#the black fireproofs bring out something in me

[all-good-all-ways]

need him in ways that will alter my life forever

[spiderbeam]

pairing: photographer!reader x lando norris

a/n: based on this moodboard i made a while ago + i wanted to write something for lando’s win <3

“Let’s get a picture of you with the trophy.”

The floral and citrusy scent of champagne feels heavy inside the McLaren Motorhome—not that you mind. You’ve long since learned to associate the smell of champagne with the warm feeling of a well-deserved victory.

And today, no one shines brighter than Lando does. There’s still champagne dripping from his hair in scattered droplets, curls peeking at odd angles with his recent mullet, his fireproofs haphazardly tied around his waist. He can’t seem to temper down his grin—you’ve noticed him trying as you snap more pictures of him with his trophy. He holds it over his shoulder with beaming pride. P1. Another win under his belt, and you couldn’t be happier.

Well…

You click your tongue as you check the pictures you’ve taken so far. They’re not bad, per se. You don’t think it’s an easy task to take a bad picture of Lando. But it’s his second win. You don’t want him to just have an okay picture. You want him to have the perfect one—and you wanna be the one to give it to him.

You purse your lips together, the pictures you’ve taken of him thus far flashing across the small screen of your camera.

You hear Lando lower his trophy. “Something wrong?”

“Uh, no, no, just…” It takes you a second to place why the photos you’re taking of him feel off. You furrow your brows, bringing your camera closer to you as you zoom in on Lando’s face. The angle that he’s looking at feels awkward. He’s not looking into the lens—which would work, if it weren’t for the fact that he seems to be looking somewhere slightly above it.

“What’re you looking for?” Lando asks, nudging his shoulder against yours. Sparkling wine overwhelms your senses. You’ve been working as a photographer for McLaren for nearly as long as Oscar’s been a part of the team. Nearly two entire seasons of working closely with both drivers. You like to think you have a good enough relationship with both Oscar and Lando that you aren’t required to sugarcoat and gentle-parent your suggestions and critiques.

You angle your camera towards Lando, who ducks his head to see what you’re pointing at. “See how you’re looking over the lens?” You tap your screen over one of the pictures. Lando nods, straightening as you shrug. “I don’t know… I feel like we can do better.”

“Okay, yeah, definitely.” There’s a faint pink hue to his cheeks that you can’t help but find endearing, even if it’s only from the post-race high.

Lando gets back into place, picking up his trophy with one swift motion. You manage to snap two pictures of him grinning and one that’s more on the serious side before his eyes drift sideways, as if trying to find you past the lens.

You lower your camera. “Lando,” you say, like a reprimand—or, more accurately, a reminder.

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Is that my jumper?”

Heat crawls up your cheeks. “What?” You blink down at your clothes. It’s not his hoodie—and the momentary panic that buzzed beneath your skin is completely baseless. After all, you don’t have any reasons to be wearing his clothes. You feel a swarm of butterflies fluttering their wings in your stomach. A beat. You shake yourself out of your stupor with a flustered laugh. “O-Oh, you mean your merch.”

“Yeah,” he says, and his voice sounds slightly breathless. His green eyes linger on the cloud-colored hoodie you’re wearing, his tiny LN logo embroidered in black in the upper right corner.

Lando clears his throat. “Y’know, you could’ve asked me—I’d have gladly sent you some.” He gives you a bashful closed-lipped smile that makes your stomach twist. “You didn’t have to buy it.”

You inspect the hoodie you recall buying a few races ago. “I guess so,” you concede. You meet Lando’s gaze with a teasing smile as you adjust your camera back into place. “But I think I like supporting my favorite driver.”

Your camera flashes, and Lando’s grin is even brighter than before. The photo appears near instantly after you lower your camera. You roll your bottom lip between your teeth. Even if the McLaren social media team doesn’t choose to post it, you decide this one is your favorite picture of him.

Eyes crinkling at the corners. His beaming grin. There’s a glint in his gaze that makes you want to save the picture for yourself.

“I’m your favorite driver?”

You exhale, struggling to hide your matching grin. “Not a word to Oscar.”

You position your camera back up. You snap another picture, and Lando looks unbelievably giddy.

“Mhm,” Lando hums with an eager nod, biting down his smile as he poses for you once again. “Not a word.”

a/n: this was supposed to be out much earlier but between uni and the whole logan/franco news this was very much forgotten……. anyway shoutout to viv who suggested i do a drabble on the photographer!reader moodboard i made a while ago !!!!!

as always, reblogs and comments are really really appreciated <3

[vivwritesfics]

I'm Having Your Baby

It's None Of Your Business

It was supposed to just be a one night stand. It wasn't supposed to be anything more. But three positive pregnancy tests later and she realises she's fucked.

