#but at least seb is reading so that's on brand

[voxpraxis]

2 bros, sitting in a hallway, 5 feet apart cuz they're not gay

[aflame4goinghome]

Bad Reputation

s.f.k. x reader

chapter one

Series Summary: As a local jazz pianist in Nashville, you never fear being in the spotlight. Living in the same city, you’ve become very familiar with Sam Kiszka, a young musician who’s managed to gain a bad reputation in the city and throughout the country within his band’s fanbase. You’ve always just ignored Sam’s promiscuous and impulsive ways, but when you’re approached by the band to help repair his image, you’re given an offer you can’t refuse.

Word Count: 6k

Chapter Warnings: swearing, drinking, mentions of sex, mentions of smoking (tobacco & marijuana), flirting, arguing, sexual tension… you get it ;) (no smut… yet)

A/N: Hi guys! I’m so excited to share this series with you all. The idea came to me and I think it really ended up so good, I can’t wait for you to read it. Let me know in the comments or in my messages if you want to be added to the taglist for this series! See you soon :)

Listen to the playlist here :)

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The club was dark and crowded as you entered through the front door and made your way backstage to begin setting up. Your shoulders brushed past other people in the crowd, making it difficult for you to get to the back. On your way there, you paused for a moment, deciding to stop at the bar first for a much-needed drink.

“Hey, Sebastian!” you said, leaning over the bar as you greeted the bartender. You’ve been playing here for so many years, these guys were some of the closest friends you’ll ever have.

“Y/N, hey! Need a pick-me-up?” he said, turning his attention to you fully for a moment as the bar was bustling with other customers. Better make this quick.

“Can I just get a double rum and coke? Only a little bit of ice in it,” you asked, smiling politely as he nodded and began making your drink.

You take a second to look around the club as you wait, feeling a bit nervous as you take in how many people are actually there. You’ve played big crowds before, sure, but tonight felt extra intimidating for some reason.

You had sensed for a few months now that your big break might be coming soon, at least that’s what you’d hoped. You’ve grown to be quite popular in the greater Nashville area, but your reach hasn’t gone much further than that. You hope to branch off and move to New York one day, to play there professionally full-time.

For now, though, you make your living by playing gigs weekly, posting your music online, and taking a few brand deals here and there. It’s working well, and you make enough money to get by, but you’re not entirely fulfilled.

“Double rum and coke for the lovely lady,” Sebastian said, sliding your drink across the bar toward you with a smile. You return his smile and take it in your hand, tipping it toward him as a thank you.

“Thanks, Seb. I’ll be back later, you know I’m gonna need it,” you muttered, taking a long swig of your drink before squeezing your way through the rest of the crowd and finally making it to the backstage door.

Pushing the door open, you turned the corner toward your usual dressing room and started to set yourself up. You take your coat off, place it on the small couch with your tote bag, and then turn to the mirror to touch up your makeup before you take the stage in 15 minutes. You hear the door crack open, so you turn your head to look and see who it is.

“There you are, Lucy!” you exclaimed, moving to the door to greet her with a hug. “Where the hell have you been? I didn’t see you at the bar before.”

“Sorry, babe, Seb had me refilling the kegs downstairs for him… lazy bastard,” she scoffed, moving past you to plop down on the couch. “That’s a man’s job! That shit is so heavy!” You chuckle at her, finishing off your drink and then turning back to the mirror to finish applying your lipstick.

“He’s building up your strength, Luce! What happened to equal rights?” you laughed, making eye contact with her in the mirror as she rolled her eyes at you.

“Whatever, Y/N. I don’t see you lifting any heavy things,” she mutters, crossing her arms and throwing her head back.

Lucy was probably your best friend in the whole city. You met her in high school, being in the same jazz band class together, and immediately clicked. She works at Seb’s jazz club part-time as a bartender and server, which is how you started playing there. You play plenty of gigs at other places too, but this place became your regular haunt, thanks to Lucy’s help. She asked Sebastian to give you a chance to audition 4 years ago, and you’ve been playing there ever since.

The two of you live together in a little apartment in Midtown, only a couple blocks away from the club. After graduating high school, Lucy decided to go to Belmont for journalism while you ended up just starting to work on your music full-time. You made ends meet and helped pay rent while Lucy went to school, and she’s worked to make it up to you ever since.

She’s in her last semester of graduate school now at Vanderbilt, getting a business degree with hopes of founding a newspaper of her own one day. At 24, she seems like she’s finally getting her life together, but for you, it feels like you’re only just getting started. You try not to compare yourself to her or anyone else, which was something your mother always nagged you about. You knew she was right, but you can’t help it.

Despite all of that, you’re sure that you’ll break into the industry soon. Seb had planned to hook you up with his buddy who works in one of the recording studios downtown to get you in and record your own stuff. He’s just waiting on your word to tell him that the album is ready, but you haven’t been able to finish it for the life of you. You’re not sure if it’s fear or perfectionism, but it just doesn’t feel finished to you yet. For now, you’re filling your time with gig after gig, hoping to find inspiration.

“Stop sulking in here and get back to work, I have to be out there in 5,” you say, turning around to give her a stern look. She scoffs at you and then stands up, walking out the door.

“Break a leg!” she shouts as she rounds the corner, leaving you alone once more.

You have to admit that you’re feeling nervous. You compiled a few originals to test out tonight with the crowd, hoping to get some excited reactions to some stuff that you planned to include in your record. You had a few classics in the setlist too, including your favorite arrangements of Misty and Lullaby of Birdland, to make sure that the crowd doesn’t get too lost. But you hope that you’re new stuff will keep them captivated.

You take a deep breath, brushing your hands down your dress a few times to straighten it out and taking one last look in the mirror before exiting the dressing room and heading toward the stage. You hear Seb announce your name as you turn the corner and stride onto the stage, flashing a quick smile at the crowd before sitting down at the piano.

The crowd hushed as your fingers plinked out the first few notes, and then you started your first piece. Your hands glided across the keys with ease as you closed your eyes, getting lost in the music. Your first original piece went off without a hitch, the crowd cheering loudly at your extensive solo. They were enraptured by the covers you chose and your confidence was truly shining brightly off of you.

The set ended as quickly as it began and the club erupts in applause as you played the last note and stood up to take a bow. You look out into the crowd and see your friends back at the bar, flashing them a wide smile. Your eyes pan across the rest of the room, seeing all of the people cheering for you. This was what you were made for, you were sure of it. This is what you’re meant to do.

As your eyes stop at the back corner of the room, your expression quickly drops when you see the group at the large booth. It was a group of men from a band that you were very familiar with, bumping elbows at all the music venues in Nashville. It wasn’t the band specifically that you had a problem with, but just one specific man who always gave you trouble. Sam Kiszka.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, flashing one more smile at the crowd before rushing backstage to your dressing room. You were so not in the mood for his antics tonight, not after putting on such a good show. The rest of his brothers, you could deal with, but not him. You refuse to let him tear down the confidence in yourself that you only just built up.

You grabbed your things in your dressing room and then hurried back out to the bar, needing to get a refill on your drink before even attempting to socialize with anybody.

“Seb– another, please. Pour it heavy,” you lament, resting your elbows on the bar and putting your head in your hands. You hear him chuckle as he starts your drink and you let out a low groan.

“I take it you saw them, then?” Lucy said, leaning against the bar next to you. You nodded as your head still sat in your hands, not bothering to look up at her. “Y/N, they’re really not that bad, I don’t understand what your problem is.” Your head shot up and you glared at her frustratedly.

“Not that bad? Sam takes every opportunity he can to belittle my music and talent every time I see him,” you scoffed, taking your drink from Seb and taking a long sip. “And when he’s not berating me, he’s trying to get in my pants.” Lucy rolls her eyes, stepping behind the bar to grab some drinks and put them on her tray.

“As if I’d ever stoop that low. That man’s been in bed with every single woman in Nashville. Probably even taken women, too!” you ranted, crossing your arms and taking another sip.

“Just ignore him, babe. I know the rest of them would like to see you,” Lucy said, lifting the tray to rest on her shoulder. “These are their drinks. Just come with me.”

She walks away with the tray toward the other side of the club to find their table. You linger for a moment and then let out an annoyed groan, throwing back another sip before reluctantly following behind her.

You followed Lucy with your head down, trying not to look too eager or willing to go with her. As you approached the table, Josh was the first one to catch a glimpse of you, a toothy smile growing across his face.

“There she is, the woman of the hour,” Josh remarks, opening his arms wide to pull you in for a hug. You accept, squeezing him tightly before pulling away. You smiled shyly as the others greeted you as well, except Sam, of course. He was distracted, seemingly complimenting the top Lucy had on. Barf.

She’d already been there, done that, which isn’t exactly surprising. Your best friend always had an affinity for one-night stands, never really wanting to settle down or get too serious. You never cared at all, until she told you one morning that she went home with Sam after a show one night. She promised that she didn’t plan to do it again, claiming she used him just as much as he used her, and you left it at that.

She kept her word, never going home with him again, but that didn’t stop him from flirting with her every time he came in here. You rolled your eyes as you watched him glance down at her cleavage subtly, but not subtle enough for you not to notice. He finally notices you standing there, turning toward you with a smirk. Here we go.

“Y/N… that was quite the set,” Sam said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall next to their booth. Josh and Jake excuse themselves to go outside for a smoke, and Danny takes a seat back in the booth, scrolling on his phone. Alone, great.

“Thanks, I think,” you say sarcastically, taking a sip of your drink as you look up at him suspiciously. You didn’t trust that look on his face one bit, and you were determined to find out what he was up to.

“Oh, that wasn’t a compliment,” he said smugly. “If you’re gonna arrange music, at least write a song where the chord progressions actually make sense together.” He raises his beer bottle to his lips and tips his head back to take a sip. You scoff at him, trying to take a deep breath before you blow this entire thing out of proportion.

“Samuel, you wouldn’t know a good arrangement even if it hit you in your smug face,” you bit out, still doing your best to hold yourself back. You swing back the rest of your drink, letting the cold ice hit your lips before slamming it down on the table next to you. “It was a B flat and E flat blues. Who crowned you the king of jazz composition?”

His smirk grew wider across his face as his back left the wall and he began to tower over you. You sucked in a deep breath, wondering if you should've just kept your mouth shut, but frankly you didn’t care. His long hair frames his face as he looks down on you, his eyes dark and cold.

“I did,” he answered, his face growing uncomfortably close to yours. “You’re sexy when you’re angry.” His tongue skims his bottom lip as his eyes bore into yours. No. No. He is not gonna win this round.

“Is that why you enjoy bothering me so much?” you asked, keeping your eyes locked on his, insistent on not backing down. His lips turn upward into a smug smile as he leans back away from you, placing his back on the wall once more.

“Maybe. Or maybe I just think it’s fun,” he answers, smirking down at you.

“You’re such a fucking freak,” you scoff, crossing your arms. You notice a change in his eyes at your words, and you start to wonder if you took it too far.

“You’ve got no idea, sweetheart,” Sam says, stepping forward again to stand over you.

“Gross,” you mutter under your breath, looking up at him, trying to keep a straight face.

“Now, I don’t think you mean that,” Sam whispered, leaning down further to speak into your ear. “I think you like it, actually.”

“You wish,” you state, still maintaining eye contact. His mouth twitches and turns up into a smirk as one of his arms snakes around your waist.

“All that blushing you’re doing says otherwise, doll. Even in this dark club, you can’t hide it,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. Fuck.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirked. You watch silently as Sam puts his beer bottle down on the table and then reaches into the front pocket of his shirt, pulling out a lighter and a blunt. “C’mon Daniel, let’s go outside.”

Sam shoots you a wink before nodding his head in Danny’s direction and the two of them walk toward the front entrance. They pass the twins on their way out, who both turn to look at you with puzzled expressions as they sit down at the booth. You sit down next to Josh as you try to adjust the annoyed look that is so clearly plastered across your face.

