#what genre is jeff buckley…

[mortally-beloved]

chase is so noise rock I can’t explain it

[stainlesssteellosermobile69]

This is the first and last thing I will ever post, but I felt that it was necessary due to the sheer lack of kickass playlists for Severus Snape. Here's mine:

[coff33andb00ks]

Burning - LN

Hopeless, Part 4

{1 - Hopeless} {2 - Luxury} {3 - Poison} {4 - Burning} {Epilogue}

Lando Norris x fem!reader summary: my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder, all my riches for her smiles, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter songs: lover, you should have come over by jeff buckley word count: 5872 warnings: angst, smut <mdni> a.n.: the finale <3

The overlook is quite lovely. Prettier than the photos he'd seen. The sea air is crisp, filling his lungs as he stares at a young family strolling along the beach. Pushing his hands into his pockets he watches them, homesick for something he's never had as the toddler picks up something to show their parents. A wholesome, beautiful moment, unmarred, and he swallows the lump in his throat as it occurs to him that he'll never experience it himself.

Turning his back to the sea, he breathes deep, eyes slowly scanning the area. Trying to match it to the description he'd been given. Gaze landing on the weathered bench he finds he's already walking towards it, one hand slipping from his pocket and reaching to trail along the arm, feeling the wood that's been carved with words and initials. And there, just as he'd been told, the two letters he would know anywhere.

Yours.

He drops onto the bench, leaning forward and trying to keep his breathing normal. It's the closest he's been to you in about a year – one year, two months, one week, five days, thirteen hours.

No, there was that day over winter break. When, melancholy and yearning, he'd spent more than he should have to fly out the week before Christmas, ignoring Oscar's suggestions that he stay away. He'd rented a car, following the roads you'd told him about to the seaside town that you'd described in such detail he could have drawn a map before seeing it. He'd driven the streets, stopped a few houses down from your parents' home. Had sat, watching the house, then cursed himself a million times over for being a fool and driven off.

Oscar hadn't said told you so. He'd merely sighed and nodded, listened to his sad story again.

You'd be so happy that Oscar's become his best mate. He wants to tell you, because he knows that only you would understand why it was such a big deal.

"Mate?"

He looks up, sighing at the sight of Oscar. "Nice, yeah?"

Oscar sighs sadly, sitting next to him on the bench. "You're torturing yourself."

"You said I could have one day," Lando reminds him.

"She's not gonna show up here on a Thursday morning," Oscar says after a moment.

"I know." It would be too movielike if you did. And the only genre of movies that reflects his life is tragedy. Standing, he walks over to stare at the beach again. The family has gone, their footprints already erased by the waves. When he heads back, Oscar stands, and there's a long look before they walk together to the gravel lot where they parked.

"Just call her." It's probably the billionth time Oscar has said the words since Lando's trip to Melbourne over summer break last year.

He exhales, about to lie and say he's deleted your number. But Oscar doesn't deserve lies. "I've tried."

"Did she block you?"

"Dunno." He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, stopped at the end of the lane coming down from the overlook. There's not much traffic, nowhere near enough to warrant him sitting idle for so long. He can't bring himself to hit the call button after punching in your number. Which he still knows by heart. The only number aside from his mum's that he has memorized.

"Lan?" Oscar ventures softly.

"Am I stupid?" he blurts.

Oscar sighs. "No."

"This—" He gestures angrily at their surroundings. "This isn't fucking stupid?"

"I wouldn't say stupid. Ill-advised, maybe?" Oscar follows a passing car with his eyes. "It's been a year."

He knows.

"I think if you were able to get over it, you wouldn't be here right now."

"I don't even know if she's here." His voice is wavering and he can feel the sadness and frustration and anger stinging, piercing what's left of his heart over and over, clawing up his throat and up into his brain, burning his eyes.

"You know her better than anyone." Oscar's voice is still gentle and soft. Careful, and Lando knows he's truly only there to support him. "Where else would she go?"

"Nowhere." This tiny corner of the world is your home.

"Call her."

Lando throws the car into park and bangs his forehead against the steering wheel. "This is stupid. It's been a year. A fucking year. I can't even bring myself to text her or call her, what the fuck do I think I'm gonna do if I bump into her on the fucking street?"

Oscar doesn't speak, merely waits.

"What would I say to her?" he whispers, scared to raise his voice because he knows he'll either scream or cry.

"Mate…"                                                                         

"It's stupid. I'm stupid. I should never have—" He cuts off, swallowing hard, squeezing his eyes shut. It shouldn't still hurt this bad. "I shouldn't have come."

"But you did."

"Yeah," he gasps.

Oscar's silent for a long moment, looking out the window while Lando struggles to compose himself, knowing that if he reaches out to offer comfort it won't be appreciated. "It's a small town, yeah?"

"Yeah." He scrubs at his eyes with the heels of his palms, wishing his heartbreak had been the type that was easily numbed. He's tried everything. Alcohol, exercise, random women, even random men when he was drunk enough. Therapy, antidepressants, meditation. Nothing's worked. He can get so drunk he almost forgets, he almost loses himself, but just when he's thinking this is it, it all comes rushing back and he snatches his body away from whoever he's with. Never much further than getting his belt unbuckled before he's rushing away with a shit apology and an empty ache in his chest.

It's been over for a year and it's still fucking him up. He can't do what the therapist suggested – seek forgiveness for your part in a wrongdoing – because Charles laughed in his face.

"You? Slept with her? Impossible. She has standards."

Fucking bastard.

"Switch, I'll drive."

Lando doesn't argue even though Oscar hates driving in America. Nothing rattles his unbothered friend. But six lanes of Americans driving like – Oscar's words – fucking cunts? His friend is ready to commit crimes. Once in the passenger seat he sighs, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. It isn't long before he feels the car stop and he sits up, not looking to see where they are. "I'll call the charter for a flight out."

"Not yet," Oscar tells him. "Wait here a minute."

Confused, he rubs at his eyes, trying to keep more tears from forming. He just wants to go. Best to resign himself to being lonely. Alone. Maybe he'll be lucky and time will eventually heal the pain, even just a little, and he can— Grunting as he looks out the windshield, he watches Oscar walk into a small brick building.

"Really, Osco, not the time to be a fucking nerd," he sighs, leaning back and throwing an arm over his face. Why the fuck are they at a library?

It's not long before Oscar's back, getting behind the wheel and humming softly to himself. He doesn't speak, still humming while he buckles his seatbelt and drops a folded sheet of paper in Lando's lap.

"What?" Lando sighs, dropping his arm and looking at the paper. Even more confused, he picks it up. "What is it?"

"Mate."

Sniffling, he rubs at his nose then unfolds the paper. At first he's still confused, reading the address written in Oscar's handwriting. "Is… Is that hers?"

"Yeah."

"H…" He sucks in a breath. "How."

"She said she wanted to go back to school and work in a library, right? They've got a display board up of recent things that have happened, and there was a picture of her with a bunch of kids. A paragraph about how she's working here as a research assistant while pursuing her master's in library science."

Lando rubs at his temples, knowing his friend wants to tell the whole story but longing to tell him to get to the fucking point. And also a little touched that Oscar remembered the detail about you wanting to work with books.

"Asked the lady at the desk about her, said I was an old friend driving through. She's off today, won't be back until Monday. When she went to help someone I nicked the notebook by the computer and it has everyone's address." Oscar smiles, obviously proud of his ability to spy without being caught. "Nice lady. Said y/n's an asset."

Lando nods, typing the address into the search bar of the map on his phone. "It's…"

"Close." Oscar reaches for the in-dash screen, pausing just before his fingers touch it.

He could tell him not to. Could shake his head. And Oscar would nod, they would call the charter, and be on a flight back to Monaco by dinnertime.

And he would spend the rest of his life trying to forget.

He swallows, barely nodding his head.

"…we'll shift our focus to the surge of trade throughout the Mediterranean, but first—"

You look away from your laptop screen when there's a knock on the door. The professor drones on and you mute him, standing from the couch and setting the laptop aside to go see who it is. You're not expecting anyone, and the neighborhood isn't the type where neighbors drop in uninvited. Peeking through the window, you furrow your brow at the unfamiliar car parked on the street. Leaving the chain attached you open the front door just a bit.

And nearly hit your knees in shock.

He's looking down at the stoop, at his impossibly white sneakers, and his hood's pulled up over his head but you know it's him.

"Lando," you breathe.

His head lifts and his eyes take your breath away. They're just as you remember them, the jade hue that could see straight through to your soul.

He looks sad. Worried.

Scared.

"H-hey," he says, his voice cracking slightly.

You can only stare at him, unable to really believe he's on your front stoop. The light breeze picks up and you're slammed by the aroma of his cologne. It's so faint you know you shouldn't be able to smell it but you do and a wave of memories rush through you with it.

