#band launch poster

[hairmetal666]

By the grace of Robin Buckley, Steve gets into college.

She's his first real friend and it's because he knows her, loves her, learned to be a better person from her, that he's able to smile politely and take the hand of his new roommate. His long-haired, tattooed, dressed in all black roommate, who has already put up dark and menacing posters of bands Steve has never heard of and a bedsheet banner with the words "Corroded Coffin" painted on the fabric.

"Eddie Munson," his roommate says.

"Steve Harrington."

"Good to meet you, roomie." Eddie smiles so big it makes dimples pop. It's a good look. "Parents on the way with the rest of your stuff?"

"Oh, er--just me, actually."

Eddie's smile doesn't waiver. "Need some help?"

Normally, Steve would say no, but he just spent the last hour unloading Robin's stuff. "That would be great, thanks."

So, they work together to get Steve moved in, and as they work, he learns more about his roommate. He is a weirdo, an oddball, fundamentally strange, but Steve can't help but be charmed.

Eddie puts on music, something aggressive with loud guitars and drums, and Steve unpacks. He pulls out a picture of himself with the kids during one of their game nights, displaying it carefully on his desk.

"Wait," his new roommate says. "You? And the dnd children?"

Steve laughs. "They're the kids I babysit. You play that nerd game?"

Eddie's nose wrinkles. Something in the back of Steve's mind notes that it's cute. "Nerd game? Dnd is So. Much. More. It's--it's storytelling and strategy and--" Eddie stops, blinking at Steve. "You're fucking with me, aren't you?"

"Little bit," Steve smiles.

"I can't believe you know dnd. That you babysit nerds. You look like such a jock," Eddie shakes his head in disbelief.

"I am a jock," Steve agrees. "And I love those dorky little shitheads. I tolerate the game."

"Steve Harrington. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Guess so." The smiles they share are wide and sweet, bringing out Eddie's dimples in way that makes Steve long to touch.

After that, they're inseparable. Robin and Eddie and Steve. They study, eat, go to parties, hangout; anything, as long as they're together.

---

Three weeks into the semester, as Steve gets dressed after swim practice, he pulls a shirt out of his bag that doesn't belong to him. It's a black tee, Metallica logo front and center. He chuckles, puts it on. It's soft from wear and smells of laundry detergent and Eddie--cigarettes and leather and some kind of sweet musk. The scent puts him at immediate ease.

He meets Robin and Eddie for lunch. They were early, already have their food and seats, so he walks over to drop off his backpack. Eddie gives him a bright, dimpled smile, but within seconds his mouth is falling open a little, the tips of his ears turning bright red.

"You alright, man?" Steve asks.

Eddie startles, grabs his cup, jamming the straw into his mouth to chew at the plastic."You're--my shirt?" he says.

"Oh, shit. Sorry. Grabbed it by accident. I'll wash it for you."

His roommate flushes pink. "N--no, you don't have to worry about it."

He wants to question Eddie further--he's being so weird--but Robin interrupts. "Dingus! Go get food. Hurry up!"

He does as he's told, but when he comes back, Eddie is even redder than before, and Robin has a wide smirk across her face.

"What is going on with you two?" He asks as he puts his tray down.

Neither of them answer, andEddie launches into a passionate re-telling of some music student drama, so Steve let's himself be distracted.

---

It's mid-October and Steve's coming home from the gym, the one place that Robin and Eddie refuse to accompany him. As he nears his room, he hears music. It's not heavy metal, but something soft and slow and acoustic.

He tries to be quiet as he unlocks the door and enters, doesn't want to disturb Eddie, doesn't want him to stop playing. He never practices when Steve is home, says he doesn't want to be a bother with the noise.

Eddie's sitting on his bed, guitar in hand. There's a battered notebook open next to him, a pencil held between his teeth. He hums a bit, pauses to jot something down, and goes back to playing.

He looks beautiful, Steve thinks, bent over his guitar.

Steve is just about to announce himself when Eddie stops playing again. He writes something in the notebook before resting his head in his head. "Pathetic, Munson. Get it together," he mutters.

"Hi!" Steve says. It startles Eddie, who jumps and almost drops the guitar.

"Stevie!" Eddie stumbles to his feet. "I--uh--you're home!" His face is crimson.

"You're really good, man," Steve says. "I'd love to hear more sometime."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," Eddie nods his head, grabbing for the notebook and slamming it closed. "Sure thing." He stuffs his feet into his Reeboks. "I gotta--I gotta go. Back soon."

Eddie stumbles out their door, notebook clenched firmly in hand.

He is so weird.

---

In mid-November, Robin gets invited to a party by a cute girl. They all go.

Steve isn't trying to hook up. He hasn't slept with anyone since they started school, too caught up with Robin and Eddie. But there's a girl, wavy brown curls and wide green eyes (he has the fleeting thought that they should be deep brown, that it's wrong that they aren't), and she's smiling at him.

Flirting with her is easy.

He doesn't know what breaks his concentration, but he turns to face the rest of the room, eyes falling on Eddie. Eddie who is watching him, his deep brown eyes swimming with hurt, with anger.

It sends a shock of pure panic up his spine. "Eddie!"

Eddie turns on his heel, disappearing in the crowd. Steve follows, but by the time he navigates through the partygoers, his roommate is nowhere to be found. He hurries back to their dorm, heart pounding in his ears, mouth dry.

It's dark in the room, though, and for a second he thinks Eddie isn't home, after all. But he turns on the light, illuminates the rigid lump under Eddie's quilt.

"Eddie?" Steve says, voice soft.

He doesn't respond, though Steve can tell he's awake. He tries again, but Eddie curls deeper under his covers.

Steve spends the night wondering what he did to hurt Eddie so bad.

---

They're back to normal after Thanksgiving. Steve is so relieved he doesn't even ask.

They stay up all night every night studying for finals. By the time Steve's last test rolls around, he's giddy and frantic. He grabs his textbook, shoves a notebook into his backpack, gets to the English building with just enough time to take a last look at his notes.

Only, he flips the notebook open and it's not his English notes. It's song lyrics.

Steve should close it. Put it back in his backpack. It's private. But he's already reading the lyrics written there. They're sexy. The song's about a guy, one Eddie seems to be totally gone for.

A line catches his eye, "need you on every surface in our room." He reads it again and again until the only thing he can see is the phrase, "our room." His whole body is warm, heat pooling, and he's chubbing up in his jeans in the middle of his English class.

Steve flips the pages, anything to get his mind off of that song, and that's when it hits him like a ton of bricks. All those weird moments--the t-shirt, the song, Steve flirting with a girl-- Eddie likes him.

Steve wants to rush to the dorm, wants to confess everything, even starts to stand, but--he has a final to take.

He makes himself close the notebook, but catches sight of another song as he does. It's a love song. It's plaintive and yearning and wanting. And every lyric is for him, about him, about things they did together. It's also unfinished, breaking off mid-way through the second verse.

He doesn't know how he missed it before, but as the professor hands out the test paper, Eddie is all he can think of.

---

When he finally gets back to the room, he finds Eddie's frantic, hair frizzed around his skull. All his bedding is on the floor, the drawers of his wardrobe pulled open.

"Eddie?" Steve asks.

"Have you seen my notebook?"

"What?" Steve's heart drops.

"The black one? It's kind of beaten up?"

"I--uh, yeah. Sorry, Eds. Accidentally grabbed it on my way to class." He pulls his backpack from his shoulder, unzipping it.

"Did you--did you read it?" Eddie's voice shakes, his face painfully red.

Steve doesn't know what to say, what to do. He wants Eddie. Has for a long time, just hadn't been able to put it together. And he doesn't know how to fix what's spiraling out between them.

"Eddie," he says. Can think of nothing else, hopes his desperation is clear in his voice. "Please." He closes the distance between them, slowly, carefully. Cups Eddie's chin in his hand.

They stare at each other, Eddie's eyes wide with shock. Steve can feel the other man's breath on his face, smell the tobacco and sweet musk scent of him.

"Every surface of our room, huh?" Steve asks.

Eddie's cheeks flush. He turns away, bashful. "Something like that."

"And if I want it too?" Steve whispers.

The words hang between them for several beats, before they both move to close the lingering distance between them. Their mouths slip together, like it's nothing, like they do this all the time. Steve grasps at Eddie's curls, fists a hand into his t-shirt, totally lost to the rhythm of the kiss, the easy slip of Eddie's tongue in his mouth.

Eventually, the come up for air, both pink cheeked and panting.

"You're full of surprises, Steve Harrington." Eddie breathes.

"Just wait," Steve smirks, moves in to nip at Eddie's bottom lip. "We have so many surfaces."

[sports-on-sundays]

Okay so 🤭 what if Y/N use to be with ( whatever Barca player you choose ) and they broke it off because they supposedly wanted to focus on their career and the reader was really heartbroken and omg to make it more better y/n is Carlos sister and then she sees or hear how they moved on already! And little by little she starts to be with lando and they announce their relationship when he wins in Miami!! Like full on hard launch. 😭🙌🏽

Also this got me motivated to think of more ideas ima write them down for the future 🤭

papaya girl / LN4

Summary: ex!Ferran x Sainz!baker!reader x Lando - After a devastating breakup with your footballing boyfriend, you think you'll never be able to date someone again.

Warnings: there's a golf scene and I don't golf so-!🤞, mention of sickness, foul language, sorry if some things are not accurate, headache, partying/dancing/drunkenness/clubbing, mention of getting so drunk you had no memory of what happened, implied getting drunk to dampen emotions, getting injured, vomiting, slight soulmate feel, a bit of suggestive talk, use of babe/baby/bae/baby girl/etc., I feel like every kiss I describe is exactly the same sooo- sorry about that! ✌

Requested?: YES! 😘

Author's Note: Do you ever write something so good that you wish you could make it into a movie? That's how I feel about this. I can imagine the scenes. Didn't plan it but I guess 24 is the magic number for this one. I made the request more dramatic because... I like doing that... 👉 👈 🥺 ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST. PERFECT MIX OF ANGST AND FLUFF. I LITERALLY LOVE YOU! If you do have any more ideas and you're up for it, let me know!

When you met Ferran Torres, you were a Madridista with a passion for Ferrari. Being a Sainz, you've always been rooting for Real Madrid, but your favorite Formula 1 team isn't as consistent. Because before that, you were a McLaren fan. And before that, Red Bull. And everything else before that, too.

Wherever Carlos is, you're a fan of it.

You, quite literally, on the day you met Ferran, were wearing a Cristiano Ronaldo jersey and a backwards Ferrari cap.

And, well, he, a new arrival from Manchester City, liked that, apparently!

And it was beautiful. They way you slowly became closer and closer, growing to know each other more and more.

And then, maybe you just hit a point. Hit a point in your relationship where you wanted more, and Ferran realized that if any more was given by him, it would be too far for him.

And he cut it off. Said he was doing well in Barcelona. He had high hopes. You, a sold out Madrid fan, had been wearing his number on the back of a blaugrana jersey. And despite that blaugrana jersey, he ditched you.

He said his work, his career, his passions, his dreams, were more important than you.

But you can't complain, Y/n. That's fair. He was gentle in letting you know. He made it clear he didn't want any malice between you and him.

You roll over in bed, staring vacantly at your wall. There's a large Real Madrid flag hanging in the middle. A smaller Ferrari flag on one side. A few posters of bands and teams you like or events you've been to, signed by different celebrities. People who are more famous than 'Carlos Sainz Jr.'s sister' or 'Ferran Torres's ex-girlfriend.' On one side, it seems silly to have a poster signed by Max Verstappen, but you do. On the other side of the flag, you have a peeling old McLaren poster, showing the younger versions of Carlos and his former racing partner, Lando Norris, looking just seconds away from breaking into a loud, hysterical laughter.

And next to that, you have a Barcelona poster.

You smile sadly to yourself.

I must look like such a conflicted sports fan.

You stand up, walking over to the wall. After gently peeling the Barcelona poster off the wall, you slowly trace the badge with your fingers, any hint of a smile now gone as tears begin to fill your eyes, threatening to fall.

"This is stupid," you murmur scornfully, your voice cracking softly. "This isn't even my team! It's not my city...!" You toss the poster across the room, leaving it in a place where you don't intend to pick it up anytime soon.

Let it gather dust and crumple. That's what Ferran did. He threw away our relationship like it was nothing but a worthless piece of paper. And now I'm suffering the consequences.

You sigh. You're trying not to let yourself be bitter. You want to look back on everything you and Ferran had and be happy. Appreciate it. You still love Ferran. You don't want to be angry with him.

Someone said to you once, Hurt heals with time, as long as you let it.

You grab a bold, red Sharpie from your drawer and your notebook from a dresser. You scribble those words in all caps, rip out the page, grab some tape, and hang the piece of paper where the FC Barcelona poster used to be.

You sigh, but nod, before turning to get ready for your day.

You hate winter. You never hated winter before this winter, but now you hate it.

With the breakup, you've been avoiding anything La Liga like the plague, even if it doesn't involve Ferran Torres. It just reminds you too much.

And with Carlos on winter break, getting ready for the start of the season, he's not around much. Going on different trips, he's quite busy. Which you don't like. You and your brother have a strong bond.

It's not like you don't have anything to do. You just don't have anything interesting to do. You have a shop that you run, but you have enough staff hired to not have to be there all the time.

Yes, in a family of racing, you were never too into it. Your strong spot is in baking and business running, so that's why you opened up a bakery in Madrid.

And being a Sainz, of course it was a success.

Same type of thing as Charles Leclerc's 'LEC,' except you're not the racing driver Charles Leclerc, you're not doing ice cream, and you've always been doing this, for five years now.

You watch as a young, excited couple walks in, jabbering away in English. You can just tell they're tourists as they get in line to order. Once they get to the counter, the woman immediately leans over the counter in excitement, saying, "Is Carlos Sainz here?" in English.

You chuckle. Sounds American. "Which Carlos Sainz?" you tease.

They look blankly at you as if you're just about the dumbest individual to walk planet Earth. You chuckle and say, "Why don't you get to ordering? There's a line."

Towards the afternoon, as things begin to quiet down just a little bit, you look up at the doorbell jingles and freeze.

When he reaches the counter, you snap at Ferran, "Why are you in Madrid?"

"Am I not allowed to be? Either way, hello to you, too."