“What the hell was that all about?” Jake asked, raising his eyebrow at you and taking a sip from his glass of whiskey sitting on the table. You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes, not even having an answer to give.

“The usual, of course. Can’t seem to leave me alone,” you muttered. The two of them let out a breathy laugh as Josh reaches over to put his arm around you.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about him, darling,” he offers, smoothing his fingers along your shoulder. “It’s all just show.”

“For it just being show, it sure does feel pretty insulting,” you say, fiddling with your fingers atop the table.

“You’ll adjust eventually,” Jake says. “We like havin’ you around, so don’t run off just yet.” A smile grows across your face at Jake’s subtle attempt at an olive branch.

“I’ll tough it out, I promise,” you answer. You suppose you can adjust to Sam’s antics to spend time with them. You could use all the friends in the industry as you could get.

“How long have you been playing piano?” Josh asks, taking a sip of his tequila soda.

“Oh, I started lessons when I was 6,” you answered with a smile.

“That’s sick, I started pretty young too,” Jake replies, resting his arms on the table. Bonding with successful musicians has been your dream and the fact that you’re getting along so well made you really happy.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard! Believe it or not, I am actually a bit of a fan of your band. Casually, of course,” you smile, trying to be chill about it. It wasn’t entirely a lie, you are just a casual fan, but you’ve definitely watched an interview or two as well, leading to you knowing more about them than you intended to.

“Oh, yeah? Which one of us is your favorite, huh?” Josh asks smugly, raising an eyebrow at you hopefully. God, the amount of testosterone in this room could be cut with a knife.

“Hmmm… Danny,” you jest, elbowing Josh softly. The three of you break out into laughter before you check your phone to see the time. 12:32 am. Yikes, it’s late.

“Well, I gotta head out, unfortunately,” you say, standing up from the booth. Before you had the chance to walk off, Josh stopped you.

“Hey, uh, we’re gonna be in the studio on Monday for a few hours to work on some new music… would you wanna stop by?” Josh asked, looking up at you hopefully. “It could be a cool way for you to get exposed to how the recording process works.”

“Oh, wow, that would be incredible!” you smiled. “That’s such a kind offer, thank you so much! I’ll definitely be there.”

“Perfect! I’ll text you the details,” he says with a smile, and you wave goodbye to them both and walk over to the bar to find Lucy.

“Ready to head out?” you ask, leaning over the bar toward her.

“Sure, let’s go!” she answers, turning around to grab her jacket and bag.

“God, I have so much to fill you in on…” you say as you walk out the door toward your apartment. You told her all about your brief run-in with Sam, and then Josh’s invitation to the studio as you walk down the street. She quite literally squeals when she hears the news.

“OH MY GOD, Y/N this could be it! This could be your big break!” she exclaimed as you turned the corner to the path to your building. “If you get in with their producers, this could really get you started! You have to make a good impression.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m freaking out! I really can’t screw this up,” you said as you turn the key in the door.

“You could never screw it up, babe. They’re gonna love you, I promise,” Lucy reassured you, hugging you tightly before branching off to her own bedroom.

All you had to do was get through the weekend, and then the day of your dreams will be all yours. Fuck, you don’t have anything prepared! As you shut the door to your bedroom, you rushed to sit down at your keyboard, turning it on. You pulled out your phone and opened the voice memos app, pressing start and then setting it down. You have to get a good demo down if you want to impress the producers at the studio and book a session there.

You spent all of Saturday and Sunday recording a few of your originals on your phone, taking dozens of takes to make sure each of them was perfect. This is it, it’s your moment.

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Your alarm goes off at 8 am, giving you two hours until you’re meant to meet Greta Van Fleet at the studio. Josh texted you yesterday with the time and address, emphasizing that you shouldn’t overthink it. He knew that you’d be freaking out, and he was right.

You’re hoping that a cool shower will wake you up and help you shake the nerves off. You get up out of bed, rub your eyes, and then grab your towel and walk out of your bedroom to the bathroom.

As the cold water hits your back, you start to think over the day that you have ahead of you. If everything goes the way you planned, then you might leave today with a record deal, or plans to meet up to make a deal. You appreciated Josh’s help so greatly, you really weren’t expecting it. He’s always been so kind to you, more so than the rest, but you figured that it was just the way he was. Now, it feels like he really has your back.

All you had to do was make it through today without any incidents with Sam. You hope that the other guys have already briefed him and told him to be on his best behavior, but you doubt that he’ll abide by that. You can hold your own, though, and you doubt that he’d pull something too obscene while working.

After drying off and getting ready to go, you find that you still have about 20 minutes until you need to leave. To pass the time, you sat down in your bed and opened up Instagram to scroll mindlessly for a little while until you had to drive downtown.

As you scroll down, your eye is caught by a post by The Nashville Fiddle, which is a local magazine. The Fiddle posts mostly about drama and celebrities, and you usually ignore everything they post, since you try not to give gossip the time of day. But this time, your eyes were stuck on their post, with a video of Sam Kiszka, belligerent and wasted outside of a club downtown Saturday night.

In the video, you can see Sam flirting with a girl outside of the club when a big, burly man comes up to him angrily. Clearly, this girl was taken, and her boyfriend was not happy. You can see Sam hollering back at him, getting in his face as he slurs his words before the man takes a large swing at him. Then, you see Danny show up behind him and pull him back, dragging him down the street, far away from the scene.

How could he be so stupid? Flirting with girls with boyfriends is bad enough, but it’s even worse to get into an argument and get caught on camera. He should know that he’s a public figure and that people can spread this kind of stuff around. What was he thinking?

You check the time and see that it’s about time to go, so you grab your tote, pick up your keys, and then head out the door. As you drive downtown, you take a few deep breaths. It’s not a big deal, you tell yourself. Everything will be fine.

Soon enough, you pull into a parking spot in front of the studio and put your car in park. 9:59 am. Just on time. You get out of the car, throw your keys into your bag, and then head toward the front door. After opening the door, you walked in and told the person at the front desk that you were meeting the band, and they directed you to the right studio.

As you enter the studio, you walk in to only find Danny sitting there. He looks up from his drum set and waves, standing up to greet you.

“Hey, Danny… where are the others?” you asked, hugging him and then taking a seat on a chair nearby. Danny lets out a long laugh, trying to compose himself before answering.

“Oh, they are never here on time. This is considered early,” he answers, smiling widely as he goes to sit back down at his set. “I wouldn’t expect any of them for at least another thirty minutes, if not longer.” You laugh along with him, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Ah, Josh should have told me! Now I feel embarrassed for being so early,” you say, looking down at your phone for the time. 10:11 am.

“Nah, he just can’t admit that he’s always chronically late. He’s in denial,” Danny jokes. “Do you want anything while we wait? There’s coffee and tea over there.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice actually,” you answered, standing up to walk over to the coffee cart. “I’ll be honest, I’m not much of a morning person.” Daniel laughs, standing up to walk over with you.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever met a jazz player that was,” he says with a smile. “I think it’s just part of your DNA.” You laugh, nodding your head in agreement.

“You might be right. It’s not our fault, we play at night!” you say, pouring yourself a cup of coffee.

“Sam’s the same way, y’know. Stays up ‘til ungodly hours of the night, and then doesn’t roll out of bed until after noon,” he notes, laughing to himself. You laugh awkwardly as you add cream to your cup, cringing at the possibility of having anything in common with Sam Kiszka.

Almost as if he read your mind, Sam walked through the door, sunglasses blocking the dark bags under his eyes. He’s clearly hungover, rubbing his temples as he waltzes over to the cart and grabs the pot of coffee, pouring it into his own cup.

“Rough weekend, Samuel?” you asked teasingly, having already read about his escapades from this weekend. You can see his eyes roll behind the tint of the sunglasses as he takes a sip of his black coffee.

“Don’t start with me today, sweetheart,” he mumbled, pouring more coffee into his cup to make up for what he already drank, and then walking over to the corner to sit down on the sofa. He puts his feet up on the cushions as he takes a sip and then lays his head back against the armrest.

“See what I mean?” Danny asks, laughing as he walks over to his set and starts playing on his own, seemingly practicing. The idea sends a shiver down your spine. Could you and Sam be more similar than you thought? No, no way, you thought to yourself.

Not long after, Josh and Jake walk through the door and things can finally start moving. Josh walks over to make a cup of tea and then takes a seat on a stool, taking a slow sip. You walk over to him, hoping that his usual cheery disposition would calm your nerves.

“Good morning, lovely,” Josh smiled, patting your shoulder softly. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good, I’m good,” you answered nonchalantly with a shy smile.

“Good. We’re still waiting for our manager, Jodie, to arrive, so just hang tight,” he says, taking another sip of his tea.

“Hey, you know what? How about you play us something?” he asks excitedly, his eyes lighting up. “Could be a good way to wake us up, huh?”

Your eyes shoot open, looking around the room at the rest of the guys. Danny is nodding excitedly and Jake walks over to his guitar stand, picking up his Gibson SG and slinging it over his head. Sam isn’t paying attention, his sunglasses have come off and his eyes are shut as he reclines on the couch.

“Well, okay… I guess it couldn’t hurt,” you answered, walking over to Sam’s keyboard next to the drumset. You turn it on and adjust the settings, giving it a funkier sound before taking a deep breath and starting to play.

You decide to play Higher Ground, by Stevie Wonder, falling into the groove of the intro of the song as your fingers move across the keys. Danny’s face lights up as he listens closely to what you’re playing, then starts playing along. Jake follows suit, adding his guitar into the mix, and playing along with you. Of course, everyone knows Stevie Wonder, but being able to play with a band was just so cool to you.

People keep on learnin’

Soldiers keep on warnin’

World keep on turnin’

‘Cause it won’t be too long

Josh sings along, his voice fitting perfectly in the range of the song. The four of you are really grooving now, and it is so fun for you. It’s been years since you’ve played with others, and you loved it.

You watch as Sam lifts his head from the couch, opening his tired eyes to look over at you all. For a moment there, you almost think that he might be smiling, but you shake it off. You’re surprised to see him rise from the couch and walk over, grabbing his Rickenbacker off the stand and putting the strap over his head. Oh, he’s gonna play along…

Sam starts plucking his bass, along with the rest of the song. You knew that they’d all played in jazz bands before, and this song was a staple, but it surprised you how easy it was to join together and play. It was almost like you belonged there.

As you start a short piano solo, their manager walks through the door and sits down on the couch. She seems to nod at you to keep going, so you finish your solo and then end the song. You’re suddenly caught by surprise as Josh starts applauding, smiling widely as he walks over to you. He stands behind you, putting his hands firmly on your shoulders, squeezing them.

“You’re an incredible talent, Y/N, truly,” Josh remarked, smiling from ear to ear as he left your side and went to sit back down. You smile shyly and get up from the bench behind the piano to go sit down on the couch with Jodie. The rest of the guys start talking cacophonously as you start your conversation privately with her.

“It’s true, you’re really good,” she says honestly, reaching out to shake yours. “I’m Jodie, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Oh, you have? Thank you so much, it’s great to meet you. I assume it was Josh who told you about me, he’s the one who invited me today,” you answer, smiling shyly at the compliment.

“I first heard about you from Sam actually… he had a lot to say about your talent on the keys,” she says, catching you completely by surprise. Sam? Is she being serious right now?

“Did he now?... Interesting,” you replied, your tone feigning confidence. “Well, I’m honored to be here today. I’ve been meaning to finally get into a studio here in Nashville.”

“Yes, I heard from Josh that you plan on recording an album of original songs,” Jodie remarks. “I’m happy to have you here! Hopefully, we can get you to work a bit! Not to mention, it’s quite nice to have a bit more of a gender balance.” You laugh together for a moment before she gets up to greet the guys, going over the agenda for the session.