"Hey, nice to meet you." He smiled, an easygoing aura radiating from him as he stepped over and held out his hand. "I'm Lando."

"Hi, I'm y/n."

You press your lips together and swallow hard. "Hey," you murmur.

You, walking along pit lane with Charles and on the phone with your best friend. "So I finally got the game installed. I need to upgrade, the lag is so bad I die before I can get a shot in."

"Really? What are the specs?" Lando asked suddenly, appearing at your side.

"Call you back," you laughed into the phone, putting it away and smiling at him. He was always popping up to talk to you, had quickly become one of your favorite people on the grid. He never seemed too busy to at least stop and speak to you, that easy smile putting you at ease.

Lando exhales, his shoulders rounding. His eyes are almost mournful, the light of memory flashing and you wonder if he's reminiscing, too.

"Sorry 'bout the mess," he muttered, picking up a helmet and looking around, finally placing it two inches from where it had been.

"It's fine," you promised with a laugh. "You live here, it shouldn't look like a magazine spread."

"Yeah? I guess. Anyway, here you go, have a seat."

You swallow again, the sound of his hand slapping his computer chair echoing in your mind. Easing the door to a little, you reach up to unlatch the chain and take a step back as you pull the door open further. "What are… How did you know where to find me?"

"I love it here, really, but I miss the space. I miss having a little patch of grass where I can plant flowers and not have people squeezing in around me," you said, sliding the tarts from the baking sheet to the cooling rack.

"I get it. But I mean, you could talk to Charles, right? See about getting a place with a garden?" Lando looked at the tarts with a longing sigh.

"At least let it cool," you teased. Leaning against the counter, you shook your head. "No, this is his home. He'll never want to move out of Monaco."

"I like it here, but it's not home." He shrugged, pinching off a piece of the pastry shell for a taste, grinning when you slapped at his hand. "There's a villa up the coast a ways – it has space and nice gardens. I've thought about getting it, but seems a waste just for me."

"You could get a dog."

He's standing in your tiny living room. He looks so out of place and yet he fits and you think you're just in shock. Pushing back his hood, he fiddles with his hair, the nervous gesture you remember him doing. "Osco… He's with me – I mean, in the car," he says, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb. "Man's a fucking spy I think."

"No, no, you put your hand here." His face is serious as he guides your hand to his shoulder. "Okay?"

You nodded, grateful he was willing to teach you. You knew Charles would happily pay for dancing lessons but it's embarrassing, not knowing how to waltz. And when you'd mentioned it to Lando he'd said to come by, he could show you the basics, and he'd practice with you so you wouldn't make a fool of yourself at the prince's gala. His hand moved to rest at your waist, warm and strong, and you felt a glimmer of heat as his other hand took yours, holding it up.

"We'll take it slow, yeah?" he asked softly.

He's still standing there, looking lost and scared, and all you can do is stare at him. You've seen him – on tv, online, on your phone because you hadn't been able to delete the pictures of him and every once in a while your phone likes to play a sick joke and throw you a memory that somehow always includes him. But you're struck by the slight differences since you've seen him in person. His hair is a little longer, that one curl he used to complain about dancing against his forehead. The scar from Amsterdam last year is faded, barely a line across the bridge of his nose.

He's still the most handsome man you'll ever see. He still takes your breath away. It's taking everything in you to not beg him to forgive you.

"Love it. This. Us."

You suck in a breath and hold it. "How are you?" you ask, because really what else can you say?

I'm so sorry I never should have let us end like we did, even if we were hopeless from the start. I still love you, I'll never stop loving you. I'll never stop needing you. I'm miserable.

"I'm fucking miserable, y/n." His voice is strained. "I-I came months ago. At Christmas."

You feel your eyes widen at the same time you watch his do the same. Suddenly recalling a strange car parked just down the street from your parents' home that had sped off. At the time your first thought had been that it was someone up to no good. "You did?" you whisper.

"I remembered where your mum and dad live, and I… I hoped I'd see you."

He would have, if he'd waited five minutes. But you remember the texts you'd sent that had gone unanswered. The one phone call you'd attempted two months after moving away from Monaco, at four in the morning when your dreams had been him.

They still are.

Lando takes a step forward. "Y/n…"

"Why are you here?"

"I miss you," he says, his voice still strained. Like he's just finished crying. Or is about to. And you don't want to see him cry. It'll break your unhealed heart. "Are… Are you okay?"

You jump slightly when there's a soft tap at the front door. It's still hanging open – way to go, just invite burglars and murders in – and both you and Lando spin to look.

Oscar holds both hands up. "Sorry to interrupt. Um… Hi."

"Hey," you squeak. God, you can't do this. You can't have this awkward, painful conversation in front of Oscar. "C-come on in," you say, dragging a hand through your hair.

"I, um, just…" His cheeks darken as he closes the door and he clears his throat. "Could I use the restroom?"

Blinking at him, you feel Lando step closer to you. With a small nod you point in the direction of the bathroom, backing away from Lando as soon as Oscar's back is turned.

"Y/n… Please—"

"What?" you ask. It's as though seeing Oscar threw some common sense into you. "I'm in the middle of a class."

"For the library thing, yeah?" One corner of his mouth lifts.

"How did you—" You glance towards the bathroom. "Maybe he is a fucking spy."

"He was trying to help me."

"He always has," you whisper.

"He's kept me from going completely insane this past year. I… I owe him a lot," he murmurs, and he's picking at his own fingers.

You're reaching to stop him and jerk your hand back. He's not yours to comfort. He never was. "He flew all the way here with you when he could be home with his girlfriend. I think you owe him at least a new car."

"She's pregnant."

You gasp. "Really? I should—" But you can't. You haven't been able to call her, either. You text sometimes, but your friendship with the other girlfriends will never be the same. She hasn't mentioned being pregnant and you know it's because you're not in the 'club' anymore. It's a wildly different life you lead now. And you're happy. You're miserable and lonely but you fake the happiness for the sake of your family and coworkers. "I'm happy for them."

"God, I hate this," he whispers, and he rubs his hands over his face.

Then he's reaching for you. Almost catches you, but you jerk away.

"Y/n—"

"You have no right, Lando. What, did you think I'd just fall right back into your arms?" you ask, voice trembling because you want to. You want to be hugged as only Lando's ever been able to do. But you can't let yourself, remembering all too well how your life had been destroyed because you wanted a hug once.

"I didn't – I miss you," he whispers. "It's been a year and I still can't wash the coffee cup you left on the counter because it's… It's still got your lipstick."

Your heart twists, thinking of the hoodie tucked in the very back of your closet. The one you were going to throw out two weeks ago but couldn't after you opened the bag and could still smell him. Then you firm your resolve. You can't. "I'm not stupid. I've seen how not lonely you've been—"

"I was trying to forget you!"

"Then try harder. Doomed, remember?" You'll never forget him saying that, or how your heart had fractured.

"I couldn't even do it, because I felt like I was cheating on you!" The words ring out and he looks shocked, face twisting. "That's how fucked up you got me."

That rankles you, and you don't know if it's because he tried or because he's blaming the failure on you. "It's not my fault you can't get off," you snap.

"I can only get off if I'm thinking about you," he snaps back.

Your cheeks flame, your broken mind immediately conjuring up the image of him in the shower or on his bed. And you would swear you can hear his breathy moans. You bite your tongue hard to keep from confessing that when you try to make yourself cum you have to think about him, too. "Lando—"

"Tell me you're happy," he whispers. "Say it and I'll go."

"Happiness is subjective," you say, because despite everything you can't lie to him.

There's a creak or a sigh. Both your heads swivel and though you've only ever respected and admired Oscar, you aren't happy to see him. He doesn't speak, turning and studying the notes and photos on the refrigerator door.

Your heart lurches, knowing he'll see the snapshot of Lando.

"Y/n."

You snap your eyes back to him, forgetting all about his friend when you look into his eyes.

"Can we just… Talk. Please."

"I would have talked a year ago. When you left me on read. I would have talked a few months later, when I called you and you didn't answer." The worst part had been that his voicemail greeting was the automated voice.

"I was hurting! I was trying to get over you! I wanted to hurt you—"

You gasp, the admission a knife in your chest. You deserve it, you know that, and so much worse, but it stings.

"Like you hurt me."

"What was I supposed to do, Lando? We were doomed. You said so yourself."

"I'd rather be doomed with you than broken without you."

You must leave. Despite how long it's been you're not strong enough. You doubt you'll ever be strong enough to resist him. About to step away, you remember it's your house. Small and cramped and yeah the neighbors are too close for your liking. But it's yours. "Go, Lando. Live. Be happy without me."

"Like you're happy here?" he asks, throwing his hands out. "Rotting away in a fucking library?"