You sigh, licking your lips as you study the Valencian boy. "What can I get for you?"

He shrugs and orders, before seating himself down at one of the seats at the counter. "How have you been, Y/n?" he asks.

"Fine," you swallow, staring down. "And you?"

"I'm good." From there, he begins just talking, as if we're old friends or something, and not exes.

He seems so happy. So content.

To not be with you.

Suddenly, mid-way through one of his many sentences, you slip your hand over his, almost on impulse. He stops, staring to your hands, and then to you.

You breathe softly, "Why? Why did you come here to just talk to me? Aren't you moved on? Ferran, this is torture for me."

Lines crease into his face. You can see him swallow, looking at your smaller hand on his. "I'm... I'm sorry. I am moved on. I'm doing well. I just thought maybe we could be friends. I'd never want to date you again; I'm not in the place to date anyone. I'm happy single. But I just feel bad. I know you're hurt, and... I'd be happy to still be friends with you, is all?" He slips his hand out from underneath yours and takes his cup of coffee with it, taking a sip as he watches you intently.

You drag a hand over your face. Though you didn't want to admit it, seeing him come in to the bakery gave you hope. That maybe he wanted to try again. But those words that came out of his mouth? They cut deep.

"Listen, Ferran," you barely whisper. "I'm still trying to work through what happened. Everything. It's hard for me. But I appreciate it, and when I'm ready, if I'm ever ready, I'd love to be your friend. O- Okay?"

He nods slowly, staring down. "Alright... Fair enough."

"What's wrong?" your older brother, Carlos, asks. You watch outside the window as the world travels by.

You sigh. "Ferran."

"Him, again?"

"Carlos," you sigh. "Stop. It's nothing new. I'm just missing him. He wants to stay friends, but I said I needed time."

"Ah. Well, you know, I did tell you never to date-"

"-a Barcelona player. I know," you roll your eyes with a little smile.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Hurt heals with time, as-"

"-long as you let it. I know," you comment, smiling a bit wider.

"Exactly. It'll come."

You sigh. "I hope so."

As Carlos pulls into the parking lot, you say, "So. Is that why you decided to take me golfing with your friends? Just wanted to check up on me, but you never have the time to sit down over dinner these days?"

Carlos smiles as he shuts off the car. "No. I could have made time. But I wanted your company golfing."

"You know I'm not big on g-"

"Shut up," he grins. "Yes you are."

"I suck."

"Not as bad as some people I know. In fact, you're actually pretty okay."

Soon, you meet up with a bunch of Carlos's friends. They're all chatting, and you're just kind of zoning off, looking out over the grassy hills, when suddenly you look up when Carlos says, "Ay! Lando!"

You blink in complete and utter shock. "Why is Lando Norris here?"

As Lando approaches, he eyes you, saying teasingly, "Well, thank you for the warm welcome, Y/n Sainz."

"Lando was just around, so he made the drive to meet us here," Carlos quickly fills in.

Soon, you're all off. After a round, as you're walking back to the cart to go get lunch, Carlos says, nudging Lando, "I think my baby sister is better than you."

Lando laughs. "You fucking muppet; what are you talking about?"

You grin, falling in step with Lando and Carlos. "I'm a better golfer."

"That is just wrong," Lando says, glancing at you. "Downright wrong."

"It's a Sainz thing," Carlos puts in. "There's no way for you to beat us, Lando. You can't. Winning runs in the family."

Lando rolls his eyes, reiterating, "Your baby sister is not better than me."

"You have no right to call me a baby," you put in indignantly. "I'm probably older than you."

Lando looks at you, his nose all scrunched up. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

"Hah! Same age."

"That still doesn't mean you get to call me a baby!"

"Her birthday is in January; different year than Lando's. Lando, you can call her a baby; you're older," Carlos says.

"Carlos!" you snap. "Don't give him permission!"

Carlos grins and shakes his head as he breaks off to chat with some of his other friends and get on the cart with them.

Lando grins, giving a discreet pat on your lower back as he murmurs, "Sorry, baby."

And for some reason, that makes you feel things. You decide to blame it on the fact that Lando's just good-looking.

Once you're all seated down with your lunch, you comment, "So what's with the whole..." your hand goes to your chin, referring to his facial hair, as you look at Lando expectantly.

Lando slams down his fork, saying lightheartedly, "Sick of people asking me that!"

You smirk. "Makes you look like you're forty."

"Whatever, baby."

"You know, I have a picture on my wall of you and Carlos when you were just babies, too."

As soon as Lando raises an eyebrow with a smirk, you know it was a mistake to word it that way. "You have a picture of me and Carlos on your wall?" he asks, mock condescendingly.

"No, no. I mean, I do, but- It's just an old McLaren poster." You immediately look down.

"What, are you a fan of mine?" Lando teases further.

"No! I'm a fan of Carlos, and you just so happened to be his teammate at that time. The point is that you two look like pipsqueaks in that photo! Lando, you looked so awkward, with all your acne-"

"What, Lando, you think she's a McLaren fan? She's sold out for Ferrari," Carlos interrupts.

"Literally! I deck myself out in red every Sunday!"

"Today's Sunday," Lando starts like the stupid idiot he is, "And I don't see you wearing red."

You groan, leaning back, covering your face in your hands. "Carlos, how are you this guy's friend? He's so annoying! Why'd you invite him for? How do you put up with him?"

Carlos just smirks, patting your shoulder, and says, "I'm used to having to put up with irritable people, after having to grow up with you."

You roll your eyes, fighting off a smile as all the guys around you at the table laugh out loud.

On the car ride back, you're mostly silent, your thoughts swimming with one thing and one thing only.

Lando Norris.

And there's a soft smile on your face as you think about your morning with him.

But Carlos can tell you're deep in thought. Usually, you'd be yapping away right now. "Anything on your mind?" he asks carefully.

You sigh. "Not much."

"You're bad at lying. You're staring out the window dreamily. What's on your mind?"

You sigh. "It's stupid. You'll make fun of me."

"I'm not stupid, though. I can already guess what it is."

You gulp. "How?"

"For the whole day, the only person you talked to was Lando."

You feel your stomach drop. "It's nothing serious, Carlos. He's just funny."

"You said something like that to me about Ferran Torres right before you officially started dating."

That makes you feel a bit sick. "Carlos, I won't let that happen again."

"Don't. And don't be getting interested in anyone until you're over your ex. And we both know you're not. And please don't be getting interested in someone like Lando."

"Why?" You eyebrows scrunch together. "I thought you two were buddies."

Carlos grins teasingly. "If you somehow got yourself with him, there would always be two annoying people in one place."

"You're intolerable!" you snap, laughing.

"You are too, hermana."

It strikes Carlos as strange when the first thing Lando says to him the weekend of Bahrain, before even a hello, is: "Is your sister here?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Lando shrugs. "She's nice."

"No... She'll be coming to Australia, though..." Carlos can't help but feel suspicion fill his chest. He's always been somewhat protective of you, being his little sister and all.

"Perfect," Lando grins, and he's off.

In Australia, like any other race, you're decked out in your red. Ferrari hat, Ferrari jacket, red jeans. Ferrari earrings. Even your black shoes have a stripe of red on the sides.

Carlos always tells you it's dumb. But it's become a part of your whole thing, since you spend a huge amount of your life following Carlos around and going to Grand Prixs.

It's fun sometimes, being Carlos Sainz Jr.'s sister!

But when you see a shock of papaya in your red world called Ferrari's hospitality, you squint, slipping your sunglasses up on your hat, and say, "Who said you could walk in like that uninvited?"

"No one," Lando grins, "but I'm only here to see you."

Your eyebrows raise as you stand up. "Wha-"

"Come with me. I'm going to barf if I have to breathe Ferrari air any longer. Just your terrible get-up is making me nauseous. I guess I'll be free from seeing that stupid outfit next year when Carlos isn't in Ferrari-"

"Oh, shut it, you!" you snap, but follow him with a grin on your face.

"So you broke up with your Barcelona man?" Lando start, cutting straight to the chase.

"Uh-" you swallow. "He broke up with me."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

You're not sure why Lando wants to know, and he certainly doesn't have any reason to know, but still you say, "We had been dating for a while, you know? I wanted something more. You know, to go deeper. Someday, I'd love to even maybe get married. But, Ferran... well, he didn't want to go the step deeper. Said he wanted to focus on his career. He broke it off. We're on fine terms, though."

"Ah..." he nods slowly. "That sounds like a tough breakup."

"Yeah... Yeah, it was."

He continues nodding, and catches your eye before saying, "So I'm assuming you want to... you know, you won't be up for any more relationships any time soon? Lot to work through?"

You suddenly feel your face begin to heat up. "Uh, well- depends on who it is, I suppose," you blurt without thinking.

"Hm?" He raises an eyebrow. A little smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Well, considering the fact that your face is just about as red as that Ferrari hat on your head, I'm wondering what you think of me."

You swallow, feeling even more embarrassed. "Are you suggesting...?"

"If you're up for it, the night after the Grand Prix, you can meet me at my hotel room, and we'll go from there. Text me if you decide 'yes,' for the details."

"I don't have your numb-"

He gives a cute little smile and opens his hand to reveal a folded up piece of paper. "Now you do. See you later, Miss Sainz!"

You stand, dumbfounded, as he jogs off.

"Oh my God, Carlos! Well done! So well done! Oh my God!" you scream in the midst of your strings of excited swear words, in both Spanish and English. "Did you actually just win the Australian Grand Prix?!"

He grins as he kisses your cheek, patting your back and saying, "Yes, I actually just did."

You hug your older brother tight, resting your head on his shoulder. "Love you. You did amazing. After everything you've been through. You're going to be leaving Ferrari next season and with your surgery and everything and-"

He smiles a bit. "Want to let me go now? Can't squeeze me too tight, remember?"

"So you can drive a race car and win the race, but you're too fragile for me to hug you!" you laugh, but release him from the hug.

He laughs out loud. "Yes, pretty much."

Hours later, you stand in the lit, mostly empty hallway, knocking on the white-painted door. You've change out of your Ferrari red head-to-toe fit, and are now wearing a black t-shirt with the F1 logo in red on the left side, black sweatpants, and your hair held back by a headband.

Lando probably isn't here, you think as you wait. I look so stupid. He doesn't care as much as he acts like he does. He's probably out partying or something. He got a podium. Carlos won. There's no way he's just sitting around in his hotel room-

You look up in surprise as the door clicks and swings open to reveal Lando Norris standing before you.

You beam and say a bit too loud, "Lando!"

He laughs. "Hey..." He's dressed in a white button down, dark blue jeans, and his regular assortment of jewelry. "Want to come in for a bit?"

You nod. "Were you... just out?" you ask slowly.

He chuckles again, plopping down on the sofa. "If I were just out, I wouldn't be looking this neat."

"Oh... Oh?"

"Come on. Sit down next to me," he encourages with a wave of his hand. "Something funny- I've had my eyes on you for a while now."

You look up in somewhat shock. "That's why you're so confident about this?"

"That, and that I'm just the peak of all confidence," he jokes, clearly mocking cockiness.

You roll your eyes.

"But really. I've been flirting with you for a while."

This time your eyes widen. "No way."

"Just little. I knew you were dating that Torres-"

"How?"

He smiles. "Doesn't take much to find out. Anyway, I think you just blocked it out because you were dating someone else. Shows you're a loyal girl."

"Hm..." you nod slowly. "I... I suppose...?"

Suddenly, he takes your hand in his. "So, you like me?"

"I think I have for a while. Like you said- I blocked it out because I was dating someone else." You didn't even know that until now, hearing the words coming from your mouth.

He smirks. "Even better. So..."

"Yeah?" you ask, a little glimmer in your eyes.

"I'd like to know what the hell you're wearing."

Suddenly, your face falls. "Uh- I'm sorry- I- I thought we- Um-"

Lando laughs. "Y/n! I'm teasing!"

"O- Oh!" you laugh nervously.

"I was just thinking... Maybe you'd want to go out and celebrate with me?"

"Oh-" you nod. "Right."

"So, do you want to get changed? I'll text you where we'll meet in a half hour?"

You grin, standing up. "Sounds good."

"See you then."

"Holy fuck, man," are Lando's first words when he sees you. You're wearing sunglasses, a form-fitting sequin shirt, and flattering white jeans.

"What?" you ask anxiously. "Is it too much?"

"Too much? Y/n, you're gorgeous."

You sigh in relief. "Alright good... And- one thing."

"Hm?" Lando asks, an eyebrow raised.

"I don't know if we... could we say we're... that you're my..."

"Partner? Boyfriend?"

You swallow. "Sure. I think... I think I'm good with that. At least for tonight."

He nods.

"But let's not make it clear here. I don't want the way for everyone to find out about this being, you know, by nightclub pictures on the internet."

He smirks a bit, nodding. "Fair enough, then. Let's go."

"Rise and shine! Let's hit the grind, Y/n!" an unfamiliar voice wakes you up.

You roll over to see Lando's handsome face looking down at you. You're in his hotel room, in the one bed. He's all dressed and ready to go, and towering over you, looking like a giddy dog.

You sit up, rubbing your eyes. "I've got a killer headache. What happened last night." You feel disgusting, and wrinkle your nose as you get a whiff of the alcohol scent radiating off of you.

He grins. "I learned that you have no tolerance whatsoever."

You frown. "Unlike you, Norris, I'm not getting drunk all the time! Now, tell me what really happened!"

"Nothing much. Just a lot of fun," he sits down next to you, "and it's a shame that you can't remember any of it." He chuckles a bit, saying, "You got fucking wild. You were more fun though before you got absolutely drunk out of your wits."

"You didn't do anyth-"

"No, no!" he rolls his eyes. "Besides, Carlos was there. I wouldn't dare. You at least remember Carlos, right, being there?"

You roll your eyes. "Yes, of course I do."

"But you really did completely black out? You don't remember anything?"

You swallow nervously. "No... I don't really remember anything... I mean, I guess..." You close your eyes, thinking hard. "Just dancing... music was super loud, but... that's not anything specific. I don't feel well at all now, though..." You start to feel a bit dizzy at the energy you're putting into trying to remember.

You open your eyes and look at Lando.

He smiles. "Well, it was fun, nothing more. Want me to bring you back to your hotel now?"