They go through a few new songs, trying to get it all down perfectly. You just sit and watch, absolutely mesmerized by watching the professionals work. You even escaped to the booth for a while to see the mechanics of the equipment, talking to some of the sound techs that work there. It was a really rewarding learning experience for you.

“Okay, that’s a wrap, guys! Good work today, we’ll be back here at the same time on Friday,” Jodie says. “Sam, can you hang back for a sec?” She walks back over to sit next to you on the couch, nodding her head to motion for Sam to join you. Once she’s certain that everyone else has left the studio, she starts talking.

“So, I’ve had an idea. Just hear me out,” she started, somewhat apprehensively. “Y/N, I was thinking about how highly the guys speak about you, and how much untapped talent you have.” Okay… this is getting weird.

“And Sam, I’ve been thinking about ways to improve your public image and get you out of your rut,” she finished, trailing off as she saw Sam’s annoyed expression.

“Okay, first of all, I am not in a rut,” he said, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms as he leaned back on the couch.

“That’s not the point,” she snapped back. “My point is that I think I might have thought of a way to solve all of our problems.” You raise your eyebrow at her, still not really understanding what she’s getting at.

“What could possibly solve both of our problems?” you ask suspiciously.

“Like I said, just hear me out…” she says, but Sam interrupts her.

“Jodie, just spit it out already,” he groaned, growing frustrated.

“I think you guys should pretend to date!” she finally spat out, looking nervously at your reactions. Your jaw dropped as she finished her sentence, unsure that you even heard her right. Sam, however, already shot up out of his seat and stood angrily above you both.

“No, fuck no, absolutely not. This is ridiculous,” he starts ranting, but she cuts him off.

“Just listen to me, Sam. You’d improve your reputation by having a charismatic and talented girlfriend, the fans would love her! And Y/N, you’d gain followers and fans for your music career, and our label can get you started in our studio. Boom, both problems are fixed.”

“No! How could I even pretend to be interested in him? It’s impossible,” you complained.

“Woah, okay, try not to sound too disgusted,” Sam said, crossing his arms with a scoff.

“Don’t act like you didn’t react the exact same way, you asshole,” you scoff, staring daggers into him.

“Whatever, it’s not the same thing,” he spits back.

“Whatever, this isn’t productive,” you admit, crossing your arms in your seat.

“Exactly. It won’t even be that bad. Besides, you’re both benefiting here! It’s perfect,” Jodie says proudly.

“Well, I don’t know about perfect, but I guess it does kind of make sense…” you muttered, looking up at Sam nervously. He raised an eyebrow at you, walking toward you.

“You want to be my fake girlfriend, Y/N?” he teased. You roll your eyes and stand up to be more level with him, hating him towering over you.

“Shut up, Sam,” you replied, a hint of pink tinting your cheeks as your eyes locked on his.

“So? You guys are in?” Jodie asked hopefully. You and Sam exchange a look, then look back at her and nod.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re in,” Sam answered, looking over at you with a smirk before walking toward the door. “Now, are we done here? I’ve got places to be.” You roll your eyes and reach down to grab your bag.

“We’re done here, go,” you mutter, slinging your bag over your arm. Sam walks out the door as quickly as he had came in, and you follow soon after him.

As you drive back home from the studio, you think about all of the day’s events. You almost can’t even believe that you agreed to be Sam’s girlfriend, fake or not. But you have to admit that it’s going to be great for your career, this is exactly the big break you need. You feel confident that her choice to ask you was based on your talent, so the unconventional means of gaining popularity didn’t bother you.

It kind of excited you to be included with such a famous rock band like theirs– going on tour, going to the studio, seeing the magic happen. Having to spend time with Sam was just the price you had to pay to jumpstart your music career and get into the music industry. You’re not sure what type of a commitment this arrangement is going to entail for you, but you’re honestly kind of looking forward to it. You have to admit that “Rockstar’s Girlfriend” kind of has a ring to it.

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

chapter two

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment or send me a message if you want to be added to the taglist for this story, or if you want to be tagged in all of my stories! See you soon :)

Taglist:

@highladyofasgard @gvfpal @childinthegardenn @myleftsock @peaceloveunitygvf @gretasfallingsky @gretavanfan @itsafullmoon @jordie-gvf

[gloromeien]

Hellooooo I hope your day is good? Have an ask!

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love! <3

Whoo, my first ask! And from the exceptional and lovely @zenaidamacrouras1, whose fic Monoclonius I'm re-reading right now and loving just as much as the first time. An all-time fave, really, with just the best, sexiest, nerdiest Bucky and the sweetest dad Steve. Check it out if you haven't!

But this of course is supposed to be about *my* fics, so let's get started.

Five Favorite Fics That I've Written:

History Repleating (Or the Proper Care and Feeding of One Steven Grant Rogers), Modern AU, Shrunkyclunks, kidfic

Summary: Captain America!Steve receives a letter from Dr. J.B. Barnes, Brooklyn Historical Society. Except not quite that J.B. Barnes. This leads to Steve and Bucky having a meet cute via Bucky's work as a history teacher. Smut, fluff, and a smidge of angst ensue.

Comments: This one is, IMHO, the best fic I've ever written. Which is not to say it's good, exactly--your mileage may vary--but I don't think I'm ever going to get to this place again. It was winter 2022. We were all just re-emerging from lockdown. I was in the process of caring for my sweet little corgi girl at the end of her life, and I just needed some joy, you know? Something fun to look forward to. I feel like I channeled a lot of those emotions, that grief, into the Steve in this fic. Though it's not a sad fic by any means! It's full of bad jokes and sarcasm and sweetness and found family and people just caring for each other beyond reason. Bucky here is a bright light that comes into Steve's life at just the right moment, that allows him to believe that he could have a real future with someone to love. I really needed to hear that right about then, and so, as Alexander Hamilton sings, I wrote my way out. For that reason and many more, this will always have a special place in my heart.

Last Exit to Brooklyn, Modern AU, Shrunkyclunks, SoulMark

Summary: When Steve Rogers emerged from the ice, he wound up not only in a whole new century, but also with a brand-new soul mark. Knowing that the person he was destined to be with might be just around the corner made it easier for him to settle into a future where happily ever after was a sure thing. Until the Romanian drummer of a 'popular in Europe' heavy metal band, and freight car of personal baggage, come crashing into his life...

Comments: This fic is a confluence of so many things I really, really, really love. Soul mark AUs, for one. I looooooooove those. But I only wanted to write one if I felt like I could bring something new to the table. Once I hit on this particular idea, I knew I had to write it. Also, Tommy Lee!Seb kept me up nights, friends. I loved his look in that so much. As a teen, I had a whole hair metal phase. And it was a fun way to pay a little tribute to Seb's Romanian heritage, so... anyway. I particularly adore some of my Romanian OCs in this--two of them being not so veiled versions of Nadja and Laszlo in What We Do in the Shadows, LOL. Feeling kind of weird about tooting my own horn here, being Canadian and all (Sorry. Sorry. Sorry?) But anyway, they were all really fun to write, even if I think the fic ended up being a little too long and more angsty than I expected. A good thing? A bad thing? You can decide for yourself. ;)

Cut Him Out in Little Stars, Medieval AU, kidfic, arranged marriage

Summary:

Two Houses, both alike in dignity In fair Venora, where we lay our scene

Three years after a brutal, bloody war that saw their formerly friendly queendoms at odds for the first time in history, Prince Steven Rogers of House Grant seeks to solidify the peace between Lehigh and Venora through an alliance--marriage with Prince James Barnes of House Buchanan, his childhood friend turned unexpected enemy. But after years as the Fist of Hydra and a long recovery from brainwashing and torture, Bucky isn't in a place to marry anyone, let alone someone he doesn't even remember. Stubborn to the core, afflicted by tragic losses, and still half in love with someone who might only be a memory, Steve and his family journey to Lynbrooke, the capital of Venora, to attempt to end the tension between their queendoms, and perhaps heal his wounded heart.

Comments: My least-viewed fic by a wide margin, but one that I really love. Playing with the big tropes can be so much fun, and arranged marriage is one of the biggest and messiest. I also rewatched Seb in Kings right before writing this, and it started as a crossover between the world of that series and the idea of arranged marriage. But eventually it took its own path. I have a total soft spot for the Bucky in this one. Probably the most broken I've ever written him. I shy away from Winter Soldier recovery fics--love reading them, will never write one myself--and this is the closest I'll probably get to that. One of the reasons it's close to my heart is because I feel like they really earn their happy ending in this one.

A Slaying in Scarlet, a LOTR Mystery

Summary: On the eve of Aragorn’s coronation, Legolas and Elrohir are charged with investigating a brutal murder at the Citadel.

Comments: My AO3 account is split into two eras. From about 2002-2010-ish, I was heavily involved in the LOTR fandom, specifically writing Legolas/Elrohir, but also a few other pairings, including some OOC pairings along the way. After that, I went off to be a romance writer for a little while (and yes, I'm going to shamelessly plug my Stoker & Bash mystery romance series, because I'm fucking proud of them.) Then watching FatWS knocked me for six, and here we are, all Stucky, all the time. All this to say that my early LOTR work, I am certain, is not good. I have not re-read anything in ages, nor will I ever, most likely. But it was in writing those fics that I found a bit of my voice, and they gave me courage as a writer, and so I couldn't leave them off this list completely. This one is a Sherlock Holmes type deal, because I am also obsessed with mysteries. Hopefully it stands up a little bit. Buyer beware.

A Place to Rest and Remember Yourself (In My Arms), Shrunkyclunks

Summary: It's 2015, and Steve is living in a post-publicly coming out world. His every move is scrutinized in the tabloids and on social media, he's still wrestling with life in the 21st century, and the paparazzi never give him any peace. Making friends who aren't co-workers is practically impossible, let along dating. His solution? Have a regular, no-strings 'arrangement' with one of Natasha's honeypots. Bucky is a former spy and adventurer who used to work for S.H.I.E.L.D., but left for *reasons*. Having just gotten his heart ripped to shreds by a traitorous ex, he finds the idea of a discreet, 'with benefits' arrangement with his teenage-years crush very, very appealing. But you know what they say about what happens the minute you stop looking for love...

Comments: I wanted to write something quick and fun and smutty as hell for Stucky Week 2023. Instead... *sighs* You'll note that this ended up being 18 freaking chapters long. Why am I like this? I wish I knew.

One of my fic-writing missions is to give Steve Rogers the ending he deserves. The MCU did not treat him or his PTSD right--this is well-established in both fandom and a ton of metas more insightful than anything I could ever write on the subject. But where I feel like I maybe can address this a little is in fic. My aim here was to just spoil Steve rotten. To give him the literal world back, in the form of a Bucky who has serious wanderlust. It was also so much fun to play with Doctor Strange and the whole Sanctum Sanctorum stuff, Layla and Marc, Darcy of course, Nat and Sam. The 'love shield' Steve throws up in front of the press was inspired by Harry Windsor's PR move from many moons ago. My favorite part, about this fic, about writing fics in general, is when love just kind of happens to two people who aren't really paying attention, and suddenly it's everything, and they have to conform their lives to this new gorgeous reality. Anyway that's what I'm going for in every fic I write.

This was more talking about myself than any Canadian should do in a month, let alone a day. I need to go lie down. I don't love tagging other authors in these things, but if @burberrycanary, @bluesimplicity73, @musette22, @leveragehunters, or @dontcallmebree haven't done this yet and feel like it, I would love to read your thoughts on your incredible fics. And you, readers, please don't miss any of their tremendous work. Take it from me, their amazing stories (and Zenaida's) keep many a monster at bay when the night is dark and full of terrors. Big love to everyone out there sharing their creative endeavors with the world! <3

[georgiapeach30513]

Hi Jen. ❤️

So I work in marketing and my team makes videos and interviews all the time with C level executives for our brand/website and it’s really funny to see when it’s obvious someone is reading off a script (interviewer). Sometimes it’s beyond cringe when their eyes move and shift and you can see it too obviously. 😂 but usually it’s because these people can’t or didn’t have time to memorize what they needed to say so we try and make it look natural (it usually doesn’t).