(I actually don't like Harry Styles)

Warnings: smut, mention of abortion

The bass was thumping, the music blasting and the lights flying in the club. She was letting loose, shaking her hips in time to the music. She was the envy of everybody in the club.

He was across the dance floor, sat in one of the booths lining the wall. In his hands was a jack and coke, the ice in his glass almost completely melted. Although he was on the other side of the club, he could still see her. Actually, he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Something about her drew him closer. He wove his way through the crowds of people until he was standing in front of her, hands of her gyrating hips. Wordlessly she wrapped her arms around his neck and moved her body along with his.

He knew he had to have her. Carlos kissed her that night. He pulled her close as he pressed his lips to her. Before long his tongue was down her throat and they had forgotten about dancing.

She ended up at his place that night. He laid her down in his bed and stripped off her clothes. She shivered in the cool air of his bedroom, but it wasn't long before his warm, naked body was on top of hers, thrusting into her, bring wave after wave of pleasure.

He rolled his hips against her, setting his pace according to his moan. He was completely focused on bringing her pleasure again and again.

Nobody had ever fucked her like that before. No single man had ever made her cum that many times.

But still, she was out of his bed, out of his house before he woke up, never to see him again.

The pregnancy test was taken three and a half weeks later. At 25 days she realised she had missed her period. It wasn't worrying until she remembered her counter in the club.

But she never expected it to come up positive. It must have been a fluke she realised. There was no way she was actually pregnant. Not after a single occurrence of unprotected sex.

But then she took another test. And then another. They all came up positive. Fuck, she really was pregnant. And she didn't even know the name of the father.

Actually, it was pretty easy to find out the name of the father. Her little brother was into Formula One, and she recognised him the moment he walked onto the screen.

She hadn't told her family of her pregnancy yet, and she wouldn't, not until she absolutely had to. She hid her pregnancy tests in her apartment and headed off to spend time with them.

It was a Sunday, so of course her brother was watching Formula One while her mother prepared Sunday night dinner. She was sat behind her brother, sipping lemonade as the driver's on the screen were interviewed.

The camera slowly panned across the Ferrari garage. Her glass dropped out of her hand, shattering on the floor. "What the hell?" Her brother shrieked as he stood up, avoiding the smashed glass.

"Who is that?" She asked as she pointed to the number 55 driver. He looked just as he did all those weeks ago, somehow better in his black fireproofs and red overalls.

Her brother gave her a frown. "That? That's Carlos Sainz, but why do you care?"

But she had already disappeared into the bathroom to throw up until she was dry heaving. Her baby daddy was Carlos Sainz, the world famous Ferrari driver.

It took her a moment to calm down. When she did, she opened her Instagram and went to his account. She scrolled through his account, as if to make sure it was definitely him. But it was undeniable.

It was a gamble going into his messages. But she had to do something to get his attention, had to let him know what was going on. If he didn't see it then so be it, she didn't need him to raise their baby.

Hi, you might not remember me but we hooked up a month ago. We met in the club and I was wearing a red dress with converse. Well, I'm pregnant.

She sent the message and walked out of the bathroom. The glass had been cleaned up from the living room floor and her family were already sat around the dinner table, the race on in the background. Her legs shook as she joined them.

"Is everything okay, dear?" Her mother asked and she nodded her head. She'd tell them, but not today.

Three days later Carlos Sainz messaged her on Instagram. She couldn't quite believe it when she woke up to that notification.

I remember

That was all he said. It was disappointing, actually. Where did she go from here?

Carlos Sainz said nothing more to her, not until a few months later. She got on with her life while their child grew inside of her, and he got on with his.

Or she assumed he did, at least. Actually, Carlos hadn't stopped thinking about it. It was distracting him from racing and training, and stopping him from eating and drinking.

He remembered her from the club, remembered fucking her. Remembered the way his cock slipped through her velvety folds.

It was one night, it couldn't have been his, right?

After four months of needless stress, Carlos finally messaged her again.

I'm sorry to do this but I need you to prove it to me

No, it was fair enough. She grabbed her pregnancy tests, stood in front of her mirror with her bump exposed. That was the picture she sent to Carlos. That was the picture that made him realise that he really was going to be a father.

Fuck. A new wave of stress rolled through him. What was he supposed to do now?

Are you keeping it?

Yes, she texted back. Yes, I'm keeping it

That wasn't the answer that Carlos wanted to see. He was going to be a father and he really didn't want to.

I want nothing to do with it

She sucked in a breath. Fine, she didn't need him. They didn't need him. But still she accepted Carlos' request on Instagram.

Something in her still wanted his attention. As soon as she could, and for as little money as possible, she booked tickets to the next grand prix.