"Yeah, I guess..." you nod, cradling your head in your hands. "That'd be great..." You see the wine stain on your jeans. You can feel an ache in your ankle. You just need to clean yourself up.

Lando helps you limp to the car, assuring you that you just tripped. Saying your ankle is fine; it'll feel better in a few days' time.

You're not so sure.

As Lando drives, he knows he should tell you the details, like Carlos said.

But it still feels like you'd be better off not knowing at all.

Nine hours before

Though every single one of Lando's molecules in his body told him not to, he had to keep pushing you off. He sat talking away with some other dudes, and you sat his side, drunkenly trying to wrap your arms around him.

You blubbered softly about all kinds of stuff, a strange mixture of being utterly devastated and overly romantic.

Lando knew. You didn't get drunk this often.

A part of him felt bad. A huge part of him. He didn't think he had pressured you into anything. Certainly not intentionally. And you were the one who kept drinking more. But maybe he did...

Maybe it was his fault you were the mess you were now.

"Lando..." you murmured, your hand gripping his bicep. You leaned closer. "You're so sexy in that shirt." You reached over to unbutton another button of his shirt.

He gently pushed you away for the millionth time. "Remember, Y/n? You don't want anyone to know you're into me this much," he whispered lowly to you, running a hand through his hair. "Remember that, baby."

You pouted. "Ferran broke up with me and made me sad. Can't you make me happy now."

"Not now. I won't be doing anything when you're this drunk."

"I'm not that drunk..."

Lando snorted. "Whatever you say, lovely."

All was going as fine as it could be going. But then Carlos showed up. "Hey, Y/n-" he had started.

But you had interrupted him by slapping your hand on Lando's shoulder, leaning into it, and giggling giddily, "Look at this pretty boy."

Immediately, Carlos's eyes flashed with shock. And then vague panic. And then anger.

"Lando, how drunk did you get her?!" he snapped, raising his voice even more than he already was. The flashing lights on the Spanish man's face helped Lando's anxiety no more.

"I didn't get her drunk at all! I tried to stop h-"

"Yeah, fucking right. Come with me Lando-"

"No!" you had snapped, standing up to grab Lando's sleeve before your older brother could drag him away.

You were clearly biting back tears. "Lan didn't do anything..." You stumbled drunkenly into the British man, who steadied you gently, before helping you sit down again.

Carlos's face remained hard and steadied on Lando, but he spoke no words, as if he was battling in his head what to do.

Lando sighed. "Listen, Carlos. She won't remember any of this tomorrow morning. Let's just not bring this up again, yeah? It was a mistake. Stuff happens. She got wild and had one too many. We've all had those nights."

But Lando genuinely didn't think Carlos had had one of those nights before.

Lando certainly had, though.

"She deserves to know."

"Maybe she shouldn't, though. She's gone through a lot with her ex breaking up with her and everything. And I'm sure your career up in the air isn't helping her cause much, either. She loves you more than the world. And think about how worrying it was for her to see you go into surgery like that, and race right afterwards? The good emotions just hit her, man. But it's probably a lot. She's just going through a lot. She doesn't need the guilt of getting too drunk and acting a little stupid, yeah?" Lando ranted, intently studying the older Spaniard's eyes.

Carlos's eyes slowly softened. "Alright... I won't tell her what's happening once she's sober. Only if I can make a deal with you."

Lando bit his lip, running a hand through his messed up hair. "What is it?"

"I won't say a word to her, as long as you promise to stay away from my sister. I know you're interested in her."

Lando's eyebrows creased together. "What does that men? Why?"

"Quit trying to get with my sister, and then it's a done deal."

Lando let out a shaky breath, slowly nodding. "Alright, then. Whatever. It's a done deal."

Of course Lando didn't intend on following through with his end of the deal.

But when Lando turned around to check on you on the couch, he froze when he saw you were gone. "Where'd Y/n go?" he immediately asked the other guys and girls sitting around.

"The hot Spanish girl?" one guy asked in a painfully slow Australian accent.

"Yes, her!" Lando demanded, his buzzed brain filling with irrational panic and overwhelming confusion.

He lazily gestured and responded, "Went to go dance, I reckon."

And before Carlos or anyone else could react any faster, Lando tore into the crowd, shoving people aside and squeezing through gaps that weren't there, in search of you.

She's drunk out of her mind! What the hell was she thinking!

That's right. She wasn't thinking.

And then, he spotted you, just for a moment. Moving your hips, stumbling about, thinking you were just about the sexiest thing in the room.

"Move out of my fucking way," was Lando's polite way of shoving two guys out of the way.

He could see the sweat glistening on your face. He could see the dumb smile on your face, your high giggles. He could see fresh wine spilled on your white jeans. He could see hands on you; he took no energy to see who they connected to as rage filled his entire being.

And he watched, almost in slow motion, as your ankle rolled on your black stiletto, and you stumbled to the floor with a brain rattling, painful cry.

Immediately, Lando shoved his way to your side, slipping his hands under your body. "My God, Y/n!" he nearly screamed over the music. "You idiot! You beautiful, fucking stupid, idiot! Tell me why I fell in love with you! You're going to be the death of me!"

"Hi Lando," you murmured through tears. "My ankle..."

"Yeah, yeah, I see. Let's get you out of here, yeah?"

You swallowed, nodding as Lando tucked your hair behind your ear. He lifted you to your feet and let you lean on him as he helped you limp out of the club.

"I'm sorry, Lando..." you had muttered hoarsely.

"Hey, don't worry," Lando had responded. "Never apologize for having nothing but a good time."

But he, Lando Norris, disagreed with the words coming out of his mouth. That was his motto, his excuse, all the time. But as soon as soon as he saw you, someone he genuinely really loved, really cared about, living like that?

It made him sick to his stomach.

Speaking of that, as soon as you were outside, you stumbled away from Lando. He steadied you with one hand and held your hair back with the other as you doubled over and vomited, your previously red face impossibly pale.

"Are you done?"

"Yeah..." you gasped after about a minute.

"Alright. Okay. Let's get to my hotel room now."

Lando could barely understand your slurred words as you responded, "As long as we're getting away from here."

Now

You were going to go to the Japanese Grand Prix. But you just wanted to stay home. With a sprained ankle that confines you to crutches and an illness you've picked up, there was no way you were going to fly across the world for a Grand Prix, especially with the potential jet lag.

You lay on your couch and text Lando. You've been thinking, and you let him know that though you really do want to go places with him, you want to go slower.

You still don't know what happened on that night in Melbourne. For some reason, you can't get anything of significance out of Carlos or Lando. But you know more than what they're saying must have happened that night.

You asked Charles, because he was there. He provided a bit more information, but not much. He said he wasn't really hanging around you that night, but that he did see you cuddling with Lando.

When you asked Lando about it, he said you were drunk, it was just you not thinking, and it only happened once. That you stopped after he pushed you off.

And social media shows no one caught it on camera, or anything that night, for that matter.

So at least there's no fans going crazy over anything.

Lando texts you back, saying that he thinks it's best to go slow. Just let yourselves ease into whatever your relationship is going to be.

It's a relief to see he agrees with you on that.

But then he sends another text, asking you to try to keep it a secret. Even from your family, including Carlos.

You ask why, and he responds saying he simply agrees it's good to be private, and he doesn't want Carlos judging.

Though you're not sure about it, since Carlos is not only your favorite (only) brother, but also your best friend, you still tentatively agree to it.

Lando probably has a good reason.

Right?

By the time the Chinese Grand Prix comes around, though your foot is still in a walking boot, you're over your illness, and decide you're going to go for it and make the trip halfway across the world. After all, you've never been to China!

It's true that your walking boot doesn't look the best with your shades, shining silver jewelry, and overalls, but oh well. The most annoying part is literally everyone who even half knows your name (the Sainz part) keeps asking you what the hell happened to your ankle.

And you have literally no response but, "I fell," because you have no more of an idea than them, and there's no way you're about to say, 'Hah I just got drunk with Lando and got so fucking crazy that I twisted my ankle and sprained it! Anyway!'

Yeah, no way.

So "I fell," is the best option you have.

But the most concerning thing to you is that you haven't even seen Lando yet, all weekend. Though you haven't seen each other in a while, you've been calling, texting, and face timing often, your relationship growing a lot.

You chew your lip as you limp towards the McLaren garage. You peek in, scanning for Lando, but only see Oscar.

You limp to him.

"Whoa- What happened to your-"

"I fell," you say, thoroughly exasperated with this. "Anyway, is Lando around?"

"Lando? Uhhh..." he looks around.

Dude, hurry up. I'm not supposed to be here, your thoughts practically scream.

But then he walks in himself, and you grin, waving, "Lando!" you call.

He walks over to you, smiling. "Aw. Look at my little injured girlfr- uh, uhm, mate. My injured mate." He glances nervously at Oscar.

But the Australian just smiles, "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

Lando nods gratefully, before leading you to a more private place. "Hey," he says softly once you're alone, his hands resting on your waist. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright... Ankle's getting better, slowly but surely."

"Oh, good," he almost looks relieved. "That's so good to hear. I'm so glad you made the big trip to be here, Y/n."

You smile softly. "I was starting to miss you."

He grins. "I was missing you, too, baby... I think I could make some time for you this weekend, too. We could just get take out, hang out at my hotel room, you know. No more partying, even if I win, right?" he teases gently, gesturing to your foot.

You snort. "Yeah. Yeah, no more partying for now for me."

Later that night, you lay next to Lando in his hotel room. His arms are wrapped around you, his hand rubbing your back. "Look at me," he murmurs sleepily.

You look up to see his soft eyes looking at you, with so much, tenderness, so much...

love.

You feel a flutter in your stomach. "Lando, how did we get here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Two months ago, I would lie awake in bed, dreaming about and missing Ferran. I was so lonely. Now here I am. Two months, and I'm laying here, in your arms."

He grins a bit. "I bet it's because we're meant for each other."

"That's cliché."

"No, it's not. I really mean it. You know, I had a crush on you even back when Carlos was in McLaren, you were around a lot more, in papaya."

"No, you didn't-"

"Yes, I did!" he laughs softly. "I really did. The day I saw you in the paddock. The day Carlos pointed you out as his sister. The day you flipped your hair and looked at me with those warm brown eyes. And then looked away from me, because in my first season in McLaren, I was the farthest thing from attractive."

You giggle at this. "You're kidding."

"No, I'm not! That was the day that I knew- I knew- that someday, I was going to make you mine," he murmurs, his eye half-lidded as his hand gently caresses your cheek.

"Lando!" you squeak, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. "Don't you dare make me cry for no reason!" You wait a minute, before saying softly, "Well, maybe, just maybe, back then, though you were a pipsqueak, you were kind of cute... And I've always gotten butterflies from your jokes and teasing, even all those years ago, before I was even dating Ferran."

He laughs. "Awww... So you've always had a little bit of a crush on me, too!" You can see by his blushing cheeks and beaming eyes that just this fact is making him feel warm inside.

You roll your eyes, giggling. "I guess, maybe...."

He flicks your nose gently, playfully, holding you even closer. You lay there in more silence, before Lando says softer, even more tenderly, "Hey, Y/n... can I talk to you about something...?"

"Of course, Lando..." Your eyebrows knit together.

You watch as he swallows. Nods. Sighs. "Okay... Something has been bugging me..." He pauses. "I... I feel like I never should have brought you out that night in Australia... you know? Like, beyond the sprained ankle."

Your eyes flash. "What do you mean?"

"Well... You just got so drunk, and... I feel so bad... Like, somehow, it's my fault... I didn't mean for you to get hurt, or to drink that much... I just thought we'd have fun. Like I always do with my friends. And you're my girlfriend; supposed to be my closest friend..."

"Lando," you murmur shakily. "Did you try to get me that drunk? You didn't encourage it, did you?"

He looks nervous. "I genuinely don't think so, but I'm nervous I did... I tried to tell you enough was enough, but maybe I should have looked out for you more... Maybe I should have worked better at keeping you from getting that drunk... But we were having so much fun and I figured you would know your limit... I shouldn't have assumed."

"Lando! Don't blame yourself! It was my fault. I got too drunk, I fell and sprained my ankle. The sentiment of you wanting to look out for me is nice, but when push comes to shove, I'm in charge of myself, just like you're in charge of yourself, and it was my fault. My mistake. M'kay, Lando...?"

He nods slowly, still looking a bit unsure. "Well, Carlos isn't mad at you about it. He's mad at me..."

"Carlos is what?!"

"Ah, fuck. Forget I ever-"

"Lando Norris, explain."

"Whoa, that's sexy," he laughs.

"What?!" you exclaim in exasperation, yet you're still unable to keep your stomach fluttering by Lando's sudden spoken intrusive thought.

He grins, his eyebrows raised. "I don't know. Full name, in such a firm voice? Like, yes, mommy, order me around. I'll do whatever you want me to," he says in a low, goofy, teasing voice.

You can't stop your face from heating up. "Oh, shut it, you!" you snap, your voice cracking awkwardly as you flick him in the nose this time. And you flick his stupid nose harder than he flicked yours earlier.

He giggles evilly, rolling over. "Look at yourself! You liked that! You're a blushing mess!"

"No, I didn't. What a stupid way to flirt."

"Oh, well, I can show you even more stupid ways to flirt. Because, apparently, it doesn't quicken your heart rate at all."

You groan. "You are so annoying."

He leans over, giving you a peck on your lips. "I know. And you know you love me for it."

You forget to ask him again about Carlos.

"Baby, c'mere," Lando says, nodding for you to join him in his driver's room.

"Dude, watch what you call me when there's listening ears around."

Lando shrugs. "It's only Oscar in the other room."

"So? What makes you trust Oscar so much, anyway?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. He's a good guy. And he's not gossipy, like me."

You laugh. "You are, are you?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm a fucking gossip girl."

You laugh out loud at this as Lando shuts the door of his driver's room behind you.

Lando grins. "Anyways, Oscar is trustworthy because he's not the type of guy to have any desire not to keep a secret."

You frown, crossing your arms. "Alright. Whatever. Anyways, why'd you bring me in here?"

Lando shrugs, sitting down on the one chair in the room. "Sit down, babe."

You blink. "Where? On the fricking floor?"

"Uh, no," Lando rolls his eyes jokingly, as if this is the most obvious thing. "On my fricking lap, Y/n. Come on now. Duh."