"I was happy until you decided to show up." Your voice cracks and you try to hold it back but a sob escapes as you back away, shoulder banging the doorway of your bedroom.

"Don't lie to me, y/n," he pleads, taking a step closer and reaching out.

"Don't touch me." You shrug his hand away, trying to get out of his reach, lift a hand to slap his arm. He catches your wrist before you can and your breath sticks in your throat when he moves forward. "Lando, please, let me go—"

His lips crash against yours and you whimper. It's harsh and demanding and you struggle weakly against him, spinning as soon as his hand grabs your waist. His near feral moan vibrates through your body and in a heartbeat you're clutching at his hoodie, whining as your back meets the closing door.

"Lan," you whimper, shaking your head as you break the kiss. "Please, we—"

"One more," he gasps. He lets go of your wrist, his hand trembling as it cups your cheek. "God, please… I just need you one more time. Everything's wrong without you." His lips brush over yours, and you feel your own inconsolable longing reflected back at you. "Y-you were everything, let me feel everything again."

His kiss tastes like tears and stifled rage. It grows harsher, his body crowding yours tighter against the door. It's everything you've wanted for over a year and yet not enough and you whisper his name into the breaths you share, knowing you'll feel the worst pain imaginable when it's over and you're alone all over again. The pull of him is too strong though and you want to feel everything again too, want just one morsel of what you once had.

"Wish I could hate you," he groans, voice as rough as his fingers in your hair, so tight your scalp stings. You whimper with both delight and pain and he answers with a moan, snatching back, breathing uneven as his hand slides from your hair and there's a frantic, familiar scrambling to remove his hoodie and your shirt. His moan as his fingers brush your bare skin ends in a whine, tracing patterns over your chest. "Wanted to hate you. Wanted to forget you but you—" His mouth is on yours again, his hands clutching at your breasts. Your nipples are stiff before his thumbs brush them and he groans deep in his chest, pressing his thigh between yours.

He pinches and squeezes, lips almost cruel on yours, and you can feel the rage he feels. Know you deserve every bit of it for everything you'd done, and more than he's capable of showing. Tears sting your eyes. It's beautiful, crushingly so, because you know this will be the last time. You want to rush ahead, to feel the incandescence only his lovemaking had created inside you and you also want to slow down, to memorize every breath, every touch, so you can cling to the memories for the rest of your lonely existence.

"Y/n…" It's a low, drawn-out moan, lips parted over yours.

"Please," you gasp. You're practically squirming with need, and the hate for you that he can't muster is there, coming from yourself. "Need it, Lan…"

You feel his pained grimace, taste the ache and the agony on his tongue. "Need you," he whimpers.

"Us," you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut as your tears fall.

"Us," he barely sighs. One hand slips down, the rage still there as it pushes between your bodies and into your panties, cupping you and squeezing. His ragged groan echoes in your ears and it shreds the last sliver of your sanity.

You tip your head forward, initiating the next kiss, loosening your grip on his biceps and letting your hands smooth over his warm skin. Breathing in and holding it so you can taste and smell and feel him all at once. Your fingers trace the necklace at his neck and more tears fall – it's the one you gave him two years ago. Rough, his fingers rub along your slit, his other hand thudding against the door then cupping your throat. His lips still on yours, whining when you brush the tears from his cheeks.

He leans into you, fingers rubbing steadily, teeth catching your bottom lip as they grow slick. "Did you…" He moans when one finger dips, your hips tilt forward, pushing yourself against his hand. "You miss me, baby?"

"Yes." You're gripping his wrist, clutching his hair.

"This?" His fingers move in slow circles over your clit. "…Or me?"

"You, Lando, you," you whimper, head falling back, the curling heat so sudden you fear you'll cum already.

"Have you let anyone fuck you?" he asks, still rubbing your clit agonizingly slowly.

"N-no." Your cheeks burn, hating yourself for feeling a spike of desire at his crude question. Pulse racing, you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, and his low hum as he leans closer, lips at your ear now. Your pussy clenches, gushing and you let out a shaky moan, able to hear the slick sounds of his fingers working your clit. Your hand wraps around his wrist and he chuckles.

"You need to cum? Hm?" He moans right in your ear and your pulse thunders beneath his fingertips at your throat. "You're gonna cum that quick?"

"I—" You whine, clutching tighter at his wrist. "It feels good, Lando, I can't…"

"It's gonna feel better when I'm fucking you," he whispers.

"Yes," you hiss, head falling back with a thump. "Please!"

"You want it, baby?" There's a slant to his cooed words and you wonder if he does hate you after all. "Want me to fuck you?" His lips tug at your earlobe, smirking while you whine. Slipping his fingers down, he dips them inside you, echoing your moan as you immediately squeeze around them. "Oh I missed your pussy so much… That's why I couldn't fuck 'em, you know?"

"Lando, please." God, you're gonna cum. It's sick and it's twisted now, but he knows exactly how to play your body.

"Cuz I know how good this feels…" He sucks on your earlobe, fingers curling tightly, exhaling harshly as they brush your spot and your hips jerk. "Gonna feel so good when you cum on my dick."

"Yes, baby, I need that," you whimper, digging your nails into his wrist. You need it more now than you did a year ago, your body buzzing. "God, please… Let me cum for you, Lan – Fuck!"

"Cum on my fingers, baby," he hisses, stroking your spot so hard it hurt. But his words and the reminder that he knew exactly what to say and do to you send you spiraling, pussy squeezing tightly around his fingers as a ragged cry ripped from your chest. "That's my girl, fuckin' cum…"

His fingers slip out and you gasp at the gush, tugging at his hair while he rubs your slit rapidly as your body tenses and trembles, panting harsh in your ear when you squirt over his fingers. When you slump back he coos, fingers strumming your clit and causing your back to arch.

He snatches his fingers from your clit with a low growl, and your lips meet in a fierce kiss, hands meeting at his belt. You wriggle between him and the door, frantic and scrambling to remove your panties, gasping against his tongue as he kicks his jeans away and then he's jerking your hips towards him, pressing his face to the side of your neck and your breath catches in the back of your throat, hooking your legs over his hips. His cock, hard and straining, glides along your slit and his teeth sink into your skin as his hips surge forward.

"Lando," you cry out, eyes rolling back.

"Make me hate you. Please, fuck, I need to hate you."

"How?" It's a broken sob.

"You can't." He presses his forehead to yours, hands so tight on your hips you know you'll feel the bruises forever. "You can't, y/n…"

"I'm sorry," you whisper, lifting trembling hands to cup his face. "I'm so sorry, Lando."

He exhales slow, releasing your hips and sliding his hands up, keeping the rest of his body still. It feels as though he's re-memorizing your body, closing his eyes while his palms sweep over your shoulders and up to your wrists. There's a prolonged moment as his shaky breaths fan over your lips, then his eyes open.

They're luminous. Shining with emotion. You can't breathe, can't even blink, can only just barely feel him shift, reminding you he's buried deep.

"I miss you so much." His hands are gentle, smoothing your hair back and cradling your cheeks. There's the reverence you remember.

"I'm right here." Your vision blurs and his lips are on yours, tender where they'd been rough before. "I'm right here, baby."

"Can't lose you," he mumbles, shifting again, his arm winding around your waist and holding you close. "Can't lose you again, baby, okay?"

You whisper his name, unsure of what to say. You're not sure you understand. "Lan?"

He kisses you again, turning and you're floating even after he lays you down on the bed. Each touch is gentle, like he's afraid of hurting you.

As though you're a dream he doesn't want to wake up from.

"I love you," he says. And for the first time since he stepped into the house it's the voice you remember. Clear and bright, warm and your favorite sound. It's him, the real Lando that you know and love.

Your lips part to say the words back – of course you love him, you've loved him since the beginning, before he was yours to really love. Before he was your forbidden secret.

"I bought the villa." Even he looks surprise as the words pass his lips and there's a small smile on his face and you want to laugh at the absurdity of the moment. He's talking as though he isn't inside you, as though he didn't just make you cum against your bedroom door.

"You did?" you ask softly, fingers following the freckles splattered over his cheek and neck. "When?"

Lando shifts, gently guiding your legs around his waist. The friction causes your toes to curl and he pauses, stuttering out a whimper. "F-first of the – god – year."

"Do you like it?" You're asking about the villa, remembering the photos he'd showed you on the realty website.

"Fuck I love it so much," he moans. His hands squeeze your thighs and he lifts himself up slightly, licking his lips slow. Eyes still luminous, he looks down at you and you can feel he's holding his breath.

"I love you," you whisper. "I love you so much."