It was hot, swelteringly so. She was dressed in a tight fitting shirt and shorts that showed off her bump. Her parents paid for paddock passes and she spent as long as she could walking in front of the Ferrari garage.

Carlos noticed her, but not right away. It was a minute before he regnised her. But then he was Marching over to her. "What're you doing here?" He hissed as he pulled her away from prying eyes.

She swallowed thickly. "I..." but she had nothing prepared to say to him, no excuse. She'd hoped him just seeing her bump would change his mind.

But it remained unchanged.

"I'm here with my girlfriend. You can't be here," he said. He hadn’t looked at her bump, not yet. "Get out of here," he hissed.

But she stepped up to him. "I'm having your baby, Carlos."

"It's none of my business." He turned on his heel and walked away.

[anchorandrope]

happy pride to my hands your hands tied up like two ships i don't care what people say when we're together oh i will carry over fire and water for your love the script was written and i could not change a thing i said hey it's alright if it makes you feel alive and every jaw drops when she's in those jeans there will always be the kind that criticize but i know yes i know we'll be alright so i built you a house from a broken home i'm all yours i've got no control no control it's been so long it's been so long maybe we're fireproof used to sing about being free but now he's changed his mind if you like to do the things you know that we shouldn't do then baby i'm perfect the priest thinks it's the devil my mum thinks it's the flu but girl it's only you for your eyes only i'll show you my heart the summertime and butterflies all belong to your creation so many nights i thought it over told myself i kinda like her but there was something missing in her eyes same lips red same eyes blue same white shirt couple more tattoos wherever i go you bring me home in a black dress she's such an actress yeah so you can cut me up and kiss me harder you can be the pill to ease the pain im just like you if you only knew now i'm asking my friends how to say i'm sorry they say lad give it time there's no need to worry i know that you're scared because i'm so open breathe me in breathe me out i don't know if i could ever go without i get so lost inside your eyes would you believe it? so bright sometimes shine i'm not ever going back don't blame me for falling i was just a little boy i couldn't want you anymore kiss in the kitchen like it's a dance floor staring at the ceiling two weeks and i'll be home we were only kids just tryna work it out wonder what they'd think if they could see us now i've been looking back a lot lately me and you is all i ever know and it's been ages different stages come so far from princess park waiting to wrap your legs around me and i know you hate to smoke without me cause you're the only one when it's said and done and i'm too tired to be tough just wanna be loved by you it's a church of brunt romances and i'm too far gone to pray in a strange way we're all in this together been this way forever you're not the only one but i'd follow you to any place if it's hollywood or bishopsgate i'm coming too if i was a bluebird i would fly to you stay green a little while you bring blue lights to dreams do you think i'm cool too? or am i too into you? maple syrup coffee pancakes for two you lay with him as you stay in the daydream you feel a fool you're back at it again i take you with me every time i go away in a hotel usin' someone else's name when we're finished saying nothing can we please get back to lovin'? i don't wanna face the music but i still wanna dance with you but the friends we make the love it takes is worth is worth is worth it all the time my heart might be broken but i won't be broken down you and me until the end wakin' up to start again fabricated fairytales bring a new world to life there were problems in this empty bottle at the bottom but we drained all that you should be startin' at the sky the birds just passin' by love spent my whole life thinking i had to change

[inspo]

[nicbutnasty]

💛 gewis!!

Hello, thank you! And apologies for how long it took me to write ths one, but we got there in the end.

💛 reunion kiss/relief for George/Lewis | G | ~1K words

note: contains brief description of a fictional crash. George is mostly unharmed

It wasn’t a bad crash, all things considered. But still, Lewis can’t deny that his heart was in his mouth when the message came through on the radio. Car 63 in the barriers, DNF. George. That was over an hour ago now.

He would have been checked over by the medics and debriefed since then—nothing more than a few bruises and feeling a bit shaken up, supposedly—but Lewis needs to see for himself. Being a supportive teammate means offering comfort where he can, but maybe selfishly he needs to prove to himself that George is unharmed, to stop the way his heart kicks in his chest every time he thinks about it.

George would have done his own post-race interviews whilst the rest of them were still on track—Lewis knows how these things work by now—so as soon as he can extract himself from his own media duties, he finds himself standing outside George’s driver’s room. 

The door is slightly ajar, so Lewis knocks once and tentatively pushes it open. George is perched awkwardly there on the black vinyl sofa, as if a stranger in his own room. He looks so much smaller than he did in front of the crowds earlier that day, his lithe frame contorted into a protective curl, all elbows and knees, head in his hands. Something in Lewis’ heart clenches in sympathy at the sight. 

“Hey, George?” Lewis calls softly.