You can't help but find yourself blush at that as you slip onto his lap. He wraps his hands around your waist, giving you a kiss on the cheek. You smile, leaning into him as you ask softly, "So why'd you bring me in here? Just for kicks?"

He grins. "I need my Y/n fix before the race. You know, it'll make me drive better."

"Oh? Is that how it works?" Suddenly, though, before Lando can respond, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You slip it out and sigh. "It's Carlos, asking me where I am. I feel like I'm under surveillance."

Lando blows a raspberry before saying, "Just ignore it, bae. You're a twenty-four year old woman; Carlos needs to get over it."

"Get over what?" you ask, an eyebrow raised.

"You not being his baby sister anymore. You're my baby now," he murmurs into your shoulder, pulling you closer to himself.

You laugh. "I still can't decide whether you're the worst flirt I've ever met or the smoothest. But right now, I'm thinking the worst."

"Oh, well!" he says, looking up at you with innocent eyes, batting his lashes. "Doesn't matter to me, because either way, you like it! Anyway, back to before Carlitos had to interrupt-"

You giggle as he begins kissing your face and say, "Carlitos? I'm not even allowed to call him that without him going psycho man on me-"

"Mmm... Can you talk less? It's cuter when you do that giggle thing," Lando murmurs between kisses.

This causes you to laugh out loud. "Sometimes, Lando, I think you're so weird." You realize, in a strange way, though, Lando is right. Because of the giddy feeling of literally having your boyfriend shower you with kisses and love, you're just kind of trying to find anything to talk about.

But maybe you should just take one moment to shut up.

You lean into the kisses, exhaling slowly. Contently, despite your pounding heart and sweating neck.

Finally, you feel as though your face is absolutely, completely covered in Lando's kisses. You sigh, contented, as Lando kisses the tip of your nose, and then pecks your lips.

You giggle, opening your eyes to gaze into his.

But his eyes flutter shut as he leans in, his hand slipping to the nape of your neck. And his lips meet yours again, this time in a real kiss. You shut your eyes, enjoying those lips on your own, sending tingles throughout your whole body, causing your breath to grow heavier and heavier. Desire pulses in every beat of your heart, causing the passion in the kiss to build and build. Your right hand falls into his chest as the other knits itself in his curly locks. You feel Lando's hand on your hip as his fingers snake under to grip your ass gently. You can feel his hot breath on you, in you, apart of you, as his other hand gently stroking your neck, giving you little twitches of longing for more. Your tongues find an art of lingering exploration, Lando's hunger seeming to never be satisfied as his tongue and lips tease your nerves, the emotional and physical connections between you seeming stronger than ever. His hand slides down your neck to your back, pulling you closer to him, so your chests are pressed into one another.

Suddenly, though, there's a pounding on the door of Lando's driver's room. Your eye cracks open. Lando's squeeze tighter shut, his eyebrows creasing together, as if he wishes so much that this never has to end.

Lando grunts, finally pulling away. Oscar's voice on the other side of the door saying Lando's name seems to be in another, insignificant world. You're both gasping as you study each other's eyes in a certain awe.

A soft, mischievous smirk appears on Lando's lips. Those lips that now you can't stop staring at. "Was your first kiss with Torres that hot?"

You let out a breathy laugh. "Definitely not."

There's a pause, of just softly smiling, gazing into each other's eyes, before Lando breathes, his eyes half-lidded, "My fucking God," He gently, slowly strokes your warm, pink cheek. "Did I ever tell you how head over heels I am for you?"

Before you can respond, Oscar's voice says again from outside, "Lando, if you don't respond, soon, I'm coming in."

Lando groans again, leaning his head back, "You can't! The door's locked!" He then adds under his breath, "Fucking Osc, interrupting as soon as I was going to take it to the next step."

At this, you blush even deeper. "You were-"

Lando waves his hand dismissively. "I would have checked with you first."

You nod, breathing deeply.

"Alright, baby," he sighs, running a hand through his hair, ruffling it up a bit. "Let's go see what the hell Oscar wants."

When the door swings open, Oscar can't help but chuckle how how much, in that moment, you two look like some snarky super villian duo, about to give him some cheesy monologue. You both stand, arms crossed, practically back to back. Lando wears a scornful grin and you display a glare as hard as stone. Even your clothes- Lando's racing clothes and your head-to-toe Ferrari red, finish off the silly look.

"What's so funny?" you demand upon seeing the Australian's laughter.

"Nothing, nothing. But I hope you guys know: These walls are not soundproof."

"What are you suggesting?" Lando snaps. "You couldn't have possibly heard anything, you idiot!"

"Whoa, whoa! I didn't! I'm just saying!" Oscar says, going on the defensive, putting both hands up. "Me and my girlfriend don't lock ourselves in my driver's room before the race, losing track of time and forcing you to go get us!"

"You and your girlfriend are probably going to buy a house with a white picket fence and have 2.5 children and a golden lab! Oscar and Lily is bad enough, but I'm surprised it's not John and Emily!"

"Whoa," Lando says, laughing as you walk out of the driver's room together and he shuts the door. "Shots fired. Calm down, Y/n; jeez."

But Oscar's laughing, too, so you know there's no need to apologize.

"Lan... You know I wasn't kidding earlier when I said I won't go out, right?" you say nervously as you walk into his hotel room, rolling your suitcase from your own hotel room.

"Yeah, I know you weren't. I wasn't kidding, either."

"So... What?" you ask, sitting down on the edge of his bed, crossing your arms. "You're planning on going alone? Then why did you bring me to your hotel room-"

"Y/n," he suddenly says, leaning down to gently grab your chin and look you directly in your eyes. "I'm not going anywhere tonight. I'm staying right here."

Your jaw actually drops. "I'm sorry, but who are you and what have you done with Lando Norris? Because that man would never miss an opportunity to party."

This makes Lando let go of you and break into a fit of laughter. "Y/n!" he breathes. "What the hell are you talking about? Before that, I would never miss an opportunity to spend time with you."

You stare. "Okay, actually. I'm being serious now. What did you do with Lando?"

You watch as your boyfriend chuckles, sitting down next to you. "Baby. I'm not going to go out clubbing while you sit in a hotel room alone. And there's no way I'm taking you out again; my guilty conscience can't take that, and neither can your sprained ankle. So why not celebrate P2 here, just you and I, hm?" he says in a low tone.

Immediately, at this suggestion, you blush. "Oh, uh, Lando... I, uh... I don't know if I'm ready for something... you know... for that... right now... Not yet... You know, it's too early for me in our relationsh-"

Lando suddenly breaks into laughter again. Oh, that sweet, silly sound. "Y/n! My God, what a dirty mind you have! I wasn't thinking that at all-!"

"You, Lando Norris, are saying I have a dirty mind?! I bet you really are his doppelganger!"

He crosses his arms. "Only reason why I wouldn't suggest that is because I know you're not ready. Which is more than one hundred percent fine with me. I wasn't even thinking about that, anyway."

"What were you thinking, then?"

He smiles with his eyes. "Well, let's both get ready for bed," he begins pulling his shirt off over his head as you absolutely bear your eyes into him, "And once we're both ready, I'll meet you back... here...?" His confused face slowly turns to one of teasing nature when he sees your eyes trained intently on his bare chest. His perfectly toned abs. His perfectly shaped pecs. His strong, straight, tan back. The little brown beauty marks sprinkled all over his torso. You would love to kiss every single one of them. "Why don't you take a picture?" he smirks stupidly. "That way, it'll last longer."

"Oh, shut up," you murmur, licking your lips as you tear your eyes away from his bare middle. "You can shower first," you murmur.

Once you're both all clean and ready, you snuggle up under the blankets, only to find your arm brushing against Lando's bare skin.

You feel your heart flutter as you murmur, "Are you not wearing a shirt just to bother me?"

"What, no," Lando says, overly innocently. "I never wear a shirt to bed. Just like I'm sure you never wear a bra...?"

If you were embarrassed before, now it's ten times worse. You specifically decided to wear a bra, to avoid... that. And now here Lando is, bringing it up like it's the weather.

"Uh..." you begin.

"Anyway!" Lando says, apparently seeing the vaguely panicked look in your eyes. "Wanna just watch a show or something?"

"Yeah," you nod. "That sounds good."

Lando turns some stupid show on his laptop, and as you snuggle and it gets later, you become more relaxed. You lean your head on Lando's shoulder as he plays with strands of your smooth, wet, dark hair. Your hands begin softly feeling his chest, just drawing circles and feeling the shapes of his abs.

Everyday, you seem to get to know Lando more and more- inside and out.

He sighs, contented, and murmurs sleepily, "That feels nice."

You smile, nuzzling into him.

"I saw Barcelona and Madrid played today," he comments as your fingers continue stroking the abs under Lando's soft skin.

"Yeah... El Clásico..."

"You don't sound as excited as I thought you would. I thought you were big on Madrid."

"Yeah, I am... Just having been keeping up with La Liga lately, I guess."

"Hm... Well, would you like it if I could find some way to watch the game...?"

You smile softly. "Hm. Yeah, maybe that wouldn't be so bad..."

Lando nods, and soon, you're cuddled up with your boyfriend, watching your favorite team play against FC Barcelona/your ex's team.

It feels weird, but you like it.

You decide your bra isn't very comfy and slip it off under your shirt before tossing it across the room.

"You're finally over being embarrassed with me?" Lando teases.

You smile softly, shutting your eyes. "At least for now. Too sleepy to care."

He smiles back. "You're cute when you're sleepy. Cuter."

Soon, though, Lando is gently shaking you, murmuring, "Look. Your ex was subbed on."

"Hmmm? What about Fer?" you murmur with a yawn. You must have dozed off for a bit.

"Fer?" Lando asks, his nose scrunching up. "Yeah, Ferran Torres."

Your eyes flutter open to see your ex-boyfriend running onto the pitch. You feel a sudden, unexpected pang in your chest. When you and Ferran were still together, you watched him do that so many time, with a sense of pride and excitement.

But now, you don't feel much at all. It's no different from anyone else going out there to play.

But, like a train, memories of the past begin to hit you.

Going for walks with him. Cheering him on at finals. Hanging out with his teammates. Working out with him. Bringing him to the Barcelona Grand Prix. Exchanging gifts on birthdays and holidays.

Just all the little things you used to do.

Like snuggling with each other on late nights after Barcelona won.

Not unlike what you and Lando are doing right now.

Suddenly Lando's arm around you tightens, and he says, "You okay?"

"I- yeah..."

Lando leans forward to see you face. You try to turn it away. Lando doesn't let you.

You stare into each other's eyes.

"You're crying," he states softly.

"I guess..." you trail off, averting your eyes.

There's a few beats of silence before Lando states again, "You still miss him."

"I guess..." you repeat. "But... I'm happy to be with you... it just all happened so quick... It's a lot for me... I'm mostly over it- over him- by now, but sometimes things just... make me start to think. Reminsce of what's not anymore."

Lando slowly nods, and begins rubbing your shoulder. "I- Alright..."

"But don't worry. I'm way more happy to be with you right now than sad to not be with Ferran any longer."

"You're sure?" the Brit asks tentatively.

You nod, leaning into him once more. "I'm sure. One hundred and one percent."

"Hey, Lando," you grin giddily before the Miami Grand Prix. "Just drive your best out there, okay? Good luck, baby." You give him a high-five. You can sense he wants to give you a hug, but painfully knows he can't because of the ever-watching cameras and eyes all around you.

But he leans in close, until you can practically feel his breath on your face, and says softly, in just about the most heart-wrenching-in-a-good-way low voice, "Oh, baby... I'm going to go out there and win that race. For you."

"Oh, stop being such a romantic. You're going to make me cry."

He leans in, about to kiss your cheek, but you gently push him off, saying, "You better get going, Lan! Race is going to start soon!"

"Right! Bye bye, bab-"

"BYE!" you scream to overpower his stupid 'baby girl.'

And before you can even blink twice, it seems-

It's lights out....

And away we go!

"LANDO! FUCKIN'! NORRIS!" you scream as soon as you see him, running to him as fast as you can. Your eyes threaten to fill over their brims with tears as you leap into Lando's arms, immediately forgetting about hiding your relationship.

Right now, that just seems too silly to care about. It doesn't matter enough.

Your boyfriend is a race winner.

The racer winner!

He leans back with the most joyful, most romantic, most adrenaline filled, most glorious look in his eyes as they search yours. His hand slowly strokes your cheeks as he purrs, "I told you I would win it for you, didn't I?"

"Lando-" you begin in excitement, but are interrupted by Lando's lips on yours, aggressively, passionately leaning into yours, flooding all his emotions into you, sharing his dream coming true with you.

For some reason, you begin to cry. Flows of tears, flooding down your cheeks as you kiss each other, and your heart pounds at a million kilometres an hour. His hands grip your waist tight, and the moment-

It all seems so perfect.

Right now, you don't care about the fact it was supposed to be secret. You don't care about what Carlos will think or say or do, or what fans on social media will post. None of it matters.

In this moment, the only two people that matter are you and Lando, in a symphony of amorousness, standing on the top of the world.

In this moment, you and Lando, both in sync, know this is the right time. Though it's been merely three months of being in a real, serious relationship, it feels like several lifetimes.

You don't care about the shock of other people, or the cameras flashing and clicking and filming.

All the sudden, you're proud of it.

You want everyone to know, no matter how they'll react, that you're Lando's, and Lando is yours.

When you finally break away from each other, Lando's smile remains as he gazes into your eyes.

"Are you crying too?" you giggle softly as you spot a glint in his eyes.

"What? Me, crying? No, I'm not crying! Of course I'm not crying!" he says teasingly, hastily wiping at his eye with his thumb. "You're the one crying! But anyway-" He slips the papaya McLaren cap off his head and plops it on yours, saying, "Won't be needing this for the top step. Besides," he smirks, leaning in closer. "Enough with all this Ferrari stuff. I think it's finally time for you to admit: Papaya looks best on you. Papaya's your color."

As you watch him jog off after that, stunned, you feel pleased.

Finally, for once, content.

That's right. My color isn't white, or blaugrana. It's not Ferrari's red, either.

I'm a papaya girl.

His papaya girl.

[aesthetic-bbyg]

HEY EMO BOY - Bill K.

In which you dedicate your performance to your celebrity crush, but he doesn’t know until the press gets ahold of it.