And it's like that's all he needed. He leans down, kissing you deeply, his hands finding yours and holding on, fingers tangled as he rolls his hips slow. His thrusts are slow and deep, echoing moans and gasps the soundtrack to the passion. There's no subdued rage or cruelty anymore, and you whisper apologies between kisses, needing him to know how sorry you are for hurting him.

"I'm so sorry… I love you… Love us." You whisper the words over and over, tasting the salt of his fresh tears and yours.

Clasped hands tighten, knuckles turning white. "Be mine," he murmurs, his tremble rippling through you. When you arch, crying out yes, he dips his head, pressing sweet kisses over your heart.

"I always was," you promise, eyes locked with his as the passion crests and you cum with a scream of his name. It's blinding, deafening, and all you know that is real is the tight grip of his hands.

"Get your degree," he murmurs an eternity later. You nod, heart racing, the ache that has been in your chest for so long begins to fade. "Move in the villa with me."

"What if it's doomed?" you whisper, fear slicing through the elation. "What if we fail?"

"W-what if we win?" His breath stutters harshly, hands squeezing yours even tighter. "What if it's sacred?"

He kisses you, both of you trembling as his thrusts quicken and you feel his muscles grow tight. Your name is a soft, pleading cry and you feel the heat of him filling you, hips straining and pushing you deeper into the mattress.

Another lifetime passes with delicate kisses. Tender whispers. Praise and love are murmured between you, and you feel the eternal hope springing back when he offers forgiveness.

If it's all a dream you never want to wake. You'll gladly sleep until your final breath or even hasten your end so you never have to know cold reality again. But it's not a dream when you wake up, it's real and he's real, and the love in his eyes is still there.

The peace, the dreamy bubble formed around you, is burst by a gentle tapping at the bedroom door.

"Um… You good, mate?" Oscar calls out, his voice amused and embarrassed.

Lando giggles against your shoulder, kissing your skin before lifting his head. "Are we good, love?"

"Can we get a dog?" you ask suddenly.

"Just one?"

You nod. "To keep me company while I'm studying."

Lando grins, dipping to kiss you quickly. "All good, Osco!"

"Thank fucking christ," Oscar groans..

a.n.: originally this was close to 9k, but I cut a full scene from the end, because these two idiots deserve a happy, hopeful ending. I hope you enjoyed. housekeeping: if you'd like to be added to my taglist(s), please fill out this form.

taglist: @driverlando | @leodette | @trisharee | @manicpixiemom | @littlegrapejuice | @mochimommy2002 |

[moneymartin]

teen gf Shauna headcanons pleaseee

🐶 - losergf!shauna hcs

warnings: mostly fluff but a lil smut under the divider :p

a/n: i know u didn’t ask for loser but shauna shipman is soooo loser girlfriend u cannot tell me otherwise. kinda messy and trash… i’m so sleepy rn i’m writing this half awake nd lowk a lil drunk UGH

taglist: @deerlottie @ultrone

my brown eyed beautiful baby where do i even start.

def the most athletic yj i will stand by this till the day i die

MUSCLE MAMAAAA

rolls up the sleeves of her flannels so you can see her muscles pop 😮‍💨

not a gym freak though but she works her arms 100%

cuddlebug fosho

little spoon and you can argue with me about that all you want this girl loves to be held

when she big spoons though she’s burying your face into her chest all the time

she plays with your hair tho no doubt abt it

even when you’re cuddling her instead

super soft kisses all over you while you doze off

sleeps after you do just to make sure cause sometimes you end up sleeping a lil too hard and she needs to make sure you aren’t dead

well thats what she thinks.

wakes up early even though she sleeps the latest out of the both of you

when you sleep for way too long she ends up full on wrestling you until you wake up

music geek

she def loves the smashing pumpkins, radiohead, the cranberries, the cure, mazzy star, jeff buckley, pavement, the cardigans. artists and bands of that genre

had a walkman like nat’s that you guys share on walks together

also has a vinyl player that she keeps at hers so you could listen to music with her when you come over

writes about you in her journal while she listens to the music

also writes these cute little love letters for you and she’ll write what songs she listened to while writing

sleepovers all the time though she’s one of those girls

drives you all over the place too

no matter how far so that you know she truly loves you

she goes absolutely nuts when you’re wearing her clothes i fink

esp her flannels

the moment you’re seen wearing one she can only think about taking it off of you cause it looks so good 😞

loves when you wear her jersey too

or her letterman jacket

funny sock gal

wears the one w monster faces on em or something like that

south park socks… hmo

SMARTY PANTS

got accepted into brown for a reason

she’s always helping you with assignments in case they’re too hard

she runs through them so fast though it actually baffles you to how she can do it

book geek too

has probably read harry potter a million times

edgar allan poe is her main dude she def likes poems and stuff from him

genuinely has a momma instinct

before you even get sick she tells you to be careful with the cold

and you don’t listen.

so you do end up getting sick and she has to take care of you until you’re all better

babies you but is also teasing you cause you didn’t listen to her warnings about it 😭 she could tell beforehand that you were gonna get sick

unlike lottie i think shauna has the ability to cook and stuff like that

not a 5 star chef but she’s good enough for you

being touchy in her public is her thangggg

you guys are always touching somehow

pinky holding, interlocked arms, holding hands, her just grabbing your wrist. she’s always gotta hold you no matter whaaaat

not very possessive but definitely a jealous person

makes it known she’s jealous w her attitude

has those anger issues we all know it

is not afraid to make a scene in front of a bunch of people she will cuss someone out for even looking at you

but she’s just jealous cause she’s really insecure :( poor girl my god

she thinks that the people you talk to are better than she’ll ever be

you have to reassure her countless of times so she can feel better about herself cause she’s always questioning you abt it

she loves little make out seshes behind the bleachers

its def the thrill of being caught like she loves that so much 🥸

when she kisses you she isn’t rough i think she’s very gentle actually

caressing your jaw and cheeks so you know she’s there and its not just some dream 😭

loves sitting on your lap while kissing cause it makes her feel like she’s the one in charge

also cause your hands are always in the spots where she wants them without her having to ask

biting…

teeth marks EVERYWHERE!!!

dom fosho but that’s not relevant rn

during arguments this girl is ruthless

not because she wants to hurt you but it’s because she’s always bubbling up

bottles up everything cause she’s afraid people won’t listen to her

but she’ll apologize eventually after if it looks like whatever she said got to you

won’t mean anything she tells you she just gets so mad at everything cause she can’t express herself as well :(

she regrets it so fast too like she’s immediately saying sorry afterwards

def a lace girly

loves showing off her new sets for you…

red black and white are the favs

OUUHHH

whiny as fuck but also holds her noises in cause she thinks they’re embarrassing

PANTER AND GROANER FOR SUREEEE

switch i think

like if she really wanted to she could top you but she’d rather be a power bottom

have you ride her strap or whatever…

its blue.

loves when you eat her out though cause she gets to pull on your hair

makes you talk her through it and when you’re topping but when she tops shes SO bold

she loves when you praise her thats the only thing she wants to hear from you during it

makes you kiss around her tits for sure

thats where she always wants you to be

when she’s jealous you’re constantly asking if she’s okay which leads into an argument

meaning that it’ll probably lead into really hot angry sex from her

the car scene really spoke to me

initiates everything too

anyways i’m done i’m so tired

[l0vem41l]

the passenger princess playlists

「 tws + notes: no tws, unedited, probably ooc, self-indulgent because we have fun here, author's taste in music is utter shit 」

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

↳ ft. these stupid parasites that keep infecting my brain aka bruce wayne,clark kent, jason todd, tim drake, and stephanie brown

author's note: THEY ARE THE PASSENGER PRINCESS!!!! WHY???? because if i projected my music taste on the reader insert we would have many issues. im not THAT self indulgent w/ my stuff i say, posting hcs of character's music tastes based on my own

you decide that it's time to show how much you trust them.

"hey," you mutter, eyes still on the road, fingers absentmindedly drumming on the wheel. "...you can have the aux cord, by the way."

▸ BRUCE doesn't even take it at first. he usually prefers to drive in complete silence himself, so he lets you handle the music. he's pretty nonchalant about what you play, indifferent to most music as long as it doesn't make his ears bleed.

the first time he takes the offer and plays something he personally enjoys, it's pretty straightforward: his main genres are classical, jazz, and dad rock. like... a lot of dad rock. he can read the room er, car?? well enough to know that the classical and jazz songs he listens to aren't exactly driving playlist material. and yes something in the way by nirvana will be played battison i fucking love you

BRUCE's songs include: ♡ she sells sanctuary by the cult ♡ something in the way by nirvana ♡ 1979 by the smashing pumpkins

▸ CLARK is more than happy to share his music! he's always been excited to hear whatever you jam out to and is pretty open to different genres. he definitely finds favorites of his that match the energy of your car playlists. doesn't wanna play anything that's too much of a bummer though, mainly because driving with you has such good vibes!!! he can't ruin that :( unless your in some sorta mood to be upset. then he's got some stuff aka a lot of elliot smith and jeff buckley

he finds a lot to love in all sorts of genres. it's a mix of stuff that he grew up listening to with his parents, stuff that he found on his own from artists he enjoys, and stuff you introduced him to. his music taste is just a mosaic of love for the people around him.