Wordlessly, George looks up, his eyes red-rimmed and watery.

Lewis crosses the room in a few strides, carefully sits next to him on the sofa. Now he’s closer, he can see George is trembling slightly, hear his breath coming out in quiet shudders. He gently wraps an arm around George, hoping for comfort rather than scaring him off.

He shouldn’t have worried, because George immediately leans into it, turning his head so his face is buried in Lewis’ shoulder. His fireproofs are probably all damp and sweaty, but George doesn’t seem to mind, just clings to Lewis like  a lifeline as his shuddering breaths turn to sharp, choking gasps. Lewis clutches him tightly, all the worry he’d pushed down in order to complete the race now bubbling up with the relief of having George here in his arms. 

Lewis rubs calming circles on George’s back, bringing his other hand to the nape of George’s neck to run his fingers through the soft hair there. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, “It’s okay Georgie, baby, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

Slowly George’s breathing begins to even out. Lewis continues to hold him, stroking his back and murmuring soft nothings to him, until George suddenly pulls away with a jolt.

“I’m– I’m sorry,” he stammers out, scrubbing his face with his hands, “You shouldn’t have to–”

Lewis catches his hands and gently pulls them into George’s lap, where they flutter momentarily like a captive bird before stilling. George keeps his eyes lowered, body hunched over, as if ashamed.

“But I want to,” Lewis interrupts softly. He absently brushes his thumbs over the inside of George’s wrists, where the delicate veins show in blues and greens through the skin, a tangible reminder that George is alive and unharmed. Lewis takes a steadying breath. “Oh George,” he sighs fondly, “when I heard, I was so worried. I wanted to make sure you were okay, see if I could help.”

George finally looks up at him with his big wet eyes, lashes clumped together with tears. Lewis thinks he’s never looked so beautiful. “But why?” he asks.

“Because I care about you, man.” George doesn’t look convinced, so Lewis continues, “I do, I swear. Not just because we’re teammates or whatever, but because you’re you. You’re incredible, man, and every day I swear to god I’m thankful I know you. You’re talented, you’re kind-hearted, and you’re beautiful, and I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you in my life, but I–” He feels a lump in his own throat, huffs out a wet sort of laugh, “Well, I’m not questioning it.”

Lewis releases George’s wrists to cradle his face in his hands, thumbing away an errant tear. George’s eyes have gone wide and glassy now, cheeks flushed and mouth parted slightly, as if stunned Lewis could even think about him that way. Well, he can’t have that, can he?

Lewis leans in slightly, hoping he’s not crossing a line. But George, sweet George, always there to meet him where he’s at, follows his lead, his eyelids fluttering shut.

The kiss is tentative at first, George yielding easily. Lewis can taste the salt of shed tears on his lips, licks at the seam of them and George opens easily, malleable under Lewis’ careful attention. He gasps into the kiss as Lewis sucks at his lower lip, one hand coming up to fist in Lewis’ shirt. Lewis likes George like this, he thinks. Open, expressive, not afraid to show what he needs. 

Lewis pulls back slightly and George automatically chases him, swaying towards Lewis, lips parted. His eyes flutter open in momentary confusion and Lewis can feel him tense slightly, as if preparing for rejection.

Whatever he sees in Lewis’ face must reassure him though, as George settles back into his arms. 

“Hello,” Lewis murmurs.

“Hi,” George breathes. His lips are kiss-swollen and he’s flushed pink from cheeks down below the neckline of his shirt. Lewis idly wonders how far that flush extends.

A loud thunk from outside breaks the moment, followed by laughter and good-natured jeers of the pit crew. Beyond the room, the whole paddock is packing up and shipping out for the next race. As lovely as it is right here together on George’s tiny vinyl sofa, they can’t stay. 

Lewis pushes himself up off the sofa with a soft groan, extending a hand to George. “Come on, let’s get you back to the hotel and in your pyjamas.”

George takes his hand but remains sitting for a moment, looking up at Lewis with something akin to hope in his eyes. “Will you– will you stay?” he asks.

Lewis laughs softly. “Yes, of course I will,” he reassures, giving George’s hand a tug for good measure. 

This time, George goes willingly, keeping Lewis’ hand clutched tightly in his, whilst he reaches for his bag with the other. 

There’s the early morning flight back home tomorrow, a couple days to rest, then straight back on the plane to the hustle and bustle of the next race, the next country. But tonight, in the comfort of George’s clean hotel sheets, they’ve got all the time in the world.