Bill Kaulitz x fem!reader

AUTHORS NOTE: this idea may be floating somewhere on somebody else’s blog but this I just came up myself so I’m not trying to copy nobody! I also had to change some of the lyrics for the sake of the story! Thx bbyg’s <33

Pt 2!

YOU LET OUT A HEAVY BREATH, finishing up the song, you reached down for the bottle of water by your feet, chugging the last of it. The concert has reached it’s final song, and you’ve got an idea that you’ve been planning for weeks. The crowd is still booming with shrieks, practically making the whole place rumbled. A grin appeared on your lips as you walked over to the microphone.

“Can you guys keep a secret?” You questioned as the crowd yelled in return, you giggled and a felt an overwhelming feeling of joy fill your body. “Well, I have a huge crush on this guy who totally doesn’t know I exist.” A string of boos followed after. “You guys may know him, he’s German, he’s the lead singer of a band, I believe he has a twin brother.” Within moments the crowd began to screamed, realizing who it was, there weren’t many German lead singers who have a twin brother, well..not that you knew of. You had a proud smirk on you face, bitting your lip to contain more nervous giggles from slipping out. “I think he suuper hot, so I decided to make a song about him, you guys ready?”

“Yeah!” At the sound of their approval the song immediately began to sound through the massive speakers scattered through the stage. You gripped the bedazzled microphone in your neatly manicured hands, the lights flickered with pretty pink colors, radiating your signature color as it reflected off your diamond studded belt. You couldn’t contain the large smile as you lifted the mic to your mouth.

“Saw this boy at the mall last week, got the kinda look to me me freak!” You skipped around the stage, your denim mini shorts riding farther up your thighs then it already was. “That long ass hair with the tightest jeans, my chemical romance on his tee.” You ran a smooth hand down your body, exaggerating your attraction towards him. “He looked so sick like he was dying, if I said he wasn’t hot then I’d be lying. Please, handsome, don’t be coy. Come on fuck me emo boy!”

The repetition of the lyrics echoed throughout the large stadium, it was actually hilarious how such a large crowd of people jumped and shouted come on fuck me emo boy, over and over again. You giggled, raising the microphone back to your lips, “This boy just unlike the rest, one look and I bitch I loose my breath. Wanna fuck in the back of the hot topic? Lift me up and then I drop it. He’s with his band, goin on tour. Should I go? Well, bitch, for sure!” Your favorite was coming up, it was a little explicit but what would be the fun if it wasn’t? “He might not look he gets bitches but honey that dick is eleven inches.”

With your pearly teeth out, your lips stretched into large smile you bounced around the stage, hearing the the beat blast into your ear drum. A collection of things were thrown onto the stage, it was a common reoccurrence during all your concerts. People would launched flowers, letters, bras, sunglasses, and far to many things that just piled up on the floor until you finished your set list and had all the gifts delivered to your dressing room. You admired your fans, the way their wristbands glowed in the dark night, the creative posters that were raised above their heads, it was hard to grasp onto it sometimes but the feeling never failed to make you proud.

“Hey, hey, hey emo boy!” The song had concluded, though the fans were far from quiet, you gave them a polite bow as the crew behind you began to pack up all the instruments. You were stuck in your spot, waving to all the giddy people who nearly broke down the barricade in excitement. “Thank you! Hugs and kisses to all of you who made it here tonight, I love you guys!” Your feet began to move towards the backstage, a part of you absolutely devastated that the show ended, but also relieved to get some rest. Although, before you could fully leave you jogged back over to the microphone. “And make sure to keep the song a secret from the emo hottie.” With that, you walked towards your assistant, Teresa, who held a bottle of water ready for you.

“You looked amazing, baby!” The dark haired girl giggled as you took the cool liquid and let it run down your sore throat.

“Thank you, I felt amazing!” You smiled, “Was the song good? It wasn’t too much, was it?”

“Absolutely not, the song was great, and I’m proud that you finally got around to preforming it.” Your assistant grinned, “It’ll definitely get his attention.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the goal.” You mumbled, looking over at your dressing room, ready to go in and remove all the makeup and heavy accessories you had on till you noticed that your name tag was gone from the front door. “Hey, what happened to my name tag?”

Teresa looked over, “Oh, they’re replacing it because Tokio Hotel is preforming here tomorrow.”

“What!” You nearly chocked on your water, eyes practically bulging out of your face as you stared back at your assistant. “Why didn’t you tell me that they were literally preforming here the day after me?”

“To be fair I didn’t know until they started moving stuff around.” Right as the words left her mouth a random man came over and slipped in a paper to the plastic cover on the front door. It wasn’t a mistake, the bold letter stated back at you: TOKIO HOTEL

“Well, I’m most definitely fucked.”

“BILL!” TOM PRACTICALLY ran across the tour bus, holding his baggy pants up in one hand while the other held a laptop. His twin sat on the couch, munching on a pack of sour candy. “Bill, you have to look at this!”

Bill stared at his brother with furrowed brows, wondering what has gotten him so giddy and grinning like a child. That was until the laptop was shoved in his face, some random article pulled up with some dramatized title that he didn’t even want to read. “What is this?”

“Read it!”

POP STAR, Y/N L/N WRITES EXPLICIT SONG TO GERMAN LEAD SINGER, BILL KAULITZ; COULD THIS BE THE START OF A NEW ROMANCE?

Bill’s fingers slid on the mouse pad, scrolling the through the article as his eyes quickly scanned the words in front of him. “This surely isn’t about me, Tom, it’s just fake news that they’re trying to shove down people’s throats.”

“Don’t be stupid, Bill, the y/n l/n is crushing on you and dropping subtle hints, hence, the song about wanting to fuck you.” Tom shook his brothers shoulders proudly, his grin wide.

A hue of red spread on Bill’s pale skin, clicking on the attached video that gave him the whole performance. Sure enough, there you were, singing a song about wanting to fuck an emo boy. “I don’t know, Tom.”

The oldest twin let out a groan, “Bill, she wants you, think about it. She’s our age and she says that the song is dedicate to a German lead singer who is touring with his band.” He had a good point, and that’s what made Bill smile a bit, it made a puff of pride filled his chest. “That’s what I’m talking about.” Tom laughed, “She wants you, Bill, and I wouldn’t want to pass up on that.”

“Enough.” Bill sheepishly smiled, closing the laptop and shoving into Tom’s chest, curling up on the couch as he felt a wave of heat wash over him. If the song was about him, and you meant what you said, then it really turned him on. He couldn’t help it, his already tight skinny jeans grew tighter.

“BILL, WHAT ARE YOURE opinions on y/n l/n new song about?”

“Bill is it true that you are y/n’s baby daddy?”

“Bill look over here!”

“Are you and y/n a couple?”

A flood of questions and bright, flashing lights came his way as he made his way towards the doors of the venue. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, attempting to move past the paparazzi and avoid there strange questions. His band mates followed behind him, struggling to keep up with him due to the crowding. He finally let out a breath of relief as he made his way inside. The flashing cameras replaced with colorful lights and the screaming substituted with the shaky bass of the music booming from the dance floor. Tom had already separated himself from the group, going off to the bar to try and find a new girl to bring to his hotel. Georg had dropped out, opting on talking with his girlfriend through phone all night instead. Gustav had also followed Tom to the bar, craving alcohol in his system.

The crowd of people were familiar, he had seen some of them at the event from before, there were many famous faces. Yet he stood by a wall, eyes looking around awkwardly, despite the many times he’d been to these events he always had to ease his way in throughout the night. After a few drinks he’d start getting loose, but for the moment he’d just scan the dance floor till he caught someone he knew.

That’s when he gaze was in trapped by a spark, a beautiful glow that confidently bounced on the dance floor, happily dancing. It was you, you were dancing with your friend, a half drunken drink in your hand while your swing your hips and shimmy you chest with a surge of confidence. The short dress having to constantly be tugged down your plush thighs, as you giggled, you felt something. A sense of being watched, but there was hundreds of people around, and a lot of them liked to stare.

You leaned into your friends ear, excusing yourself to the bathroom, you heels carried you to through the crowds of drunk people and to a small opening where you could go to the bathroom. Bill’s eyes watched your every move, were you coming towards him or was he fucking crazy? He nervously stared at you, your features became more clear, it was you. Y/n l/n. You were getting closer, he felt his breath hitch, what was he going to say? Well, he didn’t have to worry since you walked right past him, eyes not sparing him a glance as you rushed into a hallway. He furrowed his brows, staring as your figure disappeared, it was then that he noticed many people exiting and passing to enter the same hallway you just entered. He glanced up and saw the clear sight that read. RESTROOM.

He huffed, crossing his arms with a frown, maybe it was a sigh that he should talk to her but now it he had to wait till you walked back out. Finally, you left the restroom, shoving the lipgloss back into your bra and strutting out. You were excited to go back to dancing, a big smile on you lip, that was until a large hand wrapped itself around your wrist, tugging you back before you could go any farther. You looked back with furrowed brows, you had to crane you eyes up to look at who was the man behind the touch. You mouth went dry, eyes widening, your knees nearly giving out and dropping you on the dirty floor of the venue.

It was Bill fucking Kaulitz, the emo boy you made a whole song about. The song in which was leaked and slapped on every article with your name in the title. You were so happy that the lighting covered the blush that warmed your face. He leaned down, lips brushing you ear, hand still wrapped on on your wrist.

“Hey, I’m Bill.” His hot breath fanned against the shell of your ear, he could smell the faint scent of your perfume, it was intoxicating. “I like your music.” He pulled away, a smug smirk on his face as you swallowed the lump in your throat. His accent was much more hotter in person then it was in the interviews you watched on TV.

“T-Thank you.” You replied, but he simply gave you a confused look. You sighed, attempting to reach his ear, “I said thank you, I like your music as well.”

He nodded, “Thank you, it seems as though one of your songs has gotten quite popular, people have told me all about it.”

You needed to pull yourself together, this was a moment you’ve been waiting for and you couldn’t back down. So you rubbed your lips together, spreading the shiny, sticky gloss. You gazed up at him through your lashes, a flirty smile on your face. “Yeah, I was hoping you’d say.”

“Yeah?” He raised a pierced brow, “Why’s that?”

“You’re the only one I wrote the song for, of course.” You giggled, watching his expression change, he was surprised on how upfront you were about it. You were proud, cocky almost, it turned him on. “So, did you like it?” He nodded in response. “You wouldn’t mind doing what the lyrics say, do you?”

“No.” He replied, watching your smile widen. “I can take you back to my hotel and do exactly what you want me to do, schatz.”

You were getting giddy, you running a hand up his arms, staring up at his smoky eyes with lust. You bit your bottom lip, “Can you kiss me?” A small smirk played on his lips as he leaned down, leaving a slow kiss on your lips. Your hands were on his cheek, leaning up and desperately kissing his lips. His hands wandered, feeling you up in the tight pink dress you were in. Though his same hands seemed to favor a spot in particular, you ass, they ran up and down your sides before they eventually planted themselves there. His head was titled to the side, neck curved down to reach your height and to continue kissing your additive lips. He pulled away, lips sticky with you gloss before he trailed it down to your jaw and neck, his cheeky hands squeezed the flesh. You gasp, allowing him to suck lightly while the music blasted in your ears but it was all tuned out as you focused on the sensation of his tacky lips kissing your skin.

You were most definitely gonna fuck this emo boy tonight.

Y’ALL WANT A PART TWO W SMUT? Either way I’ll probably write one bc this game out better then I expected🤭🤭🤭

[ashen-vulture]

A Vulture In Therapy (wip)

It's been a while since I've posted anything because the next pages of The Appointment are taking a while, so have a sneak peak of some planned future events in the meantime

--- THE FUTURE FLYER'S CLUB ---

"Maybe it's just because I'm going back through the hormonal teenage phase," I sighed. I looked at myself in the mirror. The changes were happening, but very slowly. My body was covered in puffy white down feathers, and my skin had gone grey. The bone morphics were coming along nicely.

"I don't regret it, but there is this hollowness in me, some new need that isn't being fulfilled. Even though I have friends, a partner, a support system, I still feel so heavy and alone."

"Perhaps it would help you to meet more therians of your 'theriotype'?" The mirror said.

"You know I'm bad at meeting people..."

"~That's bullshit~ <3"

"W-"

"Middle school. You joined band even though you were afraid. You gathered a group of outcasts and made them friends. Highschool, you put together an Acapella group to perform in the talent show. You gathered more outcasts and made more friends. Online, you took risks with a bunch of strangers and made friends for life. College you opened up again and again to people you never met. You are not bad at meeting people, you're scared and one day soon you will decide you want it more than you fear it."

... I walked away from the mirror. She was right. Maybe. Maybe I needed to create my own happiness. Maybe I was ready to take the initiative. I went to my tablet and drafted my first sketch of a club poster.

"Future... Flyer's... Club. A club for bird Therians (or any winged creature) that wants to work together to teach each other how to fly. Yeah. I think this is something we need. But am I good enough to make it? I don't know."

"But you want it more than you fear it. So take the leap."

Maybe I'll print a few test copies tomorrow. Maybe I'll bring them to my check-in with Erian next month and ask if I can leave some in his office. Maybe I'll ask Madam Mabel if I can leave a couple at The Roost.

Maybe it'll start small, and maybe it'll grow from there. My flock.

Flight isn't just an instinct, it's a skill.

No mother bird to show us how.

Lets show each other.

Welcome to the Future Flyers' Club! We have Posture Practice, which is just a scaffolding with a harness rig and a large fan (it took so many extension cords to get that fan all the way out here) but hey, it'll get you used to flapping and to the soaring position!

And if your legs are feeling stable, you might try out our long jump launch! It's a bunch of haybales stacked up with some distance markers on the ground.

I've also got a tape measure in my pocket if you want to check your wingspan or tail length!

I know it's not much to look at yet, but it'll get there. Just like us!

[petrodragonicapocalypse]

GizzMay 2024 !