CLARK's songs include: ♡ it's been a long, long time by harry james and his orchestra ♡ cupid by sam cooke ♡ real love baby by father john misty

▸ if there's someone who's going to criticize music without sharing his full music taste? it's JASON. he's actually not mean but he'll make comments which give the impression that he thinks he'd be better with the aux. like bro ask for the aux normally. REMIND HIM WHO'S HOLDING THE WHEEL. YOU BETTER PRAY THAT THE VOTERS ARE IN YOUR FAVOUR WHEN WE DRIVE INTO THIS TELEPHONE POLE

when you give him the aux privileges he's secretly overjoyed. he likes a lot of different genres, rock, metal, indie rock, some punk... but don't ruin his mood by pointing out his music taste is vaguely inspired by bruce's. or make fun of him for listening to sleep token. obviously he likes listening to chill music too— but for a drive? it's gotta be loud and fast. secretly gets happy when you like the songs he plays. the validation gives him a quiet sort of joy.

JASON's songs include: ♡ knives out by radiohead ♡ goddamn these hands by the taxpayers ♡ custer by slipknot

▸ TIM is pretentious about music, but he doesn't intend to be. he's proud of his taste to the point where he's beyond spotify wrapped and stats.fm. i firmly believe he's made his own software to track the music he's listening to and it's thorough. that being said, he really doesn't mind listening to your music. he likes giving recommendations based off of the songs you play in the car.

tim adores branching out into different genres, and the more obscure it is, the more he likes it. given, he's also into some pretty known and loved bands. car seat headrest. radiohead. slaughter beach, dog. the minute you hand him the aux, he's trying to put you on his favourites. a lot of indie. like... so much indie. and midwest emo... american football WILL be played. he also unfortunately cannot hide his love for the pinkerton album.

TIM's songs include: ♡ never meant by american football ♡ oh! starving by car seat headrest ♡ tragic girl by weezer

▸ STEPHANIE is so cool. i've seen swiftie headcanons but guys... pop punk princess stephanie brown is too real. pop punk, alternative rock, riot grrrl— all that stuff. probably got aux privileges before you even gave her permission, she just started queuing up her songs with yours.

when she gets full control, she already has a playlist ready for the drive. it's kind of all over the place, but the vibes are great. you will go from mommy long legs to chappell roan and then to whatever recession pop artist she's into that week. steph is also a big fan of evanescence, kittie, and hole. those in specific are heavily headcanon-y but i feel like she'd appreciate them.

STEPHANIE's songs include: ♡ misery business by paramore ♡ cherry scented by jack off jill ♡ gimmie brains by bratmobile

▸ what are you listening to? you don't know but CASS seems happy at least. when you gave her aux privileges, she didn't really know what to do. she ended up just picking her favourite songs out of your usual playlists.

eventually, she gets excited by the prospect of sharing what she usually listens to and it's... something. so here's the thing: she listens to a lot of ambient noise. like, things that people usually sleep to. you once drove around for half an hour listening to nothing but the noises of rustling leaves and chirping birds through your speakers. and she was happy.

she listens to a lot of music where there's not a lot of lyrics most of the time, but tends to listen to some of stephanie's music as well— usually the more mellow side.

CASS' songs include: ♡ relaxing tranquil day in the forest by nature sounds ♡ healing ritual by whatever, dad ♡ to violet by adrianne lenker

part two... potentially??? lmk which character's you'd want ^_^

— reblogs always appreciated!

[beetheyapper]

MUSIC I THINK THE POETS WOULD ENJOY

this is not time period accurate but i do not care. i at least tried to keep it pre-2000s. also i’m 100% projecting my music taste onto them. deal with it? spotify playlists, each of which has around 30 songs, are linked below each description ! i spent forever on this 😭

Charlie Dalton

i’m not sure that i could pinpoint very many artists he’d particularly like, but this is a classic rock boy right here. he’d be into ac/dc, motley crue, led zeppelin, etc. perhaps a bit of duran duran (this is where i’m projecting the most.) songs about s3x and women, and songs that make him feel like the rebel he is. (this playlist has been gale hansen approved on twitter btw)

Neil Perry

oh i just know this kid would be into some funk and pop, especially 80s and perhaps even new wave (i’m again projecting). now THIS is a duran duran fan (specifically their early stuff), which is unsurprising since the lead singer has a drama degree. he’d also probably like fleetwood mac, and would be well-versed in the band’s drama. duran duran, wham!, fleetwood mac, abba, maybe even some hall & oates. songs with complex lyrics and also songs that make him wanna dance. lots of upbeat stuff because though he has things that bother him, he’d rather do anything but dwell on them.

Todd Anderson

honestly, considering they’re roommates, i feel like neil would’ve had a bit of an impact on todd’s music taste, so there’s some band influence there—but regardless, i think todd would be into more mellow and emotional songs. jeff buckley comes to mind, along with the eagles, the beatles and maybe a splash of the smiths also pls pretend now and then didn’t come out last year. he would also be letting it linger i fear

Knox Overstreet

knox would be similar to Charlie, as they probably bond over shared music taste just as much as everything else. very heavy on the classic rock, but a lean more towards songs about needing someone and love songs as he pines for Chris. Tom Petty, Robert Palmer, The Cars, and a bunch of songs introduced to him by Charlie. He sticks more to genre/theme than to a specific artist methinks

Richard Cameron

contrary to what some may think, i think Cameron would absolutely groove to some rock n roll. HOWEVER. he is a 60s-70s rock n roll elitist. he thinks Billy Idol’s cover of Mony Mony is a disgrace. he wholeheartedly believes the Beatles are the best band to have ever graced the planet. The Beatles, The Beach Boys. The Rolling Stones, etc. Maybe even some Simon & Garfunkel. Him and Charlie argue a lot about which decades were the best years of rock music

Gerard Pitts

free my boy. he just wants to dance he ain’t do nothing wrong. his music taste has definitely been influenced by some of the other poets, in the sense that if he hears a song with a funky beat that makes him want to dance, it’s added to his mixtape IMMEDIATELY. for this reason, i’m thinking lots of funk and groove. play that funky music white boy! Bee Gees, ABBA, Talking Heads, Pet Shop Boys, etc. as long as he can dance to it he could care less who it’s by

Steven Meeks

another old rock, but more on the calm side with some hints of folk and fun. Donovan, The Beatles (paul is his fav for sure), The Beach Boys, and he definitely loves every white person anthem, including Sweet Caroline. he likes to groove with Pitts but also like soothing music to study to !!! i had to consult my friend on this one i fear i was drawing a blank

AND THAT is my opinion on each of the poets’ music taste. did i squeeze Duran Duran into almost all of them? perhaps. they’re my fav band let me live… feel free to listen to the playlists (please listen to them. pls i don’t want to have made them in vain.) and maybe even become spotify moots with me :D

[wiinterz]

ain’t no story fit for us | satoru

pairing: satoru x black plus size fem!reader

genre: established relationship, one-shot

warning: fluff(?), heavy angst, character death, blood, injuries, usage of a gun, detailed with the injuries, betrayal, deception of religion

word count: 1.6k

summary: he’s your best friend, your boyfriend, your one and only. there was nothing in the world that could pull you two away.