Also, camera cut away angles. Ask a personal or awkward question and have the response be a VO where you hear the person talking but don’t show them or their face. Instead play some generic red carpet footage of someone else (in marketing we get stock photos and stock videos of like airplanes and outer space and traffic while a person speaks over the images)

This interview reminded me of a typical day at work.

Keep up the entertainment on your blog. You rule! 😜😂❤️

You bring up some excellent points. Obviously this is just talking and someone noticing things, don’t take off with this and run and twist words. It’s an observation from someone who does similar work, guys.

Thank you for your observation, anon. I’d much rather talk about Chris and Seb. At least he had emotion

[amyreads]

I had some questions if that's alright with you.

1. What inspires your characters appearance and sense of fashion? All of your characters have such great character designs.

2. Would you say there's a difference in genre between what you like to read and what you like to write or is it the same?

3. And last but not least, what are your favorite genre of IFs to play? Is there a specific genre or type of ro/trope you enjoy?

Of course! I love these kinds of questions! Long post warning!

1. What inspires your characters appearance and sense of fashion? All of your characters have such great character designs.

Thank you so much! I worked really hard to get them to fit a vibe that felt perfect for me. I really wanted them to be fashion-forward since a lot of being fame and being visible is being on top of trends. Characters like G have stylists so G is very trendy. The characters are also very expressive not only with their music but their clothes. None of the characters are very shy when it comes to their sense of fashion was is exciting because I love describing outfits. I know some authors find it tedious and 'amateur' which I kinda see why since it's a bit juvenile but I love love love it.

For G, I was inspired by 80s rockstars with long curly hair as well as Cher in the 70s haha I knew I wanted G to have a very prominent detail and it's their long (straight, in their case) black hair. G's tattoos are sort of a mark of their growth as an artist. When they first started, they were essentially 'pure' in the sense that they had no tats and were very young. As they grew older, the tats also grew in number. Touched by fame. SO poetic /j G is very flamboyant and they are very experimental/adventurous with their clothes.

This goes for Victoria. As a model and actress, she's very fashion forward. She prefers dresses over pants and that's kind of her brand haha ! Her red hair and the fact that her stage name ends in Valentine made red her brand, and she takes advantage of that. Branding is very important for her and G, so it helps when you have that *thing* that reminds people of you.

For Seven, the infamous (lol) bandana was something that just came to me. I also wanted Seven to have a "staple" look and I just think it looks cool! Again, it's very reminiscent of the old age rock stars. If Seven were a cartoon character, the outfit they wore at the party (industrial shirt/red and black striped undershirt) would be their "everyday outfit" I think. It really shows their personality; Seven's oversized, messy look reflects them in a way. The fact that it looks deliberately disheveled but Seven worked hours to look good is very telling of who they are. Seven likes to pretend they don't care but we all know that's not the truth!

August has a very calming quality to them. Very grounding. In a story where the ROs are all messes, August's penchant for silence and calm shines. Their colors are a nice brown, green, beige. Very neutral and low-key. They wear a lot of sweaters and cardigans and linen pants because it's comfortable and cozy. Their clothes reflect their personality the most. Kinda reminds me of pajamas in a way!

Orion is pretty self explanatory. While everyone else considers BOTB and everything an outlet for their creativity, Orion sees it for what it is: a job. He dresses professionally to set him apart from the band and everyone else. He's there to work. He's very clean-cut, and very neat so it shines in his clothes.

Seb is well, I wanted Seb to be very unassuming and just normal hahaha. Everyone else dresses really stylishly and I wanted Seb to be really low-key. It's obvious he has no desire to be in the spotlight and that shows with his plain, basic clothing.

2. Would you say there's a difference in genre between what you like to read and what you like to write or is it the same?

Hm, up until recently I used to only read fantasy. I think one of my first if games was Choice of Rebels, among a few others. Writing fantasy is what helped build up my skill. All I've ever wanted to be was a fantasy author until one day...I just started hating it. I hated writing fantasy. I LOVE LOVE reading it, but I hate writing fantasy. I don't know why. I think it's because I fail to convince myself. My suspension of disbelief is very strict when it comes to my own writing, while another writer can convince me of anything in fiction so as long as it makes a lick of sense. It's weird!

I still love fantasy as a reader but I don't think I could ever write it. I do want to try one day though!

I'm more strictly slice-of-life nowadays, aside from Body Double. I think it's easier for me. I love romcoms. I love romance, which hasn't changed. I find it funny that I'm not very romantic in real life but romance is like a baseline requirement for me in stories.

One thing that stays the same is that I love angst. Reading and writing it. I don't like fluff, it makes me cringe. (There will be fluff in Infamous aha). I don't like power fantasies or any of that. Ah, I don't know!

3. And last but not least, what are your favorite genre of IFs to play? Is there a specific genre or type of ro/trope you enjoy?

I'll read anything! I don't have a favorite, I don't think, but I do love urban/modern fantasy. A mixture of slice-of-life and fantasy is the sweet spot for me.

Specific type of RO I like are the emotionally unavailable/closed off ones or the mean ones haha. I do not like easy romances. I like working for it and I think when an RO doesn't want my character it makes it so much more fun and the payoff is so much more satisfying. I need yearning...longing. I need slow burn!

I know there are readers who like playing games where the MC is important loved but I'm not a fan. I like my MC being a regular person that's treated accordingly depending on the character and the story. I don't want my MC to get special treatment or to be powerful just because they're the MC. It has to make sense to me. For me, the ROs should have a greater purpose that goes beyond just romancing the MC.

I get a lot of flak for making the MC an underdog in infamous, but MC is not meant to be the most important person in the room at the start of the story. They need to earn it, which I think feels better.

My favorite RO from any IF game is Nash so <3 I guess that says it all hahah

I hope you liked my answers! This was really fun for me lolol

[f0point5]

I actually like that petty bitchy side of Lando. I mean, If I gave up my second win for a teammate AND then he fucked up my next race, only for him to finish second, the same place he would be, if he didn’t attack me, I would probably be disabling that special someones breaks.

I know Lando sucks at starts and thats the root of the problem, but they keep pretending to be family and supportive in McLaren AND they actually aren’t.

Lando’s stayed with them even when everything was shit, even when he could have gone to better team. They expect loyalty, but don’t offer it back.

I read somewhere that when they are winning they’re doing it as a team, but when they are losing it’s just Lando. They are ready to win with him, but not ready to help him win. RBR/Merc/Ferrari would have never let what happen today go.

Remember when Charles ruined Sebs quali, they took away his next win? This is a team sport, but McLaren treat it like that only when it works for them.

I’m a firm believer Lando should have crushed with Oscar today, that would teach him to think twice next time. Baku, Max and DR style. Make McLaren choose.

Personally, I’m a fan only of being a bitch if you are that bitch with your whole chest. And Lando isn’t. He’s passive aggressive and he gets worried and backtracks. Just like in Hungary when he sat up front trying to prove Oscar couldn’t catch him, made the team talk him down off the ledge, and then let him past in the most embarrassing way possible for both of them. Because bitchy would have been to win the race anyway - follow through on who you want to be my guy.

McLaren pretending to be a family when Yak Brown would clearly sell his grandmother to be where Toto Wolff is is pretty hilarious. Especially when you look at the way McLaren as an organisation have been acting across other racing series.

But fundamentally, I think this all comes down to the fact that McLaren want to be keep the lineup they have. And frankly, I think the one they’re in danger of losing is Oscar. He’s younger, he can afford to be a second driver at Red Bull for a couple of years, for example. He has no brand loyalty, he didn’t grow up with McLaren and he is very detached from Zak and the papaya cult, whereas Zak has his claws in Lando deep. And Oscar has Mark Webber In his ear telling him that being a second driver is not an option. Lando can’t afford to leave McLaren now, he wouldn’t. So they can do what they want with him for at least the next couple of years in this current driver market. McLaren want a champion but they don’t care who it is - they don’t have to risk Oscar for it to be Lando when it could be either one of them next year.

I actually don’t go for teams playing this team game and treating their drivers like kids. I like the RB strategy of hire for the job that’s available, you’re either the superstar or the sidekick. I think that’s the best way a team works. Playing “sharing is caring” like kindergarten teachers is silly. You can do what McLaren are doing and say “oil rises to the top” but then you have to wait for it to separate itself out which is messy.

But I have to say this, helping your driver win a championship shouldn’t mean that in every race he needs help. Helping is what Checo did in Abu Dhabi. It’s not telling Oscar to sit behind Lando for 9 races to mitigate Lando’s mistakes. That’s not teamwork, and if a driver needs that much help then how do you justify them being the priority driver? For his part, Lando has said that he doesn’t expect to be handed positions by Oscar and that he’s here to race and I respect that. I think that’s the right attitude, especially when you’re the reason you’re behind him in the first place.

Yes, Lando could have crashed with Oscar to teach him a lesson…a lot of drivers would have. But a Lando that would have crashed with Oscar is also a Lando that wouldn’t have let Oscar last in Hungary. I think that’s a Lando that doesn’t exist. If that Lando did exist I think the situation at McLaren would be very different.

[percervall]

since we talked about it, I would love to know which f1 drivers you think would fit the 1989 vault tracks and why? 💕✨

I love this question so much. You know me and my love for lists

A read more, because boy do I have Thoughts™

"Slut!"

This song reminds me of Lewis, there's more reasons as to why but specifically this line

In a world of boys, he's a gentleman

There's an undercurrent of the male character in the song being wealthy, being into fashion

But if I’m all dressed up They might as well be lookin' at us And if they call me a slut You know it might be worth it for once

And then there's the play on words with "And if I'm gonna be drunk / Might as well be drunk in love". Him having a 0% tequila brand just somehow fits this narrative

Say Don't Go

This just fits Daniel:

I've known it from the very start We’re a shot in the darkest dark Oh no, oh no, I'm unarmed The waiting is a sadness Fading into madness Oh no, oh no, it won't stop

There's something about him in that last season at McLaren that fits the tone of this song. I just instantly have this visual of him trying but failing to offer her what she needs from him because he has nothing left to give; McLaren throwing him to the lions every single race weekend has left him a shadow of his former self. Yeah, this one hurt

Now That We Don't Talk

Oh, this song has Lando written all over it.

You went to a party I heard from everybody You part the crowd like the Red Sea Don't even get me started Did you get anxious though On the way home? I guess I'll never, ever know Now that we don't talk

Lando, with his love for DJ'ing, who gets so in his own head about how things are going, who constantly blames himself and doubts his achievements whenever a race doesn't go according to plan, but then also walks through the paddock with some truly bde. Yeah, this is so him

Suburban Legends

Now, when I first read the lyrics my immediate thought was Daniel:

We were born to be national treasures When you told me we'd get back together And you kissed me in a way that's gonna screw me up forever

There's something cheeky about it, something smug. Which then also lead to, and this was your thinking Ives, Seb. Sebastian is Formula 1's national treasure and that man is such a tease. So the former RedBull teammates can share this one

Is It Over Now?

Oh, I love this song. There's some truly clever song writing in this. Anyway. I digress.