[clickoly]

O'Knutzy Week - Day 2

Part II of Starboys, a Cubs Formula One AU

Characters by @lumosinlove, for @oknutzy-week-2024

Prompts: Changes, Racing

Links to: Part I, Ao3

Here comes Nutter Butter 🌻

•••

Endless weekend on a wave 

FormulaNews24 @formulanews24 (1d)

Eyes on the track as we witness history in the making! Silver Racing unveils a new bold addition to Tremblay's strategy team. Meet 22 year old Leo Knut, the youngest race engineer in F1 history. 

#ItalianGP #SilverRacing #LT10

"Loops!" Finn shouted. His curious eyes darted over the picture of a smiling blond man on the X For You page.

Qualifying was about to start and Finn was killing time, trying to calm his nerves before jumping into the car. 

The fireproof undershirt felt suffocating, and his cherry red racing suit lay unfastened and loose around his hips, in a hopeless attempt to beat the sweltering heat. 

Finn locked the phone's screen and pulled up from the desk he was leaning on, scanning the noisy garage. Remus was sitting on a stool, one leg shaking nervously on the footrest, lips pinched between long, bitten fingers. His full attention was caught between too many monitors at once.  

"Loops." Finn moved closer. 

Remus didn't bother to acknowledge him, he just pointed to a sheet of data on screen. "Here," he said. "You're braking too early over there, before the chicane."

"By how many–"

"Two hundredths," Remus was always one step ahead. "I've been up all night studying the numbers, Harz," he turned to him, looking resolute. "This is your only chance to get the pole." 

Finn blew out a long, deep sigh. "I know it is." 

"And I know you can do it." 

Can I ? Finn couldn't help but wonder. 

"Aw, Loops," he cooed instead. "You're gonna make me cry." 

Remus just shook his head affectionately. 

Starting from the front row on Sunday wouldn’t be enough. Finn wanted the pole position. But weighing down the load of an emotionally tough week were the expectations of too many people he couldn't disappoint. It was the Scuderia's home race, after all, and all eyes were on him and his teammate Kasey. 

Right now, however, Finn couldn't bring himself to think about numbers, times, and strategies. Together with his team, he had discussed all the details a hundred times that morning, right after the third and final free practice session. Because Logan had set the fastest lap. 

Finn knew exactly what to do and how to do it. He just wished he could escape that oppressive weight on his shoulders, the intrusive fear of failing—a bitter consequence of the events of the past week.

So he dared a topic switch, if only to avoid giving himself and his concerns away. 

"Hey, where's Black?" He asked casually. 

Remus eyed him suspiciously. "How should I know?" 

"I understand that you want to be professional," Finn arched one of his dark red eyebrows. "You know, being friends with the enemy," he pretended to whisper. "But honestly, you two are as thick as thieves." 

The veil of pink that brushed Remus' pale cheeks betrayed him. "You're the one to talk," he grumbled back, then pretended to check the time. "Green light in five, Harz. Go get ready." 

"You're no fun, you know that, right?" 

"Yeah? Want to trade me for your bff' s new race engineer?" Remus' grin was teasing. 

"No need to get defensive," Finn scoffed indignantly. "And that's why I asked about Sirius, by the way." 

"Meaning?" 

"I'm curious," Finn shrugged. "I thought he might have told you something about their new acquisition." 

Remus went back to the screens. "He didn't say much. Just that Knut's young and talented. But rumor has it he's a real hothead."

"Well," a familiar voice chimed into the conversation. "He sure is hot." 

A sharp elbow hit Finn's waist and he found himself shoulder to shoulder with a smirking Natalie Darcy.

"What's up Loops?" 

"Hey Nat," Remus laughed. 

"What?" Finn asked, confused by her amused face. 

"Were you blushing, O'Hara?" 

"No. I... I'm," Finn stuttered. "What? I wasn't blushing." 

"If you say so," she smiled smugly. "Sorry to interrupt, guys, but I need Freckle here," she gestured toward Finn with the camera in her hands. "Gotta get some shots for the qualy posts." 

"Better do that in the car," Remus suggested. "Harz, radio check in two minutes." 

"Copy," Finn nodded, then spun on his heels to go grab the rest of his equipment. 

"We should do another close-up with the helmet on," Natalie offered as Finn stepped into the car. "Fans go crazy for those big eyes, you know?" 

"Yeah?" Finn tried to act casual as Natalie nimbly captured his movements from different angles. 

"Yep," she twisted the lens again with a smooth flick of her wrist. "But I prefer Kasey's." 

"Of course you do," he chuckled, then finally pulled down the visor. "Wish me luck," he said louder as the engine roared to life. 

Natalie patted his helmet. "You won't need it."

–

There had always been a moment before a race when Logan would simply close his eyes and breathe deeply. A peaceful silence would permeate his mind, leaving out the deafening noise of twenty rumbling engines ready to run, and the roaring crowd, ecstatic and impatient for some action. It was a much-needed release to make room for concentration and nothing else, right before the emotional rush that washed over him every time the countdown began.

