing you were crying.

Liam sighed, and took a puff of his cigarette before dragging his hand over his face, tossing the cigarette off the balcony and onto the ground below. You watched the ash die, it felt metaphorical.

"Y/N, are you an idiot?"

"What?" You asked, painfully, it felt like he was grabbing the knife in your chest and twisting it.

"Do you seriously believe everything you see in the press?"

"Wha-"

He cut you off, and continued on, "She was a distant family friend, never met her before that day. She needed a place in London to stay and me mother urged me to let her stay. Only had my arm around her in that picture to avoid the street traffic without getting lost."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, you felt like an idiot, a real fucking fool. Your pain and anger for the last few months were all for nothing, over a stupid reason.

"She was well a cunt too." He laughed, trying to lighten the mood, "She hated the paparazzi, tried to make me tell them to go away. She was gone in less than day, found some other place to stay." He shrugged.

You sighed loudly, pressing your head into your hands as you leaned forward. You were embarrassed, badly, you were so hurt over something you'd seen on a magazine, blocked his number and didn't even let him explain, you felt stupid, really badly. You didn't want to move and look him in the eyes, so you stayed the way you were.

"Y/N?" He asked, looking down at you.

"I'm embarrassed Liam." You mumbled.

Liam laughed and placed a hand onto your back, it made you shudder, but it was a good feeling, finally.

"Look at me, would ya?" He asked, and you obliged, slowly pushing yourself and looking at him.

He smiled at your expression cheeks hot, and probably slightly tear stained. He lifted a hand to your face and wiped the tears that kept spilling from your eyes away.

"I'm a down right fool." You stated, and adverted your eyes from him.

"Yeah, you are." He replied feeding into your embarrassment, which you didn’t appreciate.

He placed both of his hands on your shoulders, staring down at you, his gaze was burning, but it didn’t feel judgemental, which is something you’d never assume from the Gallagher brother.

He pulled you in by your shoulders into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around your neck and tucking his head into your shoulder. For a moment you didn’t process it, but you wrapped your arms around his torso, leaning into him as well.

For a moment you stayed like this, it was nice, it brought you back to life like the snow melting into spring. You sighed, your tears on your cheeks soaking into his shirt, he didn’t seem to mind.

“I could not stop thinking about you Y/N. The entire time you were away from me I could not stop…” he searched his brain for the appropriate word, “longing.” He finally finished.

He pulled away slightly, enough to look down at you and see your face.

You laughed light heartedly, “Every time I thought of you it made me sick, I was so mad.”

Liam frowned at what you said, “I should’ve told you.”

You shook your head, “You didn’t have to, it’s not like we were dating.”

You both paused, looking at each others faces, the topic of dating had never come up between the two of you before, sure at some point he made you say that you were his, but that was never brought up after that.

You felt like you were in an unreal situation as Liam’s face contorted a bit into a nervous look. You knew the boy was brash, and had a hard outer shell, but you get to see him in a different way, a way not many have seen before, you felt like you had the biggest secret locked away in your mind and heart. You wonder what was so special about you for him to act like this.

“Why have you never asked me out Liam?” You asked, impulsively.

His eyebrows knitted upwards, “Look at you Y/N. You’re everything and more, I can’t help but turn into a different person when you’re around, flirty and soft.” He grumbled out the last bit, which made you smile.

“This person I am, is so different, I’m just not used to it, but I like it, I like knowing I can love, and in return be loved.” He spoke solemnly, pausing for a second to breathe in with a shudder, “You change me, for the better, I became more calm and relaxed, it was something new, but I liked it, because I knew it meant that I had you. But I was so nervous, how could I not be when you could have anyone you pointed at?”

You laughed breathlessly as he spilled, “Liam do I have to remind you what you made me say?”

Liam gave you a confused look, you just smiled fondly.

“I’m yours, Liam.” You stated, and his face went red, he seemed to move his eyes over your face as if you were being sarcastic.

“Oh dear god.” He spoke out in a whisper as he didn’t find a trace of a lie in your eyes.

You lifted yourself onto your tippy toes, and leaned close to him, “I missed you.” You stated.

He just stared at you, before closing the gap and pressing a passionate kiss full of confessions, longing and love, to your lips.

His hands dropped to your waist, and yours to the back of his head, slotting into his soft hair nicely. This was familiar, this was missed.

The two of you pulled away, a giddy smile on your face and flushed cheeks on his.

“Will you go out with me Y/N?” He asked, moving a hand to cradle your face.

You made an expression, as if you were thinking.

“Hmm.. no.” You said.

His eyes widened and his face dropped, he swallowed a lump in his throat.

You couldn’t stand seeing him like that had to end the torture quickly, you laughed and shook your head, “I’m joking Liam, I will, I swear.”

His face brightened again, like a child’s, it looked silly on him, but you liked it, you liked everything about him.

“Fuck you Y/N.”

***

You twirled your hair on your finger as you picked your telephone up and tapped the numbers you had memorised into the keypad. It rang for a second before you heard plastic moving on the other side.

“Hello?” You heard Justine call on the other side of the phone.

“Hi Justine.” You greeted, a smile on your face.

“You sound happy, what’s happened?” She said, as you heard her move to sit down on her couch.

“You need to hear me out.” You spoke, with a sheepish tone, knowing that Justine would interrupt you and get angry if she didn’t hear the entire story.

“Me and Liam are going out, turns out he didn’t have a girlfriend, it was some family friend who didn’t end up being on his good side for long. I ran into him last night on a balcony at that shitty label party, I got a bit angry and had a yell at him, and he was finally sober enough to explain himself. Turns out he’s been trying to call me, and your advice on blocking his number could’ve saved me from the torture my conscience has put up with this last month.” You stated with a giggle at the end, too happy to let anything get you down. “The press blew that picture of him and the girl up, it was stupid and I believed it.”

You heard some shuffling on the other side of the phone, a laugh, one that was definitely not Justine’s could be heard, it was a lads, but you didn’t have time to ask before she sighed loudly.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Is that Damon?”

[guerrerense]

Ex-LMS Stanier 8F 2-8-0 no. 8274 moves through the shed yard at Barrow Hill MPD on 24th September 2015. (EXPLORED) por Ian Duffield Por Flickr: 8274 - Barrow Hill 24-09-2015 IMG_0541bw TLE event

[lonestarflight]

The Space Shuttle Enterprise (Orbiter Vehicle 101) on the runway after the first free flight of the Shuttle Approach and Landing Tests (ALT) at the Dryden Flight Research Center in Southern California, 12th August 1977. The shuttle separated from a Boeing 747 Shuttle Carrier Aircraft (SCA) and carried out a short unpowered flight and landing. On board are astronauts Fred Haise Jr (commander) and C Gordon Fullerton (pilot), who have not yet emerged from the shuttle.

Date: August 12, 1977

NASA ID: EC77-8334, EC77-8271, EC77-8272, EC77-8275, EC77-8274

source, source

1288600959

[gnsparkebursa]

Krono Original Super Natural Modena Oak 8274 Laminat Parke

[oneterabyteofkilobyteage]

original url http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/Hangar/8274/ last modified 2007-10-06 19:17:34