This song? This is Charles, it fits him so well

Let's fast forward to three hundred takeout coffees later I see your profile and your smile on unsuspecting waiters You dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor You search in every maiden's bed for somethin' greater, baby

Charles has this disarming aura, he is so charmingly beautiful, and I like to think of him as being somewhat of a romantic -or at least romanticising the idea of love. However, that man has a type and that is "my gf's bff": If she's got blue eyes, I will surmise that you'll probably date her / Your new girl is my clone

Bonus: Bad Blood (ft Kendrick Lamar)

You can pry this out of my cold, dead hands but this is the song that perfectly describes the relationship between every no2 driver and RB/Horner, but more specifically Mark Webber and RB/Sebastian Vettel:

'Cause, baby, now we got bad blood You know it used to be mad love So take a look what you've done 'Cause, baby, now we got bad blood, hey Now we got problems And I don't think we can solve them You made a really deep cut And, baby, now we got bad blood, hey

Thank you for coming to my TEDTalk asajs 😂

[mwebber]

Hope you don’t mind any ‘On The Bound’ lore questions but how do you think Mark would react to all the excessive bodyshaming Seb went through in the Ferrari era?

don't mind at all! i don't know how much more of it will get posted, if ever, so i'm happy to wordvomit on them anyday :)

rough timeline is that seb gets knocked up towards the end of the 2013 season and has the 2014 shitshow delivered in a completely different way due to an awful pregnancy. it's vague, i haven't rlly workshopped it or anything, so let's say that somehow, magically, ferrari find it in themselves to knock on her door and ask her to drive for 2015. and somehow, magically, seb says yes.

the thing is like. by the time the bodyshaming comes around, seb's already been crucified a million times over for how she looks, especially when she was carrying and gained weight. so it's not necessarily new comments that have her feeling like shit; it's the fact that they're coming out of the mouths of people she's trusted for years.

in 2019, she walks out of maranello feeling--confused, more than anything. because the conversation she overheard didn't sound mean-spirited. it was just a voice floating over from down the hallway, lighthearted as it remarked how she was a little fat before sweeping onto something else. like her body shape was the weather, sunny one day and cloudy the next.

she doesn't tell mark, not at first, even when the comments get nastier about her hair, and how it's not as voluminous or thick as it was when she was in her twenties. they're all arguably objectively correct observations, anyway. her body hasn't been the same since she gave birth, even if she's still fit--her lower stomach is a little flabbier, and her tits are a little droopier, and her ass makes finding a good pair of jeans just that much harder.

mark adores her still, though. he worships her and fucks her just as hard as he did when she was a lanky thing, and his opinion is the only other one she really puts stock in when it comes to how she looks. (the first, of course, being her own opinion.) it's easy to forget what anybody else is saying when he can't keep his hands off her, when he treats her like the sexiest woman in the world.

but then the nicknames start, and it's worse than the passing comments that are largely hidden from her. again, they're not necessarily mean. they might be read as affectionate, from a certain point of view. even so, seb can't help looking at her body in her white fireproofs and thinking that white doesn't do her curves any favours.

she doesn't even notice how bad things have gotten until it's 2020, desperately trying to find another team to take her on, and she's acutely aware of the way her thighs chafe under her ferrari-branded skirt. she doesn't think they chafed so much before, or at least she didn't notice it, but they feel rubbed raw now and distinctly, unattractively bulky in the short skirt. britta never seems to suffer from the problem--then again, britta's thighs never seem to touch, an idea that glides through seb's mind calmly before landing in some dark abyss at the edge of her consciousness.

it's mark who's the most concerned and can see everything for what it truly is. mark, who's been running dogged behind the scenes trying to keep the kids occupied while they struggle against the tide of the pandemic, just so seb doesn't need to worry about them in addition to everything else. mark, who's noticed the way seb doesn't linger on her appearance in the mirror for longer than a brief glance when she used to be so vain. mark, who's done all he can in his limited spare time to tell seb in his words and actions that she's the love of his life. she always laughs him off, but lately, she hasn't even been laughing--and she's so tired, like the entire world has fallen onto her shoulders. only the kids seem to ever coax a smile out of her.

when she finally admits that she might have overheard some people saying things, mark looks just about ready to set the entire country of italy on fire. he asks for specifics, but she can't give any. he asks for names, times, places, and she can only give a rough idea, because she's not--counting every instance she's felt a little bad about how she looks. she has thicker skin than that.

mark's rage almost makes things worse. while it's nice that he feels defensive on her behalf, she just wishes he'd stop pressuring her. she's facing enough stress from every other aspect of her life, and she doesn't need him chasing after ghosts that don't matter in the grand scheme of things. he gives up, because he can't stand to hurt her, but it doesn't stop the dark shame that seems to emanate from his wife like milk gone sour, and it doesn't solve anything except the immediate issue of seb wiping tears and snot furiously from her face.

aston martin is supposed to be a fresh start. it is, for the most part: new team, new factory, new friendships to forge, and new goals to chase after. they fumble almost immediately in their eagerness to show her off when she goes for her first seat fitting, however, and mark's dread only grows. she'd gone in trusting that they wouldn't take or release photos. they release the most unflattering photo a camera could possibly capture instead, and britta messages them almost immediately to turn their devices off.

seb doesn't falter until bahrain 2021. while the world erupts into a frenzy about track limits, she sits quietly in her new driver's room with the heels of her palms pressed against her eyelids, tucked securely against mark's side and feeling old. she doesn't know when she lost her ability to drive. she doesn't think she did--the machinery still feels like home to her, but she doesn't think she can keep blaming the car. it can't possibly always be the car.

it's like mark's deepest fears about the bodyshaming become true, because it's spread like a fungus and sown doubt into seb's mind about her capability and worth. that's the pitfall of shame, isn't it? that it goes from being a spot of embarrassment to everything you are and have ever been.

he doesn't save her--only she can do that, given time--but he holds her tighter, and whispers every sweet encouragement he can think of until she stops hiding behind her palms, at least. if he can't be her lifeline, then he'll be her anchor, and he'll hold on until there's nothing more of them but dust floating in the wind.

[galaxysharks]

Right so you've given us the bad aftermath of HSM4.

I would like to know if you have any HC for after the Docu series came out?? 🤔

CONVENIENT SEGUE INTO WHUMPTOBER!

THANKS OLLI!

Prompt: Alt. Prompt 1 - Bloody Knuckles

As much as they would all like to ditch and go home, Corbin kindly reminded them that this bit of promotion was in the contract specifically, and they did have to sit through it.

So with that announcement, back to the seats they went. Ash and Carlos were flustered, Biggie had been working, and Seb was out of cell range. Kourtney seemed....ok? EJ just looked tired and both siblings were pointedly looking at the ceiling.

Ricky and Gina seemed just fine though, so whatever?

And it's........ mostly ok?

I mean super overdramatized, and so little is actually focused on the production, but it's about what you would expect from an early 2000s teen reality show, so at least it's on brand.

This showing was for 'the first four episodes'.

Channing, and way more hidden cameras than they were informed of, made sure to display everyone's greatest hits:

"She probably has some Super Cool camp traditions..."

"Guys! Am I Susan Fine?"

"cause I'm pretty sure the sibling that's being punished is me!"

"it's because of the lust"

"Well in My experience, Val likes to read letters that aren't for her!"

So besides having to relive the worst moments of the summer, they were fine.

As the fourth episode wrapped up and the wildcats were getting ready to leave, the credits paused and the trailer for the second half of the series began to play.

And again, misleading and annoying, but mostly fine....

Until.....

The camera shifted focus, showing Maddox and Emmy, sitting just outside of the Honeycomb, Emmy looks exhausted, and Maddie is speaking softly with her.

Suddenly the camera shifts and now Maddox is alone, standing in the woods. She is pacing, back and forth, arms picking at and pulling her arms, silent tears rolling down her face.

She paces and paces, before rapidly spinning and throwing her fist into one of the trees. It's barks splits and flakes off, taking the skin of her knuckles with it, and sending a shard of bone out of her hand.

The Maddie on screen walks off, bloody fist still clutched and clearly still agitated, as the images change to a clip of a frightened Jet, who had spied one of the dangerous snakes and had gone to get his sister.

The clip was layered by a sound bite from Jet talking to Ricky in the bunks, "yeah, my dad's.....not great, he gets mad a lot and trust me, it's better to just not be home...."

The Wildcats are concerned, the trailer made it look like Jet was running from Maddox, not to her, and now she looks incredibly violent.....

The siblings were frozen staring at the screen, Jet in disbelief, and Maddie in abstract fear as she saw how much she looked like their father when angry....

The viewing was silent.

The audience were now all looking at Maddox like she was some kind of time bomb, some even pulling their kids behind them, as though the temper from the trailer would possess her in the moment and set her off.

Just as the tension had slowly started to clear, Maddox's phone rang......'Dad'.

Oh Fuck.

[aquilamage]

had a small random burst of aa inspiration and whipped up an excerpt of the untitled aai2 au. context: I didn’t want Kay Seb and Badd in the same place until Forgotten but couldn’t find any good reason for Badd not to be at the Zodiac Gallery. So I took Kay and Sebastian out of Inherited. Kay goes digging for info on what happened to Sebastian (or at least tries to). Except then she runs into him and they continue to butt heads. These bits are before and after that scene

.

To avoid Badd having any last-minute suspicions about her outing, Kay strategically waited in her room until after he left (accidentally slept in until her 10:00 alarm). She was still yawning as she made her way to the door to put on her shoes. When she picked up the second one, she noticed a piece of paper stuck in it.

Snacks in fridge.

Dropping the shoe, she ran over to check. Sure enough, on the middle shelf was a small lunchbox. Its contents: cheese sticks and pepperoni, apple slices in water with side compartments of peanut butter and cinnamon sugar, some homemade chocolate chip granola bars, and a little bag of pretzels.

She stared at it. Well, now she felt a little bad about lying. Not bad enough to change her mind. She needed to uncover the truth here, with or without his approval.

.

She made her way out of the Prosecutor’s Offices with a bit less caution than when she’d come in. (Almost no one who might even recognize her was left, anyway.) Jumping all the stairs from the outside doors to the sidewalk, she cut across the grass in the direction of the nearest bus stop.

Dropping her weight against the plastic back wall of the bus shelter, she huffed out a sigh. Well, that had been stupid. Not only had she gotten to do zero digging, but Sebastian had turned out to be just as insufferably...Like That...when he was alone as any other time. After that disaster, he’d lost all rights to her even dropping hints about who she was. (If she hadn’t seen him stumble over so many other seemingly obvious hints, she would’ve thought he had to be doing it on purpose.) Ugh. If she didn’t see him for another month, it would be too soon.

Someone had walked into the bus stop moments ago and she’d ignored them, busy glaring at a plastic bottle on the ground and bouncing on her feet as she ruminated. But then the hair on the back of her neck prickled too much to ignore the impulse to look.

It was Sebastian. Standing at the far diagonal of the shelter, staring, baton threatening to snap out of his grip. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” she retorted. Based on everything else, she thought he would’ve gotten his own brand new car the moment he was old enough to drive.

His expression scrunched. “I asked you first!”

She put her hands on her hips. “I asked you second.”

For a moment, he continued to watch her with what was probably meant to be a glare but was actually a squint and a wobbly pout. Then, with a huff, he spun around to stomp off.

Right as it began to absolutely pour.

He shrieked and tripped over himself running backward into the shelter.

Kay sighed to herself. Pulling out her phone, she slid along the wall until she got to the point furthest from the bench. After a minute of Sebastian not moving she said, still not looking up, “You can sit. I don’t want to.”

It took another long moment, but finally he went and sat. Still not talking, which she was thankful for.

Opening her internet browser, she flicked through the hundred plus tabs she had open to locate that one article on knot tying she’d been meaning to read. Nah, not that one. Or that one. Ooh, a parkour technique video.

She’d just gotten through the initial explanation segment when she heard a low stomach growl. She looked down at her own with a frown before almost immediately remembering Sebastian. Hm. Well that was his problem. She started up the video again.

It happened again. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but be a little impressed. Getting through her earbuds and the incessant drum of rain.

(She did still have most of her snacks in her bag, her brain reminded her.)

Her finger hovered over the play button.

(...And Seb always really liked the granola bars every time she’d brought them to school.)

With a sigh, Kay yanked out the container in the same motion as she crossed the couple steps over to hold it out in offering.

He flinched once as she approached, and then a smaller one when she dropped it in his lap.

“You, uh, sounded hungry.” She rocked on her heels.

“Oh.” He lifted the lid cautiously. “Thanks?”