That Sunday, Logan was starting from P2. To his left, perfectly positioned on the first grid slot, was Finn's car. The crimson livery shone brightly in the few rays of a timid sun. The pattern of red and yellow lines on Finn's glossy black helmet, partially hidden behind the halo, reflected the afternoon light perfectly, drawing a slightly curving 17 on top of his head. 

Logan had tried to be mad about it. He'd wanted the pole, he'd put in a fantastic lap, and yet Finn had overqualified him by three hundredths of a second. He'd really meant to be upset, if only for the sake of appearances. But as soon as they'd climbed out of their cars, sweaty and out of breath, the glow that had brightened Finn's face at the crowd's loud cheers had instantly tamed Logan's furor.

On the other hand, the hint of disappointment in Leo’s voice had also been a hard pill to swallow. I’m sorry , he’d said over the radio at the end of the Q3 session, as if it had been his fault. But Leo had done a perfect job. He’d been confident and meticulous, showing his professionalism to everyone in the pit wall, and to Logan as well. He didn’t want Leo to feel guilty about that. Sharing the front row with Finn was a good starting point for a thrilling battle for the win. 

Still, Logan understood his concerns and the impulsive urge to prove that he was worthy of the responsibility he’d been given, despite his young age and all the rumors that had made their way to the paddock. 

Now, feet ready on the pedals and hands tight on the steering wheel, where gloved fingers brushed over the shift paddles, Logan looked out at the clear track in front of him and felt the first wave of adrenaline run down his spine. 

"Mode A on," Leo’s voice came through the earbuds. "Lights out in thirty seconds." 

"Let’s bring this home, Nut," Logan grinned to himself. "And tonight we're going to celebrate together." 

The next second, his eyes were locked on the starting gantry, intent and alert. Somewhere near the end of the pit lane, the hand of a clock marked two o'clock, and the five lights ahead of him began to turn on in sequence.

One.

Two. Breathe.

Three. Focus.

Four.

Five. 

It’s lights out and away we go here in Monza! Amazing reaction time for both men in Red, with Logan Tremblay still in between, contending the lead with O’Hara and Winter down to turn one. Here comes O’Hara first, then Tremblay, and James Potter goes to the inside, but Winter has the power to hang on to third position, as they all make their way through the first chicane. 

It wasn't until Turn 3 that Leo realized he was holding his breath, caught in his dry throat. He scanned the monitor, looking for anomalies, the back of his pen clicking insistently on the full page of notes in his journal. Everything seemed fine. 

The live feed showed Logan darting away from Kasey and rushing behind Finn, waiting for the best chance to overtake him.

"You all right, Knutty?"

Leo lowered one of the earpieces of his headset and faced Sirius, nodding briefly and giving him a polite smile.

"Good, you're doing great," Sirius smiled back, and once again Leo couldn't believe his luck. 

How many times he'd imagined this exact moment, he couldn't say. Late, sleepless nights spent over books. Endless days of training, split between work at the factory and research for his thesis. Leaving New Orleans, his family and friends, and moving to England to fulfill his dream. It all finally made sense, because this was where he was meant to be. 

He could be grateful for all the risks he'd taken, all the sacrifices he'd made. And on top of that, he'd been assigned to Logan, Silver Racing's star driver, to assist him in one of the greatest battles for the world championship ever witnessed.

Leo reached for the radio console with one hand and held the boom microphone to his mouth with the other as he spoke. "DRS is enabled," he told Logan. "Right now you're 0.4 behind."

Logan's voice came back scratchy, slightly static. "I'm trying," he panted. "He's too fast."  

As a fan of the sport, Leo had followed both of them throughout their careers. Finn was an incredibly gifted driver, and Leo remembered the struggle of the past few years, trying to get the best out of a very problematic car that had allowed him only a few wins. Logan was just as skilled, born to speed through tight corners and sharp hairpins. Lucky to drive an exceptionally fast car that had rarely been beaten in recent seasons.

Watching them race against each other had always been astonishing, an emotional experience like admiring a masterpiece of art. So it shouldn't have surprised Leo to see them battling for the lead, showing off technical offensive and defensive moves that were driving the crowd crazy.

Until something unexpected happened just before the start of lap thirty-five.

"Shit, look at that," Sirius nudged him, pointing to his laptop.

Leo watched as the track map on screen slowly filled with patches of different shades of blue.

"Heavy rain expected in ten minutes," he heard Sirius tell James over the radio, before looking back at him expectantly. It was then that Leo noticed the dark clouds approaching rapidly with the increasing force of the wind. 