☏ ᴛᴀʏ’s ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛs: old one-shot!

songs: sweet gin by leisure suite. lover, you should’ve come over by jeff buckley.

recs I taglist I help hub I jjk m.list

storm-blue eyes darted around the area, his porcelain hand wrapped around your ebony hand. lips pressing kisses that scattered everywhere on your shoulder as the two of you walked. the sky had been empty, a void that looked exactly like his eyes.

sliver buildings filled the streets as the two of you walked. you kicked the pebbles under your sophisticated boots, ones he bought for you. he was quiet, muted, yet brain full of static like a tv. his arms wrapped around you tightly, his heart pounding.

you had no idea what was wrong with him if anything was wrong with him. he denied it each time you asked but you knew him well. his eyes which were glint in color had been completely distorted.

his pink lips were cracked, eyes glistening from his demons. his mind roared like thunder in the storm while he stayed silent like the eye of the tornado. he held your hand tightly, feeling as if he would lose you.

he was terrified of himself, of what he saw when you weren’t there. when the loneliness crept in, dragging him out of his bed.

he tugged on his midnight purple sweater, his black pants matched with his black sneakers. ones that got dirtied up by the puddles in the streets. the streetlights reflect on your face, your eyes lighten up as cars beep and drive by. you had your earphones in, and you and satoru sharing them.

the sounds of music. something so peaceful yet never helped him.

you held onto him, walking past strangers, some occupied with their phones, maps, or food. you, however, were occupied with figuring out where your train was. going down to the subway, you let go of his hand, handing your ticket. satoru tapped on his thigh, his head hopping to the beat of the music. you looked around the subway, people in different styles and different expressions walked by. some with urgency in their steps while others seemed to have no care in the world.

the white light cast on his skin, he’s looking up, his diamond-cut eyes had been drowned with pearly salts that hit his cheeks. he’s uncommunicative, the cords of the song taking over his consciousness.

you stare at him for a moment, taking in his beauty, one that makes you yearn for him. your heart beat for him, your soul kissed his ever so kindly — yet he was rigid and could never completely comprehend your love.

he’s like a guardian angel, staring up to the gates of heaven, ones that cast him out, like the fallen angel. the palm of his hands scarred from his nails, pushing into his skin, cutting down. causing him to bleed a bit. dark blood dripped on the floor and his shoes. he kept looking up, biting on his bottom lip. yielding to his demons, that greed for his salvation.

you walk up to him, picking his hand up slowly, and opening his palm. he looks at you, gulping. you were his savior, you lit the candlesticks that had been darkened from the touch; his touch.

his mouth parts open, yet nothing escapes. birds stuck in cages, banging to be free. yet, nothing.

you go in your bag, take out a wet wipe, place it on his skin, you rub it softly, muttering sweet words to him. things to remind him, that he’s safe. though he wished he could believe it, however, it felt as if it were lies — he was not safe, not when you weren’t around. yet it was an unforeseen war coming, one you couldn’t save him from that would take satoru to choose a life with you or without you.

licking his lips and rubbing them, he kisses your cheek. on time, the train comes, opening the doors to let people in and out. you guys go on the train, sitting down on the seats. satoru still listened to music while you went through your bag to make sure everything was in there.

once you had everything, you kept your bag close to you. satoru rests his head on your shoulder, wrapping his hands around your arm and closing his eyes. you stay quiet, opening up your book as you read to yourself, becoming engrossed by the story immediately.

the lights flicker above him, pushing past people as shoulders hit each other. he coughs, blood spitting on the ground. his shoes are a mess, dirt covered on it. his beige color shirt matched with the background. people ignored him, yet he stuck out like a sore thumb. he knew it, yet he didn’t care, that was the least of his worries. finding an ivy-green painted wall, he leans on it, covering the side of his stomach. applying pressure on the gash.

groans leave his lips, and his dark brown eyes stay closed. he’s got a horizontal cut on his left eye, a bit of blood spilling out and covering his sclera. his long black hair covers most of his face, and his left hand fully bloody. tears fall to his neck, messing up the collar of his shirt.

he’s a deadman walking and he knows it. different shades of grey sully his soul.

you wrap your fingers around his non-injured hand, kissing his forehead, pushing his white hair back a little. satoru looks at you with a weak smile. he kisses your lips and rubs your cheek.

to satoru, you look like a goddess of purity, if water spilled on your skin, it would make beads that you could hold and make jewelry out of. your hands were warm in contrast to his cold ones. your hands kept him feeling like home was you. and in his mind, if heaven truly existed, you would be the true embodiment of it.

the train goes to a stop, letting you know you reached your destination. satoru stands, holding his hand out for you. you take it and the two of you walk together. once you were out of the train, you guys turned to the right, walking down, you knew you had to walk upstairs to get out of the station. yet in hindsight, the walk to the stairs seemed farther than usual.

satoru kept holding your hand, his other fingers tapping on his thigh to make a beat. it was his way of keeping him calm through the crowded area. a little trick you taught him anytime you got overwhelmed.

pushing up from the wall, he groans a bit and starts to walk. placing his hand on people’s shoulders, some freak out while others give him a  foul look. though he couldn’t care less, he was making it through the crowds, seeing the figure he wanted. his target, his victim, his success.

he smirks, his eyes glimmering with a deception of happiness. he was a false god, and he was content with the title. cause in some cases, he was a god to others, he was that fallen angel, who burnt everything beautiful. he burnt himself in the midst of it all. his eyes widened, when people got in his way, making it harder for him to get ahold of his trophy. yet giving up was far too easy for his liking, he was close to tasting succession.

his chain of hands praying slipped out from under his shirt. dangling down, a bit of blood has splattered on it, rusting the sliver.

once he sees his trophy once again, a smile appears on his face. he walks up only to be pushed right back into the sea of people. yet never giving up, he made his way to his victim. in his mind, it was filled with sickening sentences of death. some saying crush the soul from the outside in. others begging for him to create a massacre that would be a blurry beauty.

yet he stuck to one, his original prophecy plan.

pulling the gun out from his back pocket, he holds it, meters away from his victim’s back.

you accidentally dropped your lipgloss, watching it roll, you sigh and turn around, about to pick it up. your eyes widen seeing a man — the man, holding his gun, pointing it at you.

satoru hears you gasp, making him turn around to see what nightmare you uncovered. in the blink of an eye, the gun’s position moves with you, as you take up your lipgloss and slowly stand straightly. the cold metal moves swiftly, staring deathly at your man.

satoru eyes widen, tears forming immediately to the revealer of his betrayer. “suguru?” his voice soft like a pillow, yet held so much weight, something similar to the weight the gun placed on suguru’s hand. he levels the glock with satoru’s face, tears with the mixture of blood flowing down to his cheek. in the process of his feelings, his finger pushed hard on the trigger, feeling the gun spring a little.

the bullet crackled through the gun, and the shutter of the weapon was loud, making everyone around see the destruction. satoru’s body jumped a bit, his head going forward while the rest of his body fell back. hitting the ground, you scream, immediately going to the ground and holding him like a child.

you look at suguru who stares at satoru. no words needed to be spoken, their eyes did the talking. a silent argument between the two as people ran and became worried about themselves instead of satoru.

satoru’s eyes were full of pain, of genuine hurt. his own best friend, his brother — causing such devastation to fulfill his demon’s needs.

suguru stared at satoru, while you kept coddling satoru, crying for someone to help. your pleas made suguru feel worse than better. and yet, he did nothing but watch you struggle, watch his enemy suffer.

[campbyler]

What are Mike and Will’s top three artists? (Idk if you’ve mentioned it before sorryy)

oooh i don’t think we’ve named specific favorites for them before!! i don’t know if we’ll be able to just name Three (edit: coming back to proofread after typing out this ask. i did not just name Three), bc to me acswy mike and will both have pretty varied music tastes — i think they’d both listen to a lot of different genres and artists, especially music that their friends/family/assorted loved ones introduce them to that might not be something they’d usually go for.

mike: we did mention in ch2 that mike has a demon days poster above his bed in the blue cabin, and while i don’t think gorillaz is one of his Favorite groups by any means, i do think he 1. listens to them a lot while driving specifically and 2. just reallyyyy loves their album art. to me mike is also such a pop punk enjoyer, so i think some of his go-tos include bands like all time low and paramore and blink-182, probably with a little midwest emo thrown in bc the boy did literallyyyyy grow up in indiana. i do also think he has a soft spot for feel-good pop, especially boyband music like 1D and BTR, and i think 5sos is not technically a boyband (or that they don’t like to be called one? iirc? maybe?) but i think he would listen to them quite a bit as well! really and truly i think mike would just like a little bit of everything, and his fav artists probably rotate a lot depending on his mood.

will: always a jeff buckley enthusiast across universes to meeeee, and the clear answers here are also the cure/the clash and other oldies rock OBVIOUSLYYYY but i think he would also totally dabble in typical 2020s Male Manipulator Music lol with likeeeee peach pit and the backseat lovers and the strokes especially. i think he’d also be into midwest emo (cannot escape his fate), and maybe also deftones and ptv a little bit (<- self indulgent and me projecting but i am not sorry). i think he also has a soft spot for pop, but not really in the same way mike does — for example, el definitely makes him listen to a lot of carly rae jepsen and the like when they’re together, and he also has a lot of good memories of listening to older pop songs with his mom when he was younger! like. he hits shuffle on his liked songs and it’s destiny’s child followed by radiohead followed by jenny by studio killers. he contains multitudes i’m afraid

[chainkeepustogetherr]

BROKEN DOWN N’ HUNGRY, JEFF BUCKLEY ONESHOT

synopsis: in which, it simply isn’t too late to pay your ex-lover a surprising visit.

genre: angst i think? lil bit of fluff as-well!

IT HAD PRECISELY only been a matter of weeks, but it sure as hell felt like months since you and your now ex lover amicably decided to end things. Needless to say, you regretted it almost simultaneously. The lack of warmth on the left side of the bed every morning seemed to materialise it.