“Yeah sure,” she said quickly, scooting back to her corner. “Just give me the container back.”

She put her earbuds back in, but didn’t start the video up. Not yet. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him pick one up. It was silly, to think that just tasting the snack would be enough to make him recognize her, after everything else. That was something out of a story.

...But it also wasn’t impossible.

If that was even what she wanted anymore, she thought again, stomach turning.

He paused, frowning slightly, after his first bite, but otherwise didn’t visibly react. (Also still not taking his gloves off, despite the fact that he was definitely gonna get chocolate on them. So he really did wear those all the time. Maybe it was a texture thing? He’d had a bunch of texture things in school.

So she went back to her video.

Nearly at the end, absorbed in calculating how long she might take to learn it (and how spectacularly she could injure herself if she messed up), Kay startled when he interjected, too loud, “Hey?”

From his expression as she turned, he hadn’t expected the volume either. “Um, what time is it?”

“2:13.”

He nodded, biting his lip. Hands gripping the bench, he rocked slightly, now staring out into the rain.

“...Is your bus late?”

He tensed, and then tears started to collect at the corners of his eyes. “Yeah,” he squeaked.

With an internal sigh, she began pulling up the bus system tracker. “What number is it?”

“Thirty-four.”

Kay froze. That’s my route. Not the one she was currently waiting for: the one that went right by her childhood home. It was the kind of thing she would have laughed and commented about, if she was talking to a friend. Or a friendly acquaintance. Or a stranger. “Yeah, it says that one showed up like, super early. And the next one’s at 2:40.”

He nodded, still in the same pose.

When he didn’t give any other response, she rolled her eyes and looked back at her phone. She swapped over to one of her game apps, but just as it loaded she realized. Of course that was Sebastian's bus route; she could have guessed before she even asked him. He was probably still living in the same house, the one he'd grown up in – safe, familiar, with his parents the whole time-

Her throat burned like acid. She had so much energy: to scream, to stomp, to run out into the rain all the way back to the apartment. Instead, she threw herself to the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees. Sebastian moved out of the corner of her eye, but she ignored him. He didn't say or do anything else. Good. If she had to talk with him right now she'd explode.

She stayed like that until her bus came, then ran for the door. Sebastian yelled something after her, but she ignored him, sitting on the far side of the aisle and refusing to think about any of the day all the way back home.

[transsexualhamlet]

16 but I want an essay on it 17 for the hannibal fic ur working on specifically and 27

hellooooo seb seb seb :)

ask game - writing wrapped

16. Who was your favorite character to write?

I think for this year it has to be between Nikolai and Party Poison? Somehow they are both the same brand and fucking opposite characters. I think it mostly comes down to their environment because at their core they have that same balance of hyperactivity, immaturity, and thrill seeking violence seeking bullshit that hides the underbelly of "this 20 something is already so fucking disillusioned with life that they are on the verge of a break with reality". You know. I think if they ever met each other they would give each other the autistic stare, shake hands, and mutually agree to kill each other in the most violent way possible. But at the same time they're so fucking different??? In no world would Nikolai manage to bond positively with a child im sorry it just. I don't think it could happen I think he would want it to happen but he would end up throwing it out the window. Poison didn't Mean to ofc but it just sorta happened. And Poison has an arc where he gets Better as much as it still ends badly and the whole thing is supposed to be at least a little heartwarming and well. Nikolai just gets worse lol

And I'm aware that my entire characterization of Party Poison is pretty much all made up past the bare bones of what danger days gives you and yknow like. Two panels in killjoys. And I guess whatever fanon I can assemble without reading fics and ruining the joy of making shit up myself. But they're literally such a fucking specimen for fucking real I am having so much fun dissecting that thang (Party Poison)

17. What songs did you listen to while writing?

For the Hannibal fic specifically?? Oh that's interesting well you see??? I can't listen to music with words while I'm writing because then I'll just end up writing the lyrics, getting distracted, never getting anything done etc. I listen to weird ass shit with no words. But for the Hannibal fic I've been listening to the song Ares on the Safe In The Steep Cliffs album by Emancipator on fucking repeat it's sooo good and it has kind of the same vibe as the piece as in. A silent calm abandoned place built in the ancient fighting grounds of gods where snow covers ruins and giant columns crumble under their own weight. You know. Normal lofi music.

27. What books, movies, etc helped instruct your storytelling this year?

I mean I generally write fanfic so I mean. The source material is obviously the inspiration for it. But I do have some original stuff and lemme tell you American Psycho really inspired one of my stories for school (does not elaborate in the slightest)

I think the book Leech by Hiron Ennes has inspired me in General. It's literally so fucking good I cannot stand it I ate that thing up like autism favorite food it's so fucking scrumptious (it's 80 percent gothic horror and medical gore 20 percent the most mindbreakingly well built sci fi lore that barely gets elaborated on) But it's. Seriously I cannot recommend it more it's not even about queer people it's about Parasites and Diseases but you can tell it's written by a queer person in the best way I want to eat Hiron's brain

[spilltheteawithme]

I've noticed she grips the neck of the person she stands next to like she's pulling them towards her./ the hand on the shoulder and this grip is often for her, she do it in almost every grupe photo, if you saw some of her grupe photos from malta festival its the same pose and the same thing. A lot of people in body leanguage read this as a sign of friendship, to create a bond and shows the close relationship, because you get into someones else personal space. She probably grip people to push the friendship type of relation, plus if she don't interact just a little bit witg anyone she almost look like she is paste on this photo realy: same face, same smile and same pose, with this move at least she try to act like she have interaction with the grupe because nothing else shows it. And depends how you grip other person (and aw a lot of time look like a force pull, in contrast to seb who always have open hand or close in fist- that can be sign if being uncomfy) it can also show ownership or dominance, so depends how you stand. But aw look more like she whant to show the connection with people so she force this one pose, again really commercial type of pose(if you think of this puctures you see in big stores, not clothes brands, and grup of friends there is like 90% chance they will stand similar, this is just basic stand for bff photos)

Friend pose, exactly as I've been saying nothing more and it's the same with everyone as long as they are the main focus of the event/party, shes glued to them with an arm over their shoulder 😂

[circus4apsycho8]

playing hero. | platonic sebastian x reader

A/N: Fair warning - this was typed on my phone at like 3 in the morning lol

...

“What the hell did I tell you about playing hero?”

You grunt as Sebastian pushes you gently down into a chair, setting down his bag beside him. He frowns, eyeing the large gash on your arm as he begins rummaging around in the pack.

Soon enough, he pulls out a medical kit - something that had proven itself to be a rare find.

“I’m okay, Seb, really,” you attempt to assure in vain. The detective scowls as he fishes out what appear to be antiseptic wipes. He tears the package open with his teeth before spitting out the unneeded material. He shakes his head and sighs while pulling out the wipe.

”I know we were just going against two of them, but what would’ve happened if that had been a horde? If you had been bitten instead of cut? If you-“

“I get it,” you snap, sighing. “But your ass would’ve been in a lot more trouble if-ow, fuck!” You go to clutch the base of your upper arm as Sebastian begins cleaning the wound.

“It’s just the alcohol,” he replies, rubbing the gash thoroughly.

“No shit!”

“Language,” he scolds, giving you his signature Sebastian Stink Eye.

“You cuss all the time, though!”

“I’m an adult.”

“Hey, I’m eighteen! That’s legally an adult!”

“Eighteen going on twelve.”

“Oh, whatever,” you reply, rolling your eyes. Sebastian finishes up wiping down your wound before he tosses the wipes to the side. He pulls out a tube of...something. You can’t quite read the label.

“Huh, antiseptic cream. Says it’s the lead brand for preventing infections. Perfect.” He unscrews the cap before squirting some of the cream onto a pad of gauze resting on his leg. Then, he presses the pad against the gash before rolling the wrap around your arm.

Your stare falls onto the mess of dried and fresh blood staining your skin - some of it not belonging to you. You are once again reminded of your situation as the weight of it all crashes down once more.

How could you possibly survive this?

“Why the heavy gauze?”

You blink, snapped out of your thoughts. “Huh?”

“No?” he questions, faking a cringe. “Ah, dammit, that one didn’t work too well.”

“What?”

“You know - gaze and gauze. Thought I could make a joke, but they sound too differently to be used punwise.”

A hint of a smile rests on your lips as you shake your head. “Ha, that was bad.”

“But, you are smiling, so I’ll take it as a win.” He chuckles after saying that, putting the finishing touches on your bandaged arm.

“Damn,” you reply, chuckling. “I am and I hate it.”

“But, uh, why the long look?” he asks, frowning.

“I don’t know,” you say, smile fading as you avert your gaze. “Can... Is it really possible for us to get out of here?”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation, his stare hardening in resolve. “We will.

If it isn’t possible, then we’ll make it possible.”

“But...Ruvik is so powerful now,” you say quietly, looking away. “He’s going to be a difficult enemy to defeat.”

“Well, nothing about any of this has been easy, and I doubt it’ll get easier from here on out. What Ruvik doesn’t understand is that life is just like that, too - it doesn’t get easier. You’ve got to fight for a happy ending. You, me, Joseph, Kidman - we’re not gonna lose to Ruvik. You’ll see. You’re stronger than you believe.”

You chuckle, a small smile appearing on your lips as a tear slips down your cheek. You can only nod in response, fearing that your voice will crack if your speak.

“Keep your chin up, kiddo. We’ve got work to do, but it’ll pay off in the end.”

Part of you believes Sebastian. Or, at least, that part of you wants to believe him.

The detective sighs, closing the medical kit and putting it back in the bag before pushing it to the ground. He sits beside you and places his hand on your shoulder.

“We finally got you out of that damned mental hospital,” he starts, “but what do you want to do after all this is over?”

You take a moment to think about your answer, considering each scenario as they surface one at a time.

Then, it hits you.

“I want to play hero,” you answer, grinning.

“What now?”

“I want to be like you,” you clarify, straightening your posture.

“You want to become a detective?”

You nod, swiping at your cheeks a few times in order to get rid of the lingering tears. “Yeah. You play hero all the time as a detective. Now I want to do it too.”

He chuckles, patting your back a few times before removing his hand. “Well, your training starts now.”

A big grin spreads across your face against your will. “Really?”

He smiles, nodding a bit. “Yep. And, when the time comes, I’ll put in a good word for you. I bet Joseph will too.”

You giggle, immediately going to hug the detective. “Thank you. I really appreciate it, Sebastian.”

He nods, returning the hug. “No problem, kid.”

You pull away, suddenly feeling like time is wasting away. You stand up, taking a moment to stretch. Sebastian stands beside you and tosses you your bag.

“Ready to play hero?” he questions.

You smirk, falling in stride beside him.