A strategy. They needed a new, effective strategy. Quickly.

"Finn has fresh medium tires," Leo began, twiddling the pen between his long fingers as he spoke. "They're going to pit Kasey first, 'cause he won't have any grip for a full lap with washed hards."

Sirius kept humming as he followed his train of thought.

"And they might be expecting a red flag, or maybe a safety car if someone slides off the track. But if we call Logan in for inters as soon as it starts raining harder..."

"What if they don't want to wait?" Sirius said. 

"We'll pit him anyway, just follow plan A. Same strategy as the leader," Leo explained. "But if we manage to get Logan in before Finn, he could easily end up leading the race."

Sirius rubbed a hand over his dark stubble, his icy grey eyes telling Leo he was thinking a mile a minute. "Okay," he breathed. "But James is coming in with him."

Leo nodded. "It's going to be chaotic, but it'll work out."

Please, I need this to work out.

At the other end of the pit lane, the mechanics rushed to grab two sets of new intermediate tires. Then they took their positions in the pit stall, helmets on, ready to spring into action.

Leo felt the smell of rain first, the strong scent that the contact with the hot asphalt released. He spun around in his chair to hold a flat palm over the canopy, where a gentle drizzle wet his hand, the intensity increasing by the second.

He locked eyes with Sirius again as they silently agreed to proceed with their plan. A single, confident nod was all he needed.

"Box, box," Leo chanted over the radio.

"What? Already?" Logan protested.

"Yes," he insisted. "Please Logan, confirm the pit stop."

Now, this is unusual. Silver is calling both of their drivers to box on this lap. That's Tremblay coming into the pits, followed by Kasey Winter and, wow, it's getting crowded out there. It's going to be a real mess with the intensity of this rain. 

O’Hara stays out, and with a quick look at the data I can tell you he’s slowing down considerably to keep the car on track. 

With a 2.2 second pit stop Logan Tremblay leads the way out of the pit lane, Winter and Potter on his tail. And isn't that brilliant? They're coming back right behind the nine cars being called to pit right now! 

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new race leader. 

The whole grid held out for eighteen laps in wet conditions, and despite the downpour, Logan managed to gain a considerable advantage over the others. Finn made his comeback to second place, overtaking car after car in almost zero visibility—a true racing masterclass that had sent a thrill up Leo's spine.

But Finn couldn't reach Logan, too far away, now engaged in navigating the infamous high-speed parabola just a few meters from the checkered flag. 

"Leo," Logan shouted into his ears. He could picture some kind of delirious grin on Logan's lips just from his voice.

And wasn't Leo delirious himself.

He stared, heart in his throat, as the GPS signal of Logan's car crossed the finish line. Only then did he realize what had just happened.

Leo didn't know what face he was making when Sirius clapped a strong hand on his back. His smile was euphoric, so wide it began to hurt a little in the corners. But he held himself still, enough to look composed if a camera caught him.

"Well done, Logan." He smiled into the mic. The radio message would certainly have been broadcast on tv. "A well-deserved win. You did a fantastic job today."

"I want you on the podium," was Logan's reply, a little breathless. Leo swore he could faint right then and there. "This one is yours as well." 

If this was a dream, Leo didn't want to wake up, ever .

Sirius had dragged him to the cool down room to wait for the top three drivers before the podium ceremony. He'd also insisted that Leo should be the team representative to accept the trophy for their victory. And as if that wasn't enough, Leo's mind was blown the second he spotted Logan and Finn walking together to their assigned posts, soaked from head to toe—their hair a complete mess from the helmets.

"Looks like I have a new nemesis," Finn greeted him with a teasing wink.

"Oh, you better be careful out there," Leo bit back, unable to stop himself from giggling when Logan rolled his eyes—a shade of green that stood out perfectly against his black racing suit.

"Not tonight," Logan said. "Tonight we're having fun."

"Yeah?" Finn sounded surprised. “What are you up to, Tremblay?”

Logan looked mischievously between them. "You're going to find out. Hey, Bliz," he turned to Kasey, who was busy chugging a bottle of water in one go. "You with us?"

"Sorry, guys," he panted a little, then smiled. "I promised a date to a fancy Italian restaurant."

"And you? What do you say?" Logan playfully shoved Leo. As if he could ever say no to something like that.

"Sounds fun." He crossed his arms over his chest, a mocking grin on his lips. "But wherever we're going, I am driving."

"No way," Finn and Logan chorused back, and a carefree laugh broke out of Leo's chest. He felt blissful.

And maybe it wasn't, but this all felt like a crazy dream.

[words-are-fireproof]

Souls Heal Less Readily (Javier Pena x fem!reader)

*gif by @azertyrobaz

Summary: Javier keeps it together long enough to see you, but when he finally lets you touch him, he lets go of that carefully curated control.