(a retrospective tour diary by me)

🦎✈️🎵

king gizzard & the lizard wizard announced their 2024 world tour last november with a promise to "get woke, freak out the right wingers and love each other", so i, a like any normal person working a minimum wage job, immediately bought tickets to six shows.

read about the best 2 weeks of my life here (if you wish)

part 1: hamburg & amsterdam

after half a year of planning, studying google maps, scouring airbnb for cheap rooms and wincing at the cost of transport, me and my lovely girlfriend bennie (the person who first showed me polygondwanaland back in 2019) set off on our long-awaited trip on tuesday 21st may 2024. we were going to follow the band for six shows over two weeks across four countries. neither of us had ever done something like this before.

to kick off the trip, we flew from bristol airport to amsterdam, where we were due to transfer to a flight to hamburg. typically, a thunderstorm meant our hamburg flight was cancelled, so they sent us on a detour to vienna. we ate a slice of airport pizza in austria, tried not to panic and finally rolled into hamburg at around 10pm.

hamburg

the next day (22nd may) was our first gig. with around 4000 people and a 3 hour marathon set, this was gonna be the biggest and longest show of our section of the tour, and the only outdoor one. we queued from 1.30pm (early for europeans!) outside the venue, stadtpark arena. soon, the eerie sound of synths began emanating from inside the gates, then morphing into a soundcheck for the never-played-live-before silver cord, vocoder and all, and excitement amongst the fans was stoked. the weather forecast looked ominous, but spirits were high.

at around 3pm, it started raining. it poured relentlessly on the growing line of gizzheads in ponchos clutching poster tubes and beers for 3 hours until the venue gates finally opened. we ran to the front. we were hyped. we stood for another hour while rain and mist blew around the arena and thousands of fans filed in.

finally, just as the rain died down a bit, king gizz ran out onto the stage. the slightly delirious state induced by 2 oreos for dinner and freezing my tits off for 4 hours was almost as good as drugs. all thought of the water running down my back and legs disappeared. fuck yeah!!! king gizzard!!!

the rain soon came back in full force but we didn't care. float along fill your lungs was a fantastic opener, followed by banger after banger: a nonagon suite, work this time and iron lung (with ambrose braving the weather and emerging out onto the exposed walkway in the chorus to splash around in the puddles), to name a few. then, out rolled the highly anticipated new synth table and the boys launched into the 27 minute long live debut of the silver cord.

personally i was full of joy, whimsy and love for techno so naturally i thought this was fucking awesome, but reactions from the crowd (and from the "online community" a.k.a. redditors... haha) seem to have been mixed. it was 27 minutes long, we were cold and wet, the sound was a bit dodgy, etc etc. whatever. i was vibing extremely hard.

however, any dampened spirits were very quickly raised again by the epic 7 song metal run that ended the show. the crowd went wild - turns out moshing does wonders for the cold. i heard what ended up being 2 of my all time favourite live gizz songs for the first time: organ farmer and motor spirit. it kicked ass.

we made it back to the hotel soaking wet and probably bordering on hypothermic after over 7 hours in the rain. had a hot shower and then spent the rest of the evening attempting to dry our clothes and shoes with a hairdryer before our flight the next day. did not smell good.

🦎✈️🎵

amsterdam

we flew from hamburg to amsterdam schiphol on 23rd may, with at least 5 other gizzheads (easily recognisable by their poster tubes and t shirts) dotted around the plane. we arrived to a beautiful city on a beautiful sunny day and (obviously) headed directly to the weed shops. edibles legally purchased, we dumped our stuff at the airbnb and took the train to the venue: AFAS live.

waiting in the line, it was easy to spot who'd been at stadtpark the night before from the mud on their shoes. but the weather that afternoon was sunny and warm and the line was happily buzzing. we met some cool people including a person in a long yellow coat who was drawing huge oil pastel posters for the show - rad as hell and an iconic figure of the tour (i believe they gave the band a poster that night!).

once in the venue, we settled down by the barrier (it's always worth the wait!) and chatted with some swedish guys and a friendly australian, far from home. the support band was dr sure's unusual practice, a lively melbourne based punk act with a wild-haired wild-eyed frontman, filling in last minute for grace cummings who had to cancel several shows due to illness. they put on a great show, during which stu and lucas surreptitiously appeared to watch the band from the wings a few feet away from us. we gave them a wave, and stu shot us a wink.

the setlist that night was fucking incredible. gizzard opened with the mighty crumbling castle, a song that i'd been dreaming of seeing live ever since i first heard it 5 years ago. it was better than i ever could have hoped, with the weed brownie kicking in and the stage lights becoming kaleidoscopic. the band was energetic and the vibes were electric. stu overshot a high kick, fell on his ass and managed to hop back up without missing a lyric. self immolate - dragon - flamethrower - gila monster was unreal. joey used a quiet moment in pleura to stage-whisper "free palestine!", eliciting cheers.

somewhat hilariously in retrospect, during the hypnotic drone of rattlesnake me and my girlfriend both suddenly realised we were way too high. i have vague memories of the second half of the gig, including the han tyumi suite (REALLY REALLY MAD I MOSTLY MISSED THAT) and an honest-to-god terrifying moment in which joey and ambrose walked to the front of the stage, crouched down and stared directly at us for what felt like an undefinable amount of time. ultimately though - despite our tenuous grip on reality and the fact that we somehow got lost in a train station for an hour on the way home and spent the next full day in a semi-stoned stupor - it was a fantastic show. lesson learned: the dutch do not play about their space cakes.

after a day of recovery (let's just skip over that) and a lovely morning spent wandering around amsterdam taking in the sights, bennie and i made our way back to the airport to say our goodbyes. she was going home and i was travelling on to hit up the northern UK shows. despite knowing we'd see each other again in a week for the acoustic UK finale show in brighton, it was weirdly emotional. i was a little nervous about travelling alone, but excited.

🦎✈️🎵

(end of part 1, part 2 coming soon!)

[cal-flakes]

╰┈➤ rafe builds y/n a treehouse

warnings: swearing, mentions of drug use.

summary: rafe remembered what y/n’s wish was. (i suggest reading stargazing with rafe first, however it’s not imperative)

y/n’s tatty hair blew in the breeze as she huffed and puffed, as well as the occasional squeak of pain when she was stung by a nettle. rafe chuckled at her grumpiness as he pulled her alongside him through the secluded woods.

“where are we going rafe?” she sighed, kicking a loose branch out of her way. “you’ll see, just be patient princess..”

groaning, she continued stumbling through the trees until they reached a small clearing. her mouth fell agape as she looked up, taking in what was before her. she didn’t even know this clearing was here, nevermind what was now built on top of it.

“a treehouse..” she muttered, amazement laced in her voice. rafe stood to the side sheepishly with his hands in his pockets. “y-you built me a treehouse?” she gasped as the corners of her mouth widened into a grin. “well, i had a little help from barry..”

“rafe, you didn’t have to do this for me!” she shrieked, tears brimming along her liner coated waterline. “i wanted to, you remember that night on the beach? i got my wish, it was only fair you got yours..”

he smiled tightly as the fond memories of that night came rolling through his mind.

“hmm, deal” she giggled, rolling onto her side to look at him. “i wish for a treehouse” his brows furrowed in confusion at her words. “a treehouse?”

it wasn’t until moments after that she’d explained her childhood dream of having a treehouse, filled with all of her favourite books and records, decorated with fairy lights, pillows and blankets.

“c-can i go in?” she asked, fidgeting with the rings on her fingers nervously. “of course, here’s the key, i put a lock on the door..”

handing her the small silver key, he watched in admiration as she skipped over to the wooden ladders he’d had barry build. his eyes met her small frame as she climbed them, giggling all the way up.

unlocking the small wooden door delicately, tears streamed down her face as she crawled inside, looking around at everything rafe had gone to great lengths to find.

he’d decorated it exactly the way she wanted it. there was a little table in the corner with a baby blue record player, with a small stand for all of her vinyls. to the right of it was a mound of pillows and blankets, all fluffy and cozy. and the walls were littered with some of her favourite band posters, as well as a few polaroid’s they had taken together over the last few months.

launching herself into the pile of covers, she threw her head back in hysterics as rafe’s head appeared at the top of the ladder, crawling in behind her.

making herself comfortable, she opened her arms, summoning him into them. she rested her cheek on the top of his head as he cuddled into her chest, pressing soft kisses to her exposed collar bones.

“i can’t even begin to tell you how much i love it, thank you rafe..” she sighed, stroking his neck with her thumb while tears continued to roll down her cheeks. “shh, no tears princess, you deserve it”

“this must’ve taken you ages to build..” nodding, rafe propped himself up to meet hee glassy eyes. “it did, but it was certainly worth it to see you so happy..”

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

WIP Weekend

Weekly WIP update

5 weeks until Updraft starts posting, and one chapter left to write! Can't wait to share, and the art that @cuips-not-cute is cooking up is gonna be so amazing! 😍

Steve in The King's Gift is such fun to write, let me tell you. That's all I'm saying for now, just having a blast with this current scene. 🥰

Currently working on another instalment of Upside Diner, and then I'll be launching myself at the amazing prompts for @steddiesmuttyseptember 👀😈

Send me an emoji, and I'll write and share three sentences from that project.

🏰 The King's Gift

⚙️ Updraft

✨️ Upside Diner / Smutty September

Snippet from ✨️

“Oh, for fuck's sake.” Steve slams the first aid kit shut so hard the plastic cracks and whirls around. “Don't act so shocked. You think I'm getting by on waiting tables alone? Please! We're both grown-ass adults, don't make me spell it out for you.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Eddie screeches. His hands are shaking, he can hear his own blood in his ears, and apparently, he's gotten off the sofa at some point, because he's on his feet and Steve takes a step back as he advances on him, bumping his ass against the table. “What are you even- … You can't do that.”

Steve's eyes go hard.

“Why not?” he asks, and the aloof tone and stubborn jut to his chin remind Eddie painfully of that first time they met again at the diner. “What's it to you?”

Everything, Eddie wants to say. It's fucking everything to him, because Steve is everything, and the idea of Steve with anyone else makes his blood boil and his stomach twist.

“I just…” he stutters instead. “I don't- … I don't get it. Money's a little tight, so you thought it would be a good idea to fuck strangers in an alleyway?”

Steve flushes and sputters. It would be adorable, under any other circumstances, if Eddie could feel anything but helpless rage right now.

“I don't fuck them,” he says. “I just …”

He trails off awkwardly, blush darkening by about five shades. His eyes stay glued to one of the framed band posters on Eddie’s wall as he forms a loose circle with his thumb and fingers. He does a vague, jerky up-and-down motion, once, before he shrugs and lets his hand flop down to his side.

“Sometimes I suck ‘em off, but only if they're nice and pay extra.”

Eddie stares at him. Maybe, if the situation was any different, he'd find it funny how Steve can't bring himself to say the word handjob, but will casually talk about sucking someone off for a bit of extra money, but right now, all he wants to do is scream. The thought of Steve on his knees in that dark, stinking side alley, of that pretty, pink mouth opening for some other guy's cock, fills his mind with dark needlepoints of red.

[uss-edsall]

I think something incredibly important with Shrek is that the jokes were funny even if you didn’t understand it — either for being too young or being international and the American context was missing

examples: Fiona’s Sir Justin poster; those unfamiliar with Justin Timberlake still understood it to be a boy band poster. And the trumpet players with the guy who launches into the Hawaii Five-O theme; for those unaware of it, it was still funny because of the guy getting bonked for going off on a solo

[agaypanic]

Concept: pop star!reader being somewhere on the cover of a Löded Diper album but her head isn't visible due to the top of the picture being cropped at the midline of her neck. I can't really think of a reference for what I have in mind. My idea comes from what would look like an advertisement, photoshoot, or album cover in the 60s and the setting of it is at a go-go bar, and the female model playing the part of a go-go dancer but all you see is her body from the neck down. Then idk, the band is kinda looking at her from underneath (idk where to mention she's dancing on a table) like she's a goddess or something like the Birth of Venus. I'm not apologizing for injecting my love for the 60s into this

rodrick would totally do that as a soft launch thing. like everyone thinks you’re together and knows that it’s you on the cover but it’s not 100% confirmed

tbh tho, i kinda don’t like the whole “headless woman” thing. were any of you shane dawson fans back in like 2018 before all the major stuff about him came out, and in one of his “conspiracy” videos he talked about the headless woman trope for movie posters and stuff. and how some even have a headless woman in female leading/all female movies (for example, a league of their own) bc not showing the face meant they could pay the model less. that shit pissed me off

[drop--pop--candy]

hey! you! yes you! i LOVE pjsk ocs! please tell me about your unit!

hi hello thank you omg,,, first interaction ever and ur asking abt my lil guys,,,,, waow

SO!!!! the band's name is neon's ✧ glimmer and it's made up of four first years at miyajo (the girl's academy) :D most of their written lore is under their tag, and a couple shitposts are under the shortened tag "n✧g". i don't think the Original original lore post is under their tag (plus it was super confusing anyways) so i'll just summarize it here!!

basically, the story kicks off because Misaki Kaneko moves to the area and transfers to Miyajo. she bonds with one of her classmates, Maho Sasaki, over their love of music. the two of them decide to start a band, but they don't really have the skills to just be a duo so they basically plaster posters all over the school about wanting a drummer and a vocalist.

meanwhile, the actual leader of this group, Chika Fujiwara, has been doing covers online for more than a year now. her dream was always to be in a band, but it never worked out because people didn't like her/thought she was weird/etc, so now she's a solo act. her sister, Haruka Fujiwara, has been trying to get her back into the band scene, and when Haruka sees the flyers that Misaki and Maho have put up she thinks it's the best opportunity her and Chika are ever going to get. so she starts getting gradually closer with the pair of them, gently prying about what kind of drummer and vocalist they'd want, but never actually offering to audition.

through a sort of long and complicated series of events that im cutting from this summary for the sake of time, Chika is convinced to audition for the vocalist and she does so virtually, so Misaki and Maho don't know it's her (that girl in their class who's cold and doesn't have any friends). Maho and Misaki listen to the audition and decide they HAVE to have her, and Haruka auditions for drummer on the spot (she's with them because she's the one who put Chika's audition on their computer. but they don't know that lol.) and she also gets the part! now they have a full band yippee! just one problem; they have no clue who their singer is.

Chika arranges to meet them in front of Miyajo, and when they arrive, she reveals her identity to them and launches into a speech abt how she was really scared to do this but she trusts them and she can't wait to work with them-

-and Maho completely shuts her down. Maho places a lot of emphasis on community, and in her eyes, Chika doesn't have any. which must mean she's untrustworthy and did something to drive that community away. she rips Chika apart, and Chika runs away, not knowing what else to do.