[brawn-gp]

You know what, y'all so right besties: Mick is a mystery. I never know what to expect from him, so far I know he seems to be a friendly, well educated and smart young man that seems to be relatable sometimes. This might be controversial BUT: on the other hand, he's a Schumacher, he's a white privileged man and I refuse to put him on a pedestal because of that or baby him for that. There is no way he is sooo educated that he understand the struggles that comes with less privileges and at the beginning of last season, when he answered that question regarding to lewis' activism it showed. I know a lot of people were very quick to defend him but not me tho, I refuse to put a man on a pedestal and ignore when he says something ignorant <3. (especially because their activism would help a person like me lol) So I thought well damn, he probably is someone that is more educated than some other young drivers (Lewis himself said that Mick asked him to educate him, we stan) but I still didn't think he will use his voice to speak up about issues, that might cause a criticism, because he might be to worried about his own brand. But then BOOM this bitch came and said queer rights and even made a post about it and I was like????? Ok ally king we stan, now this is what I expect in 2021/2022 from people with a platform. What I am trying to say (lol sorry for that mess) is that I never know what to expect, but I would rather see him to speak up more and show his personality more even if this means that at some point he will probably say or do something that I highly disagree with, or even find problematic, (because everyone makes mistakes (everyone has those days)) than seeing him being so controlled and professional all the time. I don't wanna jinx it but I have a feeling that he might suprise us with some of his opinions or personal traits (in a good way tho) Anyways, we stan Mick Schumacher, the mystery, the great ally, the dog dad and part time photographer, the man that has specific thoughts about a zombie apocalypse (whatever this means..., 🤔)

hii also sorry for taking so long replying to this but just know that i loved this ask so much because my brain works exactly like this dkfjhg so thank you this was very very interesting :-)

again, to not clog the tag i'll add a read more:

there's nothing much i can add to this because i went through this exact same train of thought last year, so yes. yes to all of this.

i do wanna remark the: "he's a Schumacher, he's a white privileged man and I refuse to put him on a pedestal because of that or baby him for that". amen. to. that. i'm sorry but i refuse to put any celebrity in a pedestal because as much as we think we know them, we know like 50% of their real life and opinions, SPECIALLY when they are privileged cis white men.

however, mick seems to be doing alright? at least he's on a good path methinks.

i still haven't gotten over the pride t-shirt post captioned ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜... like as a queer person those are the small gestures that makes you hopeful for a better future. and damn, what an impactful post that was. like we have lewis and seb promoting lgbtq+ rights and i'm so thankful to have them both in the grid. they are the two most successful drivers on the grid and using their influence for good. but also i think it was very brave of him posting something like that -in his rookie year in a shitty car-, however "minimal effort" it might've been for some. I wish that was the norm, and that all drivers made efforts like that one, but in a world as homophobic as this one, it's still considered a "political move" (yikes). [just look at the comments of that ig post, its absolutely disgusting... like legit the first comment is "your father would not be proud" what the actual fuck is wrong with people, it makes me sick]

recently he was seen wearing a pro-black lives beanie in black history month, that again, it might've seemed like a small gesture for some, but i do think it sets a precedent. a precedent that he listens, he's willing to learn and act on it.

again, this is just my impression and what it looks like on the outside. will i absolutely praise him and go around saying "my white boy is better than yours, stan him instead"? no. abso-fucking-lutely no. but its nice to see him speak up rather than stay silent, and for that i command him

also the man that has specific thoughts about a zombie apocalypse PLS SDKFHJDG yeah.... plus the "a knife, a bomb, a serial killer" bit always gets me as well... what a weird brain hehe

[rumblelibrary]

I'm not sure if you have already done something like this before, and if you did, please let me know, I'd love to read it, BUT I was wondering if you could do a little thing, maybe with Sebastian Zöllner, where he is like totally behind on every fucking deadline, work is just piling up, he got into stress with his ex, the dishes are not done, he should go take out the trash, you know, everything is just piling up and he just cracks under the pressure, severely doubting his worth as a person. And his friend, the reader, gotta try their best to build him up again, telling him all the things they love about him, and it slowly turns into a love confession without them noticing.

Is this too elaborate, does that make sense for Seb? Idk. To me it does? Like he's always very...Seb around other people, but deep down I feel like he's always under this pressure to live up to his own and others expectations, wanting to be big and famous and perfect in a way.

I'm so sorry, brain go brrr.

Never Enough [Sebastian Zöllner x Reader]

Word Count: 4k Warnings: bad habits (heavy smoking and drinking), self deprecation, depression and some fluff in the end. A/N: I loved this prompt, I love to write Sebastian so thanks to you once more for giving me this opportunity

He should have probably realised something was wrong when the ashtray was vomiting cigarettes out from its dooming position beside the laptop.

He nervously used the left part of the one he just ended to scavenge some space and just pressed it along the others.

Or maybe when after another sip of the same cold coffee mixed with cheap gin he felt the walls of his stomach revolting and stirring against him, threatening a much bigger damage.

Or, again, when he felt like calling back Elke because he was so alone and he was hungry and tired, and she might hate him but he could pull some puppy eyes and maybe it would work. It usually did.

The truth was that he shouldn’t have taken up so many jobs, but the bank account was crying and he needed them, he needed the money.

But again: writing about the umpteenth girl- artist performing naked on a famous historic location?

Or do we have to talk about the way somebody splashed some colour here and there  on a canvas saying it is the catharsis of his young mind against the social construct?

Please, may God spare him from the man calling himself landscape artist because he takes pictures of naked girls on a field.

Charged up with this amount of nothingness, he could just write and delete, write and delete, words count going quickly up to 400 only to go back at 0 in a snap of his fingers over the buttons, because he couldn’t just tear them down. He had to give them some hope, a glimpse of potential he couldn’t see and he wasn’t even aware it existed. Each of them disgusted him, but he was specifically asked to be entertaining and not a killer with his words.

So he kept swiping up videos and photos of these artists, trying to find one thing, one holy grail to get attached to and finally write one good optimistic line in the middle of the words he had to pull up to keep a moderate tone.

He rubbed his temple running over his hairline, which by the way was perfectly fine, before his hand reached down and he touched his t-shirt pulling on the neckline to gather some air, he was wearing his pyjama still, white stained shirt on blue tartan pants. He raised up the shirt and bowed his head down giving in a long inhale from the inside and just cringed to himself.

He looked around as he couldn’t stand up, if he did then he will get only more distracted and these articles needed to be ready for tomorrow.

He noticed the spray against the mosquitos on the floor, those little bastards always hiding under his desk to bite his ankles, he picked it up and sprayed it over himself like it was perfume hoping to ignore the need of a shower for few more hours.

His eyes scanned the small studio flat he was living now: the dishes sticking out of the sink, the noisy fridge buzzing. The one table that was also his work desk filled with used mugs, stained plates covered in cigarettes and leftovers, empty packages of his favourite brand discarded everywhere: from the bathroom up to the couch and to the small bed he owned. Damn, if he run out of cigarette it will be hard to ignore how he also run out of food.

The space was dark and gloomy, some of his stuff still packed up, the fake pop art panting of him and Elke staring at him reminding him of his other loss.

He didn’t touch the bed in days, he just slept on the seat or on the couch.

His attention was attracted by his phone buzzing.

He sat up straight as it was her, it was Elke.

Did she sense his discomfort? 

“Elke” he picked up the call in a second.

“Wow, a quick answer, did you have your phone already in your hand or it happens just so late at night?”

Her sarcasm did’t go past him, but he just thought how long it was since he heard a human voice and not the recording of some idiot calling himself artist.

“No, I was thinking of you”

“Yes, sure, look I have sent you an email with the bills of the time you were here, the ones you have left to pay and it is only fair that you pay at least half of them”

“Sure” he just said it because he wanted to go past the point of money, he wanted her back. Maybe he could crush at her place, feel her hands through his hair, shower, sleep some good sleep and the articles will come around in few types “Elke, I was thinking we might…”

“I just called you for the bills”

“I know, but maybe we could have” his eyes darted at the top right of his laptop screen to see the time “a drink together?”

She huffed a laughter as he frowned lightly “I know you Seb, if it is money or sex what you’re looking for that door is closed and it has been for a long time”

“I know” he murmured as he let out a breathy sigh, a dooming sense of loneliness creeping over him like a giant spider ready to wrap him up and eat him “I just hoped…”

“Don’t hope Sebastian, you’re already an hopeless cause”

She hung up on him and he was left there, he kept that same pose with his phone against his ear. His eyes trailing once again over the empty page of his document on the screen, on the chaos surrounding him.

He nibbled on his bottom lip before running his tongue over the pained area.

He pushed the phone back down on the table with a tremble of his jaw and a shaky hand.

She was right.

What he did of his life anyway? He lost most of his occasions in life, he was now in his thirties and he concluded nothing of what he hoped to be, he failed in all the departments both as an artist and as a critic.

A jack of all trades is a master of none, and maybe only the first type of the famous quote could be applied to him.

He couldn’t even take the trash out or he couldn’t remember the last time he ate something that was vaguely resembling of fruits or vegetables. It is all good when you imagine yourself as a bohemian rooting against the world, when you convince yourself that’s only the proof you needed to know you are fighting well against a system of art that privileges banality and marketing over real artistic value and that, one day, all your struggles will be worth it.

Even Picasso was poor for a long time in Paris.

Damn, maybe to be in a situation like this in Paris would sound more romantic.

But the truth was: he never imagined to have to do it alone, that life would feel so overwhelming, that there wouldn’t be anything but extreme struggle, anger, loneliness and a terrible diet.

For a moment he wished to be a baby again, to be the bright boy he was and let mommy take care of his needs and his dirty shirt and empty stomach. He wished that maybe somebody noticed him before, that somebody saw his talent and helped him to pull it out instead of leaving him to do it on his own only to come late to every step.

And now it is too late, he is lost in the sea of terrible paid jobs and anguishing relationships, let’s not forget maybe he indeed had a receding hairline and he was doomed to get bold .

He squeezed his eyes as a soft sob took over his lip, hand running over his forehead as he pulled on his hair justifying his tears with some physical pain. He shook his head as he tried to gain back some composure, hand flung over to pick up his coffee mug and giving in a long gulp of the coffee, the same one he swore before to not touch again, only to almost choke on it, couching it out only to pick up the bottom hem of his shirt to clean his laptop screen.

He fucking hated to write on a computer, the old typewriters inspired him but that damn ink was too expensive now for his sore pockets.

He smirked to himself as he kept doing it, finding good excuses to call himself off any responsibility. But maybe Elke was right, well she surely was, she had two degrees, maybe he was really a lot cause. He frowned as he wiped slowly the screen with his already stained shirt, the wetness sticking then against his skin as soon as he let it go giving him another shiver.

He didn’t have even the strength to cry, he could only accept it was over.

The curse that he shouted out loud when he heard knocking at the door, smashing him out of his thought spiral, generated an immediate anger reaction from him.

“Fuck, shit, if it is the fucking neighbour, I swear I will kill her cat or that rat she has as cat, fucking hell”

He grumbled as he stood up moving across the table not caring about his state, he only wanted to crawl back into a ball and maybe nuzzle a bit somewhere.

When his death glare appeared after the door opened in a powerful swing his eyebrows lifted immediately finding you on the other side.

He blinked, one of those sleepy blinks where somebody closes his eyes and then opens them really wide to make sure it is not made up in their brain, that one.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You should wash your mouth with holy water Sebastian” you said shaking your head raising your arms to show him some paper bags “I am bringing food and body shower”

He shook his head “Are you calling me stinky?”

“I am” You quickly replied moving past him into his place ignoring his groan.

He stood by the door slowly closing it, he was sure that old bitch was looking through her peephole, only then he stared at you try to make your way into the filthy kitchen. He was really embarrassed about his antics, but surely this time he exceeded some record.

“I am speechless Seb, I helped you with the moving and this place seems to have taken over you” you said as you knew he was in some rut when he kept such a long phone silence.

He was usually always texting, sending memes or one sentence texts.

You cared about him, deeply, you knew he was full of flaws and little quirks, but that’s what made him special. Nevertheless, you were worried about the state of the place, how it showed the way he let himself get dragged through the days. So he observed you, better to say, your back, the way you moved around opening the window to let fresh air inside, turning on a lamp to make some light that wasn’t just the blue one of the screen. Pulling out commodities and food from your magic bags like some sort of Mary Poppins of struggling writers. How you poured soap in the dirty load of dishes and pans, the way you marched securely to his desk to pick up that filthy mug and you frowned just sniffing at it.

“Is that poison?”

“Rat poison” he corrected you.

You shook your head as you cleaned a glass and filled it with water and among the groceries you pulled out a banana.

“Have this now, it will help” you said and he took the glass with one hand and the banana with the other like his brain was shut down.

He stared at you as you leaned your head slightly on side, he went through bad times after the break up but you had never seen him in such a helpless state.

He was chaotic but he always loved to keep up his appearance, to give that handsome and damned kind of vibe.

“Sebastian” you called him as his eyes spaced out and now where back on you “Are you alright?”