You woke up each morning with a sense of misery, almost emptiness within each pass of sunrise, day in and day out.

To make matters worse, the weather soon became rather drowsy and depression enduring, which seemingly added to your sense of blues, considering rainy days tended to be you & Jeff’s favourite kind of days to spend together, often humbly wrapped up within each other, simply devouring every savouring moment you two would spend together.

Looking out the small window located on your door, you observe the hues of grey and black painted on the clouds outside, delicate falls of rain cascading down below those very clouds. You stay seated and ponder on the fact that maybe you both were simply just too young to keep your love from going wrong.

You begin to wonder where Jeff is and how he's doing, if he could be missing you anywhere near as you are him. You'd heard through the grape vine that he'd been back out around town, seemingly carried away in his own world having his fun, a stark opposite of yourself who seems to spend most of her days pondering on the rather daunting & thought inducing would've, could've, should'ves this situation poses.

You wonder, what would happen if you simply returned? If you knocked on his door, what would come of it? Would a sense of shame wash over you as you realize he simply doesn't care anymore? Or is it not too late to rekindle things?

Although, little do you know, Jeff has been experiencing the exact same in return. Although he has been seemingly out and about, he often spends most mornings discomforted due to your absence. He spends most of his nights in despair, constantly tossing and turning due to the lack of sleep he faces. He imagines your silhouette smiling softly against him, the scent of comfort and vanilla overwhelming his senses. The fantasy constantly brings him to the verge of tears, simply wishing he had you with him. He feels as if he’s broken down and hungry for your love, yet feeling as though theres no real way to feed it. He ponders, wondering it he will ever feel the bliss of your sweet return.

It feels as if you've been gleaming out the window, looking for some form of metaphorical answer to your unresolved queries for hours and hours on end, but in reality, its only been about half an our or so. You come to the conclusion theres simply not much you can do, considering you remain unsure of if you're willing to deal with any negative consequences if you were to knock on Jeff's door, the humiliation seems too much for your currently sheer broken heart.

You decide to simply go for a drive, hopelessly leading to no where in particular in some form of effort to clear your head of any trace of Jeff. Yet, you feel yourself driving through a rather familiar road, though your mind doesn't seem to register what exactly you're doing & where exactly you’re travelling to.

Within minutes, you pull up to the familiar house that you've spent hours upon hours in, finally realising just where you are. You stay seated in the car for several seconds, realising you had no exact plan on what to do, nor say.

“Fuck it" you whisper under your breath, deciding to simply wing it and air out whatever thoughts previously on your mind earlier in the evening.

You slowly step up the stairs of Jeff's home, letting out a small unsteady breath you weren't aware you were holding in. Knocking three times, you begin to feel a swarm of anxiety take over your stomach, comprehending the fact that this could go extremely right, or extremely wrong.

The door steadily opens, a disoriented Jeff stands before you, a sense of weariness and lack of sleep apparent within his chocolate tinted frames.

His mouth slightly agapes open, his eyes widening slightly in a display of shock, it seemed. “Oh uhm... hello" he speaks, rather softly, yet cautiously.

“Can we talk?.. please?" you say, attempting to hinder the urge to formulate tears from cascading down your face.

“Yeah, yeah of course, come in, the place is a bit of a mess" he replies, a slight hint of embarrassment presented in his voice.

Though you simply nod in silence, unable to find the correct words to say.

"Do you uh, want a tea or a drink? or anything?" he asks, attempting to find a trace of emotion within your face, hoping and praying he isn't dreaming this current moment, due to his lack of sleep.

“No, I'm okay, thank you" you say.

"I think i understand why youre here, but i think i need to hear the words and phrases come out of your mouth, n’ not give into the thoughts that my mind is practically screaming right now " he says, anxiously laughing towards the end of his sentence.

"Yeah, well i just" you pause, attempting to find the right phrase to say without attempting to come off in a hasty manner. "Im just, having a real hard time with this, you know? I really, like really fuckin' miss you and i, just don't know what to do about it anymore”you speak, holding your head within the palms of your hands to hide any trace of emotion painted within it.

“I know i shouldn't come here and i know i should just let it go but i cant. I feel like pure shit everyday, especially when everyones telling me you're doing fine without me n’ i'm sitting in bed, unable to pin point what exactly went wrong" you continue, praying to god you haven't stated your emotions too strong.

A strong, rather unsolicited pause soon follows, allowing you to contain your thoughts in some sense of the word. Though within each growing second, the silence begins to haunt you in a manner, causing your stomach to undergo several different twists and turns, in a similar sense to a rollercoaster of the sorts.

“Don’t believe all the bullshit stories people feed you, okay? Look at my eyes, i look a mess, no? Like i haven’t slept in days?” he rhetorically speaks, not exactly anticipating a response. “I spend my nights awake reminiscing on the times we shared, reminiscing on you. I spend my nights writing endless amounts of poetry, journal entries and songs about you, and god, when i finally do get an ounce of sleep within my system, my dreams always revolve around you in one shape or another” he explains faintly, feelints of passion, yet great sadness oozing from within his tone.

“I consistently think about us and how much i regret the decision we made, its like it fucking haunts me, n/n” he furthermore continues as minor formations of tears begin to brim within the corner of his eyes.

“I really, really, truly did and do love you, you know? Honestly, i believe a fragment of me always will, no matter how close or far set we are apart” he formulates, withholding a strong gaze.

You bite down on your now shaky lip, both attempting and hoping to suppress any tears of your own from manifesting.

Though, a strong sense of relief soon overcomes all five of your senses, a feeling of existential bliss soon following as you ground yourself down to reality, realising Jeff’s words are true and arent a figment of your imagination somehow.

“God, i love you too, Jeff. You’re ‘boutta make me cry, asshole” you playfully jester, wiping away the newly devised tears.

“C’mere sweetheart, wouldn’t want that, would we?” he retorts, inching closer towards you, soon following by wrapping his delicate arms loosely around your frame in a tender manner.

“We’ll sort all this out in due time, okay? No rush, it’ll eventually unfold. I love you too much to let you go this easily, to let this go too easily” he enunciates, though the volume becoming slightly muffled due to his cheek being positioned in a scrunched manner alongside the tip of your hairline.

He furthermore places a delicate kiss along your shoulder, the feeling causing several fragments of goosebumps to arise upon your skin levels as you nod in response to his prior confession. The warmth of his kiss upon your body, the delicacy of his embrace and the scent of him sending a dizzying effect to your mind-frame, the only thoughts occupying your mind being ones of relief, bliss almost. You truly missed the raven haired, chocolate eyed boy beyond belief, beyond words could truly and coherently verbalise.

[cxndiedvi0lets]

Music?

Oh sure, do you want to listen together, or are you asking me my favourite genres or my favourite artists? I'll just answer all of it ♡

Favorite Artists/Bands:

• The Smiths

• Radiohead

• Hole

• Nirvana

• Mazzy Star

• The Neighbourhood

• Fiona Apple

• Morrissey

• Jeff Buckley

• Mitski

• Lana Del Rey

As for genres? I'd say im quite eclectic but at the moment?

Shoegaze, Alternative Rock, Grunge, Alternative Pop, and Indie Rock.

What about you? :)

[tobyislame]

WHATS TOBYS FAV MUSIC???? LIKE WHATS HIS MUSIC TASTE?

someone asked what bands he likes so im grouping these together but IM SO GLAD U ASKED IVE BEENWAITIGN FOR SOMOENE TO ASK ok so . he likes every genre of music ever but lets narrow it down a lil

if it has cool guitar/bass parts hes fuckin with it cus thats mostly what hes listening for in music as a guitar player, so stuff like the strokes, interpol, franz ferdinand, modest mouse, pavement

also maaajorly fucks with 80s stuff, mostly new wave (the stone roses, echo & the bunnymen, tears for fears, pet shop boys, when in rome, duran duran, new order, peter schilling, billy idol, gary numan, wham!)

likes rap but only if its from the 90s, so yk 2pac, ice cube, the notorious b.i.g., snoop dogg, wu-tang, eminem, (sighs really hard) beastie boys

hes a country boy at heart so he likes old country but it has to be OLD, before the toby keiths and blake sheltons . think johnny cash, hank williams, marty robbins, oh hell throw elvis in there too

folk rock as well, stuff like jeff buckley, crosby stills and nash, simon and garfunkel, not sure if willie nelson would be in this category but him too

anddd also loser music cus hes just the biggest loser that ever losered . weezer, blink-182, sum 41, limp bizkit, ben kweller, the front bottoms, car seat headrest, radiohead, etc etc

also heres my toby playlist that ive been building on for 2 years, feel free to peruse the almost 400 songs on it

[pigswithwings]

what does music mean to you? both mysic you listen to qnd or music that you play. feel free to name specific songs

to perform music is to suffer for me. i really love being able to play pieces from memory and at will, but it is truly tormentous to practice for hours and hours and hours to get to that point. however it is so so so fucking amazing to perform for other people, to finally get the right dynamics and timing and really just go "okay i guess I'll remember this piece forever now".

to listen to music is like. to lend your soul and eyes and mind to a musician for a moment. getting into a beat and putting your voice into singing the lyrics that someone else wrote is like a love letter of some sort. listening to music is like reading poetry, in that I've been told that poetry ought to convey or enrich a lived experience. and music does just this, give life to an unreal situation or deepen one's experience of a current one.

these songs have affected me deeply:

Lover, You Should've Come Over by Jeff Buckley feels rapturous. Like any good song it takes a while to really experience, but at one point I felt like I was gaining a deep and profound knowledge by listening to it. Absolutely wild song.

mos thoser by food house is an absolutely awesome song. Can't properly describe my euphoria at the lyrics, the tempo of the song, the tempo changes. It's just too good. Usually with fast songs like this (i do not know many genre names) I start to dislike them because they can be very repetitive, but after a while of liking this song I can confirm it's still damn good, gets me excited every time. Hot pink bitch named breakfast, dude.