Haruka (who Misaki and Maho did not know was affiliated with Chika in any way at all) is understandably really angry because she thought she could trust these people. she thought this was the best opportunity she'd ever find and it got so far just for Maho to crush it by being an asshole. she throws her drumsticks at Maho and quits the band on the spot.

Misaki doesn't quit the band, but she firmly refuses to take Maho's side and leaves her all alone in the school field with some harsh words.

i'll be honest i'm not super clear on how the band gets back together but they Do and that's the end of the main story HAGSHDGDHDH sorry this part is still in development. anyways i hope you liked this lil summary!! you can ask me to go more in depth about any specific part and i will :3 honestly just feel free to send any followup asks lol i love interactions with my ocs and also i think u are super cool for asking me about them even tho we have literally never talked before. im giving u a cupcake and a nice cup of tea. anyways thank u for the ask!!! remember to stay hydrated :D

[zot3-flopped]

Things are going from bad to worse for Liam Payne as his ex-fiancée Maya Henry launches blistering attacks on former One Direction singer online and clips of him dancing at his former bandmate Niall Horan's concert have gone viral.

YouTube star Henry, 23, has accused her ex of 'weaponising' the boyband's fan base and obsessively making contact with her through different phone numbers, more than two years after they split up.

Some of Payne's earliest faux pas date back to before the band split up when he landed himself in hot water with fans over Zayn Malik's departure.

In 2015, fans were left in uproar after the four remaining band members; Payne, Harry Styles, Niall Horan and Louis Tomlinson, posed with some fans while holding up a poster of the band members.

However, as he smiled while carrying the poster, Payne appeared to deliberately cover up Malik's face - and faced the wrath of fans for doing so.

The cheeky star wrote on Twitter: '#makinglightofasituation sorry for the laughs guys.'

However, fans were quick to react and hit out at Liam for making light of his friend's absence.In recent years, the singer has become something of an internet sensation after a string of bizarre onscreen appearances which have become fodder for 'memes' and online jokes - and it has led some to dub him the 'David Brent' of music.

Meanwhile videos of the Wolverhampton-born singer sporting a T Bird-style hairdo, leather jacket and dance moves at Horan's Buenos Aires concert, while teasing screaming fans and smirking have curled people's toes around the world.

Some of Payne's earliest faux pas date back to before the band split up when he landed himself in hot water with fans over Zayn Malik's departure.

In 2015, fans were left in uproar after the four remaining band members; Payne, Harry Styles, Niall Horan and Louis Tomlinson, posed with some fans while holding up a poster of the band members.

However, as he smiled while carrying the poster, Payne appeared to deliberately cover up Malik's face - and faced the wrath of fans for doing so.

The cheeky star wrote on Twitter: '#makinglightofasituation sorry for the laughs guys.'

However, fans were quick to react and hit out at Liam for making light of his friend's absence.

*****

Much more at link! Liam has done so many embarrassing things over the years, and this article documents all of them.

[killa-trav]

Meet Lando Norris, the woke, feminist face of Formula One

The 23-year-old McLaren driver is equally happy driving at more than 200mph or talking about his feelings. Sathnam Sanghera meets the new poster boy for petrolheads

Let’s face it, in the Eighties and Nineties, when I was getting into the sport, a certain kind of man was attracted to driving Formula One cars. Habitually egotistical, frequently misogynistic, oblivious to the environmental consequences of driving a high-powered car in circles for the sake of it, this unreconstructed male would also, with some 52 drivers losing their lives over the years, have something of a death wish. No one demonstrates how much things have changed than the McLaren F1 team’s current lead driver, 23-year-old Lando Norris.

Having recently broken up with the model Luisinha Oliveira, the Brit is a red-blooded young man who tells me with a certain amount of excitement that he’s the driver with the highest rating among female F1 fans, but when asked about the absence of women F1 drivers, he doesn’t, as Jenson Button once did, say that mechanics wouldn’t be able to concentrate near the presence of “boobs”. Instead, he launches into an earnest explanation of how things can and should change. Followed by a list of the ways he and McLaren try to make up for the environmentally unfriendly nature of racing cars.

When it comes to the death wish, Norris admits that his Belgian mother “hates” watching him race because of the risks involved, but safety has improved so much that survival is only an occasional anxiety for him. And as for the hard living, there’s a plastic tub on the table between us informing me that the only thing that has passed his lips this morning is porridge.

“Everything looks easy from the outside,” he says, launching into an explanation of the self-discipline and athleticism required to pilot modern F1 cars. “People don’t realise how physical it is, the G-force side of it. You’re not far off what they do in jet fighters. You then have two-hour races, racing in, you know, Singapore, where it’s 35C, extremely humid, you’re in a cockpit where you don’t get a lot of air flow, so it gets up to 50C inside the car and you can easily lose three, four kilos in some races. It’s one of the most physical sports you can do. And then there’s the mental side of it: if you’re racing in Monaco, one mistake and you’re out pretty much straight away.”

Sitting in a private box at the London Stadium, the site of a Major League Baseball game this weekend and a collaboration event between the baseball players and McLaren today, he tells me about the endurance, cardio and heat-chamber training involved; the difficulty of strengthening neck muscles, essential to withstanding extreme G-forces. Frankly, I can’t imagine him undergoing any of it. It’s partly that he’s just so wilfully unmacho — the single gentlest sportsperson I’ve ever met. It’s also that, at 10st 7lb and 5ft 9in, and looking even younger than his 23 years, he resembles a boy-band member rather than an automotive gladiator. Which probably explains the female fan base.

Make no mistake, though, that Norris is ferocious on the track, frequently out-racing people who almost have more years of F1 experience than he has experience of existence. His once mighty team, McLaren, 60-years old this year, has not delivered the best car this season, but recent upgrades allowed him to attain fifth position, and widespread praise, at this month’s Austrian Grand Prix. And he has been recognised for consistently getting the best out of his cars from his earliest days, beginning racing at the age of just 7 and winning several junior titles before being named McLaren’s test and reserve driver at the age of 17.

He was quickly promoted, his performances eventually making his team-mate Daniel Ricciardo look average, with McLaren replacing him with fellow Australian Oscar Piastri at the end of the 2022 season. Meanwhile, two-time world champion Mika Hakkinen has claimed that Norris is “on the same level” as reigning F1 champion Max Verstappen.

As a reflection of the esteem in which he is held, Norris recently agreed a contract extension with McLaren, which, according to one motorsport magazine, makes him the fourth best-paid driver in F1. When I cite the reported annual salary of about £19.4 million, he concedes it’s “in that ballpark”. An extraordinary amount of money — if you were not already the son of one of the richest men in Britain, of course. Norris got into motor racing with the backing of his 51-year-old father, Adam, whose wealth is estimated in excess of £200 million, mainly from his involvement in the investment platform Hargreaves Lansdown. As a result, asking how money has changed his life is not a particularly fruitful line of questioning. What does he spend it on? On experiences with his friends, “creating memories”. Has he splashed out? He can’t think of anything, but then his company car is a McLaren supercar and he travels the planet in luxury for work anyway.

Nevertheless, his rise raises a perennial anxiety for the sport. Can you make it in F1 without being born into money? Norris, who attended Millfield School in Somerset but didn’t do his GCSEs due to already intense motorsport commitments, is characteristically unprickly on the theme. “It’s 100 per cent very, very clear for anyone”, he says, to see that his dad financed his entry into F1. But he insists, “You have to have talent to make it. You’ll never get to Formula One now if you’re a bad driver. I was lucky I didn’t have to find too many sponsors and my dad could support me all the way to F1, but I couldn’t deal with being a pay driver in F1. I think it’s the wrong thing to do, completely.”

By “pay driver”, Norris is referring to the rich young men who occasionally buy a seat in the sport, usually in the form of sponsorship, Russia’s Nikita Mazepin being a recent example at Haas. “There’s no other sport in the world where you can pay just to be in it. It shouldn’t happen in Formula One. But it’s also one of the most expensive sports to get into — you can’t just pick up a go-kart like you can pick up a football or a racket or baseball bat.”

I ask how he thinks his generation of drivers differs from the old guard, and he cites a bunch of factors I’ve not considered. Not least that his generation has grown up practising on the high-tech simulators now used by all F1 teams, and playing computer games for fun. Such games were one of the things that brought Norris to prominence in 2020, when his internet broadcasting of game-playing became popular with motorsport fans deprived of racing. He has since founded his own esports firm, Quadrant. But does playing car games on consoles actually help develop real-life skills? “I don’t think it hurts. But they’re not even games; they’re simulators.” They’re that good? “Yes, certain ones. You’re racing actual people around the world who are very talented, racing other F1 drivers. You’re learning all sorts of race craft, the set-up, handling, car control.”

Growing up with social media is another difference that he cites. It brings up the mental-health struggles Norris has talked about suffering since entering F1, where the pressure can be extreme. But it sounds as if it’s something he has, for now, worked out how to navigate. He has removed Twitter from his phone, but more to stop himself wasting time than because of abuse. “Every person, every sport, people love you and people hate you. Of course, I’d prefer if people loved me. But I just laugh at it more than anything [now]. It affected me a lot more back in, like, 2019, 2020, because I took it all more personally.”

Why was that? “I was just starting out and wanted everyone to like me more.”

This more relaxed attitude is also in evidence in his approach to Netflix’s blockbuster show Drive to Survive, which he has criticised in the past for faking tension with his former team-mate Carlos Sainz, but which he now accepts as entertainment. “Some things get twisted a little bit, but at the same time I realise it’s a show.”

Norris stretches in a way that indicates tiredness, and it’s entirely understandable. I’m knackered from my journey from north to east London, but he finds himself in the capital after three days of travel that have taken in Canada, Cannes and McLaren HQ’s in Surrey. F1 is an exhausting line of work. And the circus is often surreal. Through a window behind him, a McLaren car can be seen being wheeled onto the pitch for the photoshoot: a slice of F1 in West Ham’s football stadium, which has been converted to a baseball diamond for the weekend (and hosted the athletics at the 2012 Olympics). I ask if he’s a football fan. “I used to be.” I know the feeling, I say, wanting to disown Wolverhampton Wanderers when they disappoint. His team? “England.”

It takes a moment to realise this is a sardonic reference to another instance of unwanted attention, in the form of the mugging he suffered in July 2021. As widely reported, an unidentified man held Norris in a headlock while another yanked a £144,000 Richard Mille watch off his wrist. The timepiece was one of just five in existence. It happened at Wembley Stadium as he made his way to his sports car following England’s loss to Italy in the final of Euro 2020. In a remark that some might consider strange given Norris sometimes drives at walls at nearly 200mph, he says, “I didn’t realise how quickly things can go completely… scary.”

Did it change the way he feels about going out and about?

“I don’t wear watches any more.”

He means socially: today he is wearing, for sponsorship reasons, another example of the same watch. “It has changed my perspective. There are still times when I get a bit nervous about things, when I’m with my friends.”

The admission of vulnerability is yet another refreshing thing about Norris, but not altogether surprising if you’ve ever heard him talking to his team over the radio during races. He is intensely self-critical. What is he like with failure? Does he let it overwhelm him? “I would say I do, quite often, but it’s really the biggest drive.”

Lots of athletes use failure to motivate themselves, but it can become destructive.

“It’s the main thing I use. I’ve learnt to beat myself up less, but I’m definitely my biggest critic — I mean, I’m the one who knows what I can do and what I can’t do.”

When it comes to the possibilities of achievement, during a season where McLaren has disappointed, currently standing at sixth out of ten teams, below the middle-ranking Alpine, Norris is optimistic. He believes in the team’s aggressive development plan, which has seen it bring car upgrades to recent races. “I probably have the most faith I’ve had in a while.”

Nevertheless, disappointment is a running theme in our conversation. When I ask about the key to surviving success, he responds with, “I’ve not had much success.” I remind him he has had a disproportionate amount of success for his age. “True. But then again, it’s relative to what I’m actually trying to achieve. Success is winning races, winning championships, and I’ve not got anywhere close to doing that.”

When I ask if he feels like he’s following in the footsteps of Lewis Hamilton, given Hamilton also started off at McLaren, he dismisses the comparison as grandiose. “Life’s not fair in Formula One, because things can go up and down completely out of your control as a driver. So it doesn’t matter if you’re the best driver in the world, if you’re in the wrong team, you’re not going to win. You’re not even going to look good.”

Before departing, I ask Norris how he feels about certain descriptions that are frequently applied to him in press coverage.

“Handsome”? “[That comes from] the female audience,” he blushes.

A “fair loser”? “I admit when I’ve done things wrong. I’m the last guy you’ll ever see blame someone else over myself when something happens.”

“Nice”? There are some drivers who would hate the description, being keen to cultivate a fearsome air both on and off the track. “I’m happy with it. As much as I do care about what people think of me, I want to be seen in a good way rather than not. But just because I’m nice in person doesn’t mean it’s the same on the track.”

Finally, “shy”. It’s shyness that has been apparent throughout our meeting, not least when I ask him to give me a demonstration of his Flemish and he can’t bring himself to do it, even though I’d have no idea if it was good or bad. “I’m just an introvert.”

When did he realise he was an introvert?

“When I was, like, six. I’m not great with crowds and all that kind of thing.”

So how does he handle the intense attention from crowds of fans at races?

“You kind of get used to it. I’m not the biggest fan when they grab you, you know?”

How does he cope with the long days of being on camera?

“Alone time — when it’s just me playing games or going for a walk, listening to music.”

Not for the first time, I want to give Norris an avuncular hug. The feeling intensifies after I inquire what advice he would give to his teenage self. When I normally ask people this question they have to think back decades, but Norris only has to recall life before the pandemic. “Be yourself as much as possible: don’t try to pretend to be a Formula One driver.”

Was there a time when he tried to fit himself into those expectations?

“You feel like there’s a persona, of looking like a superstar, and that just doesn’t need to happen. I can have my laughs and my giggles and, you know, sometimes I just drive a car. Simple as that.”

BY SATHNAM SANGHERA FOR THE TIMES

[fanficshiddles]

The Call Of Fate, Chapter 8

Jade was momentarily blinded by a bright flash of green, and she felt like the floor beneath her feet had just totally vanished. Which, it had.