He observed you, he stared at your face like he was trying to recognise you, truth it was he kept pushing himself to say yes, say yes, say it is all good, make a joke, a remark, keep it up. You don’t need his burden, you don’t need to hate him like Elke and others do.

Just say yes.

“No” he said as his lips trembled and you watched his ironic mask fall right in front of you as he looked away hiding his tears, real tears, not the ones he can play out whenever he needs.

Just as quickly as you gave him the banana and the water you took them off his hands afraid he might hurt himself by dropping the glass in particular.

"Seb" you called his attention as he sobbed moving like a bird trying to hide his face against his own shoulder.

You took his now empty hands dragging him toward the couch and kicking off the pile of dirty clothes and discarded books on top of it to make him sit down with you.

"Talk to me"

He didn't, the man that was never out of words, even in the times he should have been, was now silent as a tombstone staring away from you as you gave a gentle squeeze to his hands. It pained you to see him in such a state.

So weak, so helpless like a lost child.

"I can't help you if you don't talk"

Sebastian shook his head still staring at the wall.

"You can't help me"

"Is it about writing? I can proof read you, it will be a moment"

He shook his head again making, hair bouncing from side to side.

"No, it is not important if I write or not"

You frowned at that comment.

"What the hell?" you just blurted out "Seb you're a talented writer, you're passionate, funny, witty, why shouldn't it be important?"

He looked up at you shaking his head "I can't write, I can't put together two sentences"

Your eyes travelled onto his side profile, truth to be told he looked worn out but he was still handsome like only Sebastian Zöllner could be. He had that chaotic charm, even with a wrinkled suit he was fearless, strong, poignant. You couldn't avoid him, he owned every place he stepped in and you could feel his gaze run through your bloodstream.

When he asks a question, he meant it, it was a test run into your bones and you loved every second of it.

His lips tightened as he diverted his gaze finally to you. You knew his relationship with Elke was important, he cared about others even if he didn't show it daily like most people do.

"Is it Elke?"

"No, she was just right"

"About what?"

He gulped, his throat dry as he pulled his bottom lip in his mouth grinding his teeth over it like playing something through that gesture.

"About me"

"Breakups are always shit, don't you even.."

"No Y/N" he interrupted you, he was serious, maybe his voice trembled but he wasn't lying or playing some role "I am really a lost cause, I mean look at his place"

His hand waved around the small flat like a drunk orchestra director.

"It is pure trash, I haven't finished unpacking, I didn't have food until you came, I am unable to look after myself, to look after the people that I care about. I worked so hard to be an artist and then I became a critic and now I am so knee deep into my own shit that I have more debts than entries, more failures than successes, more haters than friends"

He gulped down, the waterline of his eyes dangerously red and he sniffled up as he let out a little weak whisper "I just wish I could disappear"

"No"

It came out of you like a lighting bolt, it surged out of you before you could even elaborate. Like an order. A command.

"Seb, you're now in a rough patch of life, but you have always worked hard and well as a writer"

"I am a writer because I failed as an artist"

"You're a writer because you know of what you're talking about, because you're able to see the difference between marketing and passion, between hard work and laziness, because you respect that profession and it makes you the best critic"

"I just want to destroy them all because I am envious, Elke always said I am fuelled by my own envy”

"I have read pieces of yours only encouraging the rightful and bringing down the real frauds"

He shook his head as he was just fixating on the wrong, on the flaws, on the problems.

You huffed cupping his cheeks to force him to look at your eyes.

"Look at me" you said not admitting replies "you are talented in what you do, you are one of the best in your field and you're not on some big magazine only because they know they will have to put up with your shit: with the fact you always meet the people, you look at art pieces in presence, you touch them, you research the colours, you scrutinise everything to the bone"

He took your hands hating to be held like that but he squeezed them in his owns.

"And yes, you're allergic to ironing clothes and washing dishes is your personal nightmare, and yes, you give out many temper tantrums and have a terribly dark sense of humour, you are a failure at time and money management, you love filthy rich stuff and smoke like your life depends on it"

He stared at you, he listened quietly as you knew him from so long and many people, Elke included, wondered what you gained from helping him or just being around him that much. He often teased his ex about being jealous of you and she always said that it was like being jealous of a mortgage.

"So you agree?"

 "I agree to say you are flawed like all of us, that you are just the perfect balance to your writing, you're what you write. You're passionate, you give out the two hundred percent of what you can give, you are like this, you go all-in in everything you do, there's no compromise, no mid way, no foreseeable change of direction, you speed up into the darkness and don't look back. You are bold, you take risks, you let people hate you because you do not compromise with who is son of who or who is the director of what gallery, you judge people over their real qualities. Because you talk to them in their face, because you don't hide that yes, you want to be great, because you're handsome and charming and smart, nobody can outsmart you in your field, not even that idiot you hate that much"

"Golo Fucking Moser" he murmured

"Golo Fucking Moser" you repeated with a chuckle "you don't have anything to envy to him beside the bruises he probably has on his knees for bending down to anyone"

He chuckled at that comment.

"And also, you're more attractive, that pisses off Seb, it is unfair to the poor man”

He leaned his head on side as you wouldn't normally shower him in compliments, he had enough ego for that, but you had never seen him like this and you wished to never see him again in such a state.

"You find me attractive?"

"Well for sure you're an eye candy" you joked

"I mean it"

You rolled your eyes blushing a bit and huffing a chuckle "I do, alight? It is universal knowledge"

He looked at you as he still held your hands in his, his thumbs making soft shapes over the back of your hand.

"That I am attractive or that you find me attractive?"

You groaned looking away with an embarrassed giggle “okay, okay, I see you're back in yourself, let's eat now"

You moved to stand up but he didn't do the same remaining sat in his spot.

"Tell me"

"I pumped your self esteem enough, now let me go"

He chuckled softly, he never really thought you'd be interested. He usually shows off so many bad traits that he has to tone himself down and really try hard to attract someone. It is all an effort on his part to appear better or at least less quirky.

And then now look at you, appreciating even his shit show.

"Y/N" he murmured giving you a soft squeeze. You kept silent not daring now to meet his gaze. He bowed his head trying to reach for your eyes with his gaze and he looked up at you, a smile that wasn't provocative over his lips.

You pulled back yanking your wrists off his grip to move straight into the kitchen corner.

You begun pulling ut some fresh vegetables and bread, you also got some cheese knowing he loves it, wanting him to have a good dinner.

He followed you almost immediately and soon you found his arms grasping you once more in a hug, his chest pressed against your back, his forehead on your shoulder.

"Seb, you..."

"I know, I stink, just give me a moment" he said and you obliged him gently caressing his arms around you.

You hated to be in the friend zone, but you wouldn't be able to survive to lose him forever or to have him joke about it.

Now he was quiet, tender like a hurt pup.

"Thank you, you know you can count on me too, right? For anything” he said and you chuckled softly “I know, you’re my favourite avenger”

He nodded brushing his crisp beard against your cheek and after few minutes stuck in that hug he dropped a kiss on your neck "love you”

He pulled back giving you a smile as he picked the shower gel you left on the counter bringing it with himself to the bathroom with a soft hum.

You smiled a bit bitterly to yourself as you guessed it was meant in a friendly way, but today it was alright. You could endure it. Also that kiss, he always did it when he was drunk, at parties or in the taxi back home after a viewing. It was his cuddly way to say things without saying them, without rambling, and you appreciated that silent language. 

Maybe now he was drunk over his own feelings.

Just like you.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme  @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @archangelproperty

[mickstart]

You gonna hate me for this(please don’t block my ip address😭😭) but am I the only one who thinks Mick is better suited not only creating his legacy but carrying on his dads name at merc alongside George instead of going to Ferrari? Like I don’t know how to explain it but Mick and merc look like a better fit to me than Mick and Ferrari. And like I know his father wrote history in red and he could do the same but idk man at this point in time it seems like with the mordere politics of Ferrari and just how everything is set up and going, it feels like Carlos and Sainz are the more suitable combo to bring the championship/s back to Italy. And this is not me undermining Mick, god no, but rather things always seem to go awry when a driver has their main ambition of joining the scuderia(throughout history in general). Like I’m thinking Gio, to a lesser extent seb, fernando, Hill(?), Prost etc. Also this is just me not wanting Mick to be described in the light of his father. Anywho enjoy your day

sfdsfd hey I'm not gonna block you or hate you for an opinion don't worry! This is speculation and personal opinion about a career, it's not life or death.

I see where you're coming from, and I've also had this thought myself several times. Mick's not quite god the, uh, Crazy Wild Stupid Feral 'spark' that Ferrari drivers tend to have. At least not yet, I think there's plenty of time for that to develop! And I think his brand of nice pr would fit in better at merc than the political minefield of ferrari. But I do disagree here are my highly articulate points that are just my opinion!

I rambled a lot so feel free to not read but tl;d - I agree with you in theory, but in practice there's an emotional element there that I can't shake and I don't think Mick or Ferrari can either.

Because I Don't Want It. I want to see The Heir at ferrari. The connection between mick and ferrari is like... literally the only person who has a similarly personal connection to a team on the grid r/now is Charles. I don't think for Mick there is an option that isn't Ferrari. He already turned merc down once, even when they absolutely had the better team and the resources to get him there.

Why would merc take him or even plan to take him? The driver market is very competitive. They have plenty of drivers with more established records they could put in that car. I love mick to death but I don't think he's particularly wowed anyone in F1 just yet - he can't with that haas. I think it's really getting ahead of ourselves to be talking about merc when he doesn't even have midfield experience yet. If expecting him to go to ferrari is nepotism then expecting him to go to merc is just entitlement. It makes more sense to stick with Ferrari, who know what he can do very well from his junior career.

His last name actually damns him in the driver market. No team is going to want to put the resources into building their team around him when they know as soon as he shows the slightest capability of winning a championship ferrari WILL swoop in and he will probably, for personal reasons, say yes.

Mercedes treated his father like shit. They let the press focus their attacks on Michael being "washed" so they wouldn't talk about the car under-performing. They led michael AND fans on and then announced Lewis before he could announce his retirement or plans, making it look like he had been forced out. I wouldn't want to carry on his legacy with them if I were him, because there is no legacy. Just a recurring pattern of mercedes treating him like shit, first in his junior career and then again in his twilight years.

Also I know Mick is his own man. I love him as his own man and I respect him as his own man. But like. His last name is Schumacher. We can't escape it, he can't escape it, and the teams can't escape it. Not even ten years ago, Michael was on the grid. It's impossible to ignore, and I think there needs to be a nuanced way to both acknowledge Mick is his own person and accept that he's inherited a legacy and he and Ferrari have chosen to navigate that legacy together.

IDK I think you have to see that video where Seb has just joined Ferrari and they're talking to a crowd of tifosi and one of the tifosi says something like "Michael gave us hope. I look at you and I see him again, and I hope you can bring that feeling back to us" to understand how emotional that legacy is.It's not Mick being overshadowed by his father, it's Mick inheriting a legacy that holds meaning beyond him to people. He'll build onto it, he'll write his own chapter for sure. But the book still exists, and it doesn't diminish the strength of his writing to admit that.

Ferrari has always been a sucker for history. They're the only F1 team that has been around this long without a single rebrand, without ever once losing that chronological history of cause and effect. There's always an element of personal in their driver decisions - See: throwing sebastian out unexpectedly instead of just retaining him until they had a junior they wanted to promote. If Mick gets a capable car, if he shows he can hack it, Ferrari WILL sacrifice carlos on the altar. I've seen them do it to better drivers and I'll probably then see them do it to mick himself one day.

this is The Great Ferrari Masterplan. It's not wholesome, it's not what might be best for Mick, it's not even what I want for mick some days. But it's more likely than Mercedes imo.

ALSO lewis has literally just started to hit his peak. His goat status is nowhere near under threat. He could easily do 3-5 more years by which point Mick is either in a totally different situation or, well, gone.