Symphony No. 2, Mov. III (Adagio) by Rachmaninoff is long but please understand that I am big on Romantic era music and holy shit it delivers. I believe that the length of this movement is absolutely necessary to build on the themes of such a gorgeous piece. Oh my god. Check out the seven minute mark, my favourite part.

Everything She Wants by Wham! is awesome to sing to, dance to, whatever. Solid beat going, I really dig the back and forth during the vocalization bits. The jump in pitch at "Somebody tell me" just evokes a great dramatic feeling. Makes a guy want to fall to her knees and pound the floor for fun.

[bludhavens-finest]

So what is your favorite band then? at least rn

also what's your favorite in that catagory of like grunge from that time period

My favorite band right now is probably Pink Floyd (but specifically their "dark side of the moon" album because Time and Us and Them are both really good. I also really like Jeff Buckley right now

And for that era and genre probably something like The Smashing Pumpkins or Hole

[biscuitdolly]

what type of music are you into? what are your favorite artists?

Good question!! i'm into heaps of stuff honestly. My favourites genres at the moment would probably be ye ye, psychedelic rock, shoegaze, riot grrrl, glam rock, jangle pop, and new wave. I like a lot of stuff from the 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s and early 2000s.

At the moment, my favourite artists are Jeff Buckley, Elliott Smith, No Doubt, Sublime, April March, Francoise Hardy, The Cramps, Japan and Divinyls!!

[dallonwrites]

UNTIL HEAVEN - WIP INTRO

matthew lejune / @dallonwrites / ocean vuong / mary ruefle

He knows that his headache is quietly growing vicious and he should take off his headphones, but now they’re singing about Heaven and Las Vegas – two places he has never been – and he knows that at some point, still unknown to him, his father died, and maybe that means he’s now stuck in Heaven or Las Vegas or somewhere in between. Or maybe that means he’ll just be everywhere, in the rain on Felix’s face and the ache behind his eyelids, and that’s how it’ll stay.

Genre: Adult Literary Fiction, novella (please god stay a novella)

Setting: San Francisco/New York, December 1990/January 1991

Vibe: shoegaze & dream pop, warm lighting, ginger flavor, a city skyline at night, going to church for the first time in years, feeling too old and also like you were born yesterday, disposable camera photos, the passing of time, stuff rabbit toy from your childhood, the hallway at a family gathering, planetariums, cold air on your face, retro christmas decor, realising you were once a child and that child deserved so much better

Deals With: parental grief when your parent was a piece of shit, Christian trauma, queerness in relationships, adulthood as you progress through your 20s, healing + building your own life after a traumatic childhood and what happens when that is disrupted

Soundtrack Essentials: The Cure - Plainsong / Mazzy Star - Be My Angel / Cocteau Twins - Cherry-Coloured Funk / Cocteau Twins - Heaven or Las Vegas / Beach House - The Hours / Jeff Buckley - Dream Brother / Tamino - Cinnamon

Synopsis: When Felix's father dies suddenly it's a week before Christmas, he and Beau had just begun experimenting with an open relationship, and he refuses to interrupt his life to mourn a man who doesn't deserve it. But when he can't stop his body from grieving, and his sister is growing obsessive over the morbid details, and at work he's teaching children that remind him of himself, an opportunity to impulsively leave sees Felix spend an insomniatic month in New York: diners at 3am, trips at the club, a birthday spent in a planetarium, one night stands to tell his boyfriend about in the morning, and a dangerously intense relationship with an enigmatic man who wants to know everything about his father.

This is another piece in my personal project/emotional support series and follows Revelations, Revelations and Lover Boy. If you know me you know Dorothy and Felix are my annoying children who I love so dearly and this novella is paired with a future novella that follows Dorothy during the same time. Fun fact! I only returned to writing because I wanted to explore Felix more and now I have an entire world that dominates my brain and it's all his fault! So this novella is kind of like a love letter to him. I also literally only created this so I could have a project that was soundtracked by historic Cocteau Twins' album Heaven or Las Vegas. Currently drafting because it won't leave my mind

The answering machine beeps awake -- and then, Beau's mother, reminding them that they're in charge of dessert tomorrow --and then, Beau's coworker wishing them both a Happy Holidays, a Stacy who Felix has never met -- and then his sister, sarcastic but loving, This is me calling so you know I made it home alive, just like you asked -- and then surprisingly, Goldie, Hi Felix, even though school broke up weeks ago, So I know it's Christmas, but I wanted to let you know that I talked with Joey's father and it sounds like he's doing much better at home already. He's even excited to come back to your class! And his father sounds super proud and optimistic about his progress and by the end of the last message he’s on the floor, back to fridge and elbows on his knees, face in his hands. And he lets out a shaky, snivelled breath that makes him push his palms harder against his eyes, against the wetness because he can’t cry, not over this, not when there’s still Christmas presents to wrap and last minute laundry so stop crying, get up, put on your new Mazzy Star record and get on with it. He straightens his back, holds his head up, takes a few deep breaths that feel more like gasping for air and also like pulling barbed wire out of his throat, gazes at the slants of streetlight on his living room wall. He can’t cry, not over this and not here, not in the home he’s worked so hard to make so warm. So he sits with himself, wipes his own eyes and holds himself in his own arms; when he feels calm enough, or trusts himself to be, he leans forward so he can open the fridge and reach in for the last ginger ale, cold in his hand and warm down his throat. Just him and the hum of an empty apartment.

[lizzi3]

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WELCOME TO MY BLOG

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About Me:

Name’s Lizzy or Lizzie whatever you like go crazy

Minor, middle of teens 14-16

she/her

Fashion alternates between 70s, 80s glam/alt/prep, 90s grunge/etc. idk what to classify

I am a maximalist, minimalism makes me sick where’s the personality?

Manifesting being famous rockstar one day

All you need to know is that I am a music junkie

I make my hair real big n frizzy like it 1986 cuz it’s curly

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Interests/Fandoms:

-Music:

My favs rn are if you couldn’t tell:

Poison

Hole

Nirvana

Jeff Buckley

Extreme

Van Halen

Mötley Crüe

Blondie

Stevie Nicks

GNR

The Go-Gos

Wham!

Ratt

Pat Benatar

Ramones

Green Day

Hanoi Rocks

Great White

Solya

etc etc basically I like all sub genres of rock n metal n such n alternative n basically everything except the stuff I don’t like?? good soup is good soup

-Movies:

Lisa Frankenstein

The Outsiders

Tex

Grease

Edward Scissor Hands

Breakfast Club

Sixteen Candles

Better Off Dead

License to Drive

Pretty in Pink

St. Elmo’s Fire

Dead Poets Society

My Bodyguard

The Warriors

Wayne’s World

Bill and Ted

Lost Boys

Over the Edge

Dazed and Confused

10 Things I Hate About You

Brokeback Mountain

500 Days of Summer

A lot of 70s-80s coming of age stuff

-Books:

Pride & Prejudice

The Outsiders

Tiger Eyes (Judy Blume)

Emma

Rebecca

If you have recommendations for coming of age novels please tell me!!

-Misc:

Drawing

Electric Guitar

Writing

Photography (blog is @shotbytinlizzy )

US History

Makeup (basically eyeshadow n eyeliner)

Bangs Supremecy everyone should have bangs

Over the Garden Wall

Downtown (mtv)

-DNI

Homophobia/Racism/sexism

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other socials:

pinterest 📌 tinlizzy3010 & shotbytinlizzy(📸)