She clung on to Loki for her life, even though he had his arm around her waist and wasn’t letting go. When they arrived at their destination a second later, she had both arms wrapped around him and her legs wrapped around his thigh, clinging to him tightly like a monkey.

‘We have arrived.’ Loki chuckled.

Jade opened her eyes and looked around, confused. They were in a bathroom, of a public place like a pub or club she thought instantly. Because of the slightly darker atmosphere and some posters as well as graffiti on the walls. But then as she lowered herself from Loki, she realised she recognised it.

‘Are we… Are we at Benny’s?’ She asked in shock, eyes wide as she looked at Loki.

He was grinning like the Cheshire cat, hands behind his back as he rocked back and fore on his feet. ‘Yep.’

‘And it’s… It’s the night my band’s playing! In two hours!’ Jade screeched as she suddenly realised what was going on.

‘Yep.’ Loki said again, still grinning.

‘Oh my god! Loki!’ Jade launched herself at him again and wrapped her arms up around his neck, legs around his waist.

Loki laughed and caught her, hugging her back. ‘Go enjoy being you and doing what you do best, cupcake.’

Jade squeezed him extra tight, holding back tears of happiness. ‘Thank you!’

When she was lowered down, she laughed as Loki’s clothes changed. He had been wearing Asgardian clothing, but changed into a blue shirt with black leather trousers.

‘Will I fit in better now?’ He asked, holding his arms out to the side.

‘You look great. Though you’d have fitted in fine anyway, you get all sorts of weirdos in this place.’ She teased.

Loki gasped and reached out to pinch her arm. ‘Watch it you.’

Jade giggled and went to head out of the bathroom, but paused. ‘Shit, I don’t have my bass!’ She said as she turned back towards Loki, who had disappeared and then re-appeared within seconds, holding her bass with a smile.

‘You’ll need this.’ He chuckled and handed it over.

Jade let out a squeal of excitement, she couldn’t believe that she was actually going to get to play with her band tonight.

When she walked out, the pub was pretty busy as usual. Her bandmates were getting set up on stage, as soon as they saw her, they all began screeching in excitement and ran to her, giving her a big group hug.

‘You made it!’ Selene, the lead singer said in delight.

‘Thanks to this guy!’ Jade grinned and pointed at Loki, who came up behind her.

‘We met him the other day, he came to organise it all. We were going to cancel because we felt it wasn’t right without you.’ The drummer, Faith said.

‘Aww guys, you don’t need to do that. You’d do great without me anyway.’ Jade said.

‘No way! You’re the heart of this band. We couldn’t go on without you.’ Mable, the guitarist gave Jade a big hug.

‘Thanks guys. I’m so excited to be here!’

Loki got a round of drinks in while the band set up stage. He was excited to see them play.

‘I can’t believe you set this up for me, Loki. Seriously, I can’t thank you enough.’ Jade said before they went on. She was downing her drink for a boost of confidence, she always got a little nervous before going on.

‘It’s my pleasure, cupcake. Well, I hope it is anyway. You guys better be good.’ He winked at her.

Jade narrowed her eyes at him with a smirk. ‘Oh, you’ll see.’ She winked back at him.

She finished her drink in a big gulp, then headed up on stage to start with the rest of them. The pub all settled, and Loki noticed it was packed now compared to when they first arrived. He had a good spot at the side, leaning against the wall.

Selene introduced the band to everyone before they started, earning huge cheers instantly. Loki couldn’t stop grinning, he knew this was going to be good.

The music started and Loki was locked on watching Jade. She was SO talented playing bass, totally in her element already.

Selene had amazing clean vocals, Loki was surprised how good she was. While Jade could sing, and could sing well, Selene was another level. The first song was a hauntingly beautiful song, slightly heavier at the chorus.

Loki clapped along with everyone, he caught eye with Jade who had a wicked glint in her eyes and he could tell she was holding back a smirk.

‘What is she up to?’ Loki mumbled to himself.

The music started for the second song, Loki watched carefully as Jade stepped up close to the mic that was set up on front of her. Which he knew made sense since she did backing vocals too, she’d told him…

But he noticed that she was looking at him, then suddenly she started roaring down the mic with the most incredible death scream Loki had ever heard.

His eyes almost popped out of his head and his jaw nearly reached the floor.

She had certainly kept that hidden from him during her practice sessions, only doing clean vocals.

It was only one line, then Selene came in with her clean vocals. Loki didn’t have to wait long to hear more screaming from Jade though, as she had a few good parts during the song they were playing. Suddenly it all made sense to him, how the band said they wouldn’t be who they were without her. She was more than just a bass player.

The crowd in the pub were all going nuts already, jumping around and quite a lot were singing/screaming along with the band. Loki was confused as to how they weren’t bigger than they were, they were all so talented.

Jade also did some clean backing vocals too for some of the songs.

Loki was just mesmerised, his heart felt so full seeing her having the best time on stage. Jumping around and head banging while playing bass and screaming down the mic. But he also hurt too, realising that this was truly who she was. And that Prince Arthur was trying to take all of that away from her.

In that moment, he wanted to snatch her up and run away with her. But he knew they’d be hunted down, it would defeat the purpose of her being able to perform on stage and be who she was, too.

He shook the bad thoughts from his mind and focused on enjoying the night.

At the end, the pub was so loud with cheers, clapping and screaming. The band were finished and took their bows, but the crowd chanting one more song constantly, made them unable to resist doing one more.

Afterwards, people crowded around them all, congratulating them and wanting to get some pictures with them. But Jade managed to eventually get over to where Loki was, waiting with her favourite drink that she desperately needed.

She almost downed the whole glass in one, but Loki managed to stop her. ‘Don’t want you passing out on me so soon!’ He chuckled.

‘That was so fucking incredible. I am buzzing!’ Jade said, practically bouncing on her feet.

‘You were incredible. You certainly kept that little secret talent of yours hidden!’

Jade laughed. ‘The shock on your face was a picture.’

‘Well, I was not expecting such a growly scream to come out of such a cute little cupcake.’ Loki teased and pinched her cheek, making her laugh again as she whacked his hand out of the way.

‘Yeah, you didn’t hear that during practice.’ She grinned.

‘About that, why not?’

‘I do practice. But in the shower. Don’t know why, I just prefer practicing that in there.’ Jade shrugged. ‘I don’t do it too often, want to try and protect my vocal cords. I find it makes it a bit more edgy when I do do them.’

Loki shook his head, still in disbelief.

Jade had to go back on stage to help clear up everything. Faith went over next to her.

‘Hey, Loki seems to have the hots for you. And you blew his socks off with your vocals, did he know about that?’ She asked.

‘Nope. And probably scared him, he’s no doubt wondering what kind of monster I am.’ Jade laughed.

‘Nah, he was turned on.’ Mable said as she’d been listening and joined in.

‘What? No he wasn’t.’ Jade laughed nervously.

‘He so was. He has eyes only for you, it’s painfully obvious.’ Faith said.

Jade blushed a little and tried to carry on with tidying up. ‘Don’t be silly… He’s a God.’

‘God’s still have the same functions as average men, don’t they?’ Faith said.

‘Probably bigger, know how to use it better too since they’ve been around longer.’ Mable said and winked at them both.

‘Oh my god, stop you guys!’ Jade hissed at them with a laugh. ‘Seriously, don’t even go there.’

The girls laughed and nudged her. Selene came over to see what was going on.

‘Just saying how Jade has a big admirer.’ Faith grinned.

‘Oh that Loki guy? Yeah, he is totally into you. Have you guys not slept together yet?’ Selene asked and folded her arms over her chest.

‘Selene! Don’t you start too.’ Jade whined.

‘What? You seriously haven’t? There’s so much chemistry between the two of you.’ Selene said.

‘You guys know about my situation, right?’ Jade asked quietly.

They all got serious all of a sudden, nodding sadly. ‘We do. Loki filled us in properly, we got some information from your mu…’ Faith trailed off, unsure on what to say.

‘It’s ok, Ann and Richard are still my parents, nothing will ever change that. They brought me up, loved and cared for me all my life.’ Jade smiled sadly.

The girls all had another group hug and pressed their heads together.

‘It will work out. I know it will.’ Selene said.

‘I don’t see how it will, but I really hope so.’ Jade sighed.

Loki and Jade stayed for a while at the pub, into the early hours of the morning partying with everyone there. Jade had the night of her life, having Loki there too was a blast and made it all that much better. He got along with everyone there, more so than he did with the Avengers, which amused Jade slightly.

She was sad to leave her friends, but she was tired and a bit drunk so was content enough to get back to bed.

‘Ready, cupcake?’ Loki asked as he put his arm around her after they stepped outside, out of view of people.

‘I don’t think I could ever be ready for this weird way of transportation.’

Loki then surprised her by scooping her up instead into his arms, she laughed and put her arms around his neck for extra security. Loki then teleported them back to her room at base.

‘Though not going to lie, the quickness is brilliant!’ She said as Loki put her down to her feet.

‘It is very handy.’ Loki chuckled.

‘Thank you again, Loki. So so much.’ She leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

‘My pleasure.’ He purred and cupped her cheek.

‘Tell me the truth though, are you disgusted and scared by what can come out of this mouth?’ Jade smirked.

‘Not at all. Honestly, I am in awe. You’ve got talent, can do it very well. Did someone teach you?’

‘Yeah, my neighbour used to be in a deathcore metal band. He was an expert at the death scream. Learnt a lot from him. You remind me of him a little actually, he could be rather moody. I think he was fed up of hearing me screaming and tearing my throat apart in the process in my garage.’

Loki laughed. ‘Well, you wouldn’t be very useful without your throat and vocal cords, so I’d say it’s a good thing he taught you.’

‘Yeah, me too.’ Jade smiled.

They then both realised that Loki still had his palm on her cheek.

But he pulled back when he realised and his cheeks turned a little pink, so did Jade’s.

‘See you in the morning, cupcake.’ Loki smiled.

‘Afternoon more like.’ She corrected him just before he teleported out of her room with a chuckle.

[lihhelsing]

What should I work on?

Ok, so I haven't done this over here yet, but with the new year I'd like to know which big fic projects should I focus on working on first and I'd love your help for it (bc I can't choose lol)

I'll give you a few WIPs and you can vote on whichever appeals to you the most. I'll try and give a quick context for them all down below if you want to peak!

The Matchmaker

Soulmates AU. Steve is a journalist desperately needing to prove himself and Eddie is a tech genius about to launch his dating app to prove he can match soulmates. Somehow they end up dating each other as a trail run for the app. | enemies-to-lovers, forced proximity, Steve's POV, Eddie is kind of a jackass but he has his reasons.

praying for the death of a rockstar

Rockstar x Popstar. Eddie's dream has crashed and burned. He lost his band, his life and the love of his life in one night by being a reckless mess. 5 years later he has a chance to make it right, but can he push away his own demons and fix everything? | Second chance romance, Eddie's POV, Angst.

Actor Steve/Fanfic Writer Eddie

That's pretty self-explanatory, but Eddie writes fanfics of his favorite TV show and one day he gets the opportunity to meet the actor who portrays his favorite character. I have this one kind of outlined but I'd definitely work more on it. | Meet cute, Pining, Eddie's POV

Popstar Steve/Older Brother Eddie

Also pretty self-explanatory, but Eddie has to take his little sister Max and her bestie to a popstar concert bc they can't go alone. At the concert the singer is about to get married on stage but things go terribly wrong and Eddie finds himself holding up a poster written 'Marry Me' and what do you say, Steve actually invites him to the stage and they strike up a marriage of convenience. The premise is based on the movie called Marry Me with JLo! | Marriage of Convenience, Eddie's POV, strangers to lovers.

[rustybottlecap]

Goodbye Volcano High charity concert tonight October 4th

From KO_OP's twitter:

We’re having a concert to celebrate the launch of Goodbye Volcano High! We’ll have local MTL bands Strange Froots and Sarah Feldman performing, with a special guest appearance by Worm Drama Free livestream Wednesday Oct 4th on http://twitch.tv/koopmode starting at 8pm! Absolutely iconic poster by @linaw_u thank you for doing our dinos in homecoming styleeee All ticket proceeds from those attending the live show will go to Black Healing Fund and @ResilienceMTL if you’re not attending but would like to donate: https://blackhealingfund.com/donate / https://resiliencemontreal.com/en/donate

[ring-of-galactic]

[ As soon as Saturn arrives, Petrel shoves a comically large box into his arms. ]

[ Inside are three outfits. The first one is a white v-neck with a sleeping luxio on it, black skinny jeans, and a dark blue beanie with shinx ears stitched onto the hat. The second is a black t-shirt with the words "pyrotechnic" in bold white letters on it, a pair of black basketball shorts, and a baseball cap with the Sinnohian Sylveons logo on it. The third is a set of yellow striped pajamas, slacks and a button up with matching yellow slippers. It even comes with a night cap! ]

[ Alongside the clothes are several rolled up posters- the entire Sinnoh dex and their numbers, a chart of the solar system, and a band called "Luxio and the Electric Shriekers", which has several people in Luxio-themed outfits. ]

[ .. There's more. A few fidget toys are tossed into the mix. A fidget cube, a star-shaped tough chewlery, a cherri-scented black space slime, and a blue sand timer! ]

[ "I hope you like em' .. ! Proton helped since he got payed yesterd- ack, don't know me!" ]

[Saturn squeaks when the box is shoved into his arms, and he struggles to carry it for a moment, opting to quickly sit down before he topples over entirely. That doesn't deter his excitement at all, however, as he immediately starts digging into the box, his tail quivering with excitement.

He pauses at the sheer volume of everything inside. The poor thing is visibly overwhelmed, sniffling a little, clearly not at all used to receiving this much of anything. Though, it doesn't seem to be in a negative way.

He spends quite a bit of time inspecting absolutely everything, as much as he possibly can, staying quiet and intentive as he does so. When he's done looking over every inch of everything, and carefully setting the groups of items down in their own respective piles... he bursts into tears. The kid shoots up and launches himself at Pestrel, wrapping around him with just about every limb he can, while burying his head into the crook of his neck.

It takes a moment for him to be able to talk, but when he does, he mumbles out repeated "thank you"s and "i love you"s over, and over, and over again, with no end in sight. Maybe it would've been better to wait until after dinner... it doesn't look like Saturn's going anywhere for awhile.]