Rating: T

Length: almost 2.1k

A/N: So, I have @pedrito-friskito to blame for this one. She said, and I quote: "I feel like if you tried to hug him after this he'd try to be all manly and tough and gruff and "no don't touch me it's fine" and then if you persisted and were just like no he'd eventually just break down in your arms" and that's where this came from.

This is my first full length reader fic. It's not that great, but I like it ish. lol I'll let y'all be the judge.

This also might, uh, end up being more than one part. We'll see what NaNo brings me.

Edited to add: I don't do tag lists because I have a goldfish brain. Please follow @fireproof-library all my fics without the mess.

[Masterlist] || [Part Two]

-----

You weren’t expecting to see him that night. 

He’d told you before that he was going after some spotters, a bunch of kids who’d been conned into working for Pablo Escobar for one reason or another. You never questioned the motives of some people. You knew how hard it was to get money in Medellin. You knew how hard it was for people to make it there, how hard it was for families to get out when the drug war became violent and bloody. You never questioned kids who had known nothing but living on the streets, running around in gangs just trying to survive. 

But you did question the police.

You questioned the way they did things. Many nights were spent spitting vitriol when you knew all he wanted to do was drown in your body. Instead, you gave him grief. You didn’t question his motives. Out of all of them, he seemed to be the best one. He wanted to catch Escobar and minimize the damage. He knew what that hijo de puta was capable of. The bad thing was, everyone knew what Escobar was capable of, but corruption ran so rampant, there wasn’t much he could do. Besides, he was just a gringo. He looked the part and had the name, but his hands were tied. One man couldn’t fight the entire cartel machine. 

That didn’t stop him from trying. 

You’d tried to tell him that he couldn’t keep doing this. You two never labeled whatever it was between you and you never questioned it. But you did like to think that maybe, just maybe, you had some semblance of say in what he did. You knew, though, that it was a fool’s errand. You couldn’t change his mind, it’d been set for far longer than you’d known him, far longer than you’d been alive, probably. He didn’t have anything else in his life. All he knew was this job. He had tunnel vision. You couldn’t blame him, but you wished he would listen. None of this would end well for him. You could see it now. If Escobar didn’t get him, someone or something would. 

When he showed up at your doorstep, impossibly still, hands shoved in his leather jacket, you knew Escobar was no longer the enemy you needed to worry the most about. Sure, the cartel leader had a hand in it, but this was something different, and it scared the shit out of you. 

“Javi, ” You began, your voice breathless and worried, “¿Qué pasó?” 

He shook his head and brushed past you. The balm in the air clung to that leather as it touched the bare skin of your arm. It should have felt warm. Why did it send chills down your spine? 

You shut the door behind him, watching him closely as he shucked the jacket off and hung it up on a coat rack balanced precariously outside the doorway to your kitchen. Everything about him appeared off. His dark eyes, always so warm when he was with you, looked hollow and haunted, the blacks of his pupils bleeding into the brown irises dangerously. The muscle in his jaw kept clenching, over and over again like he was forcing himself to keep calm. Maybe he was. Maybe that’s why his body wasn’t a flurry of movement. If he didn’t keep himself still, what would become collateral damage? 

“Javi,” you tried again, keeping your voice metered and quiet, just barely above a whisper. “What happened?” 

He sat down on the sofa underneath the window. His entire body slumped into the well-loved and broken-down cushions. The street lamp which shined in from the window cast his face in shadow. You wait for the penny to drop, the tension high in the small living room as you sit down on the small coffee table in front of him. He’s still incredibly still, body no longer keyed up with energy like normal and it sends spikes of anxiety through you. He’s never like this. Even on bad days when you know things have gone topsy turvy, he’s usually reaching for you. You never question it. You like when he reaches for you. You would rather he reach for you instead of someone else, but you don’t have much of a say in that. 

You have your vices and you know he does, too. Your vice is him. You don’t ask about his, but you already know. 

You lean forward, a tentative hand reaching for his jean clad knee. He moves his leg before you can touch him. A sharp pang of sadness shoots through you. You try not to think about it, but you can’t help it. He drowns in you and your body so readily. To starve you of your desire to help him makes you worry. It was so unlike him. You tried to hide the shake in your hand as you settled it back in your lap. Your eyes roam his face, searching for some sort of answer. 

It couldn’t be you, could it? You weren’t the one he was upset about, were you? You have your secrets just like he did, but he didn’t discover them inadvertently through the spotters. Surely he couldn’t have. You hid yourself well, and you knew that if he ever discovered who you really were and what you were really capable of, he would never come back to you. The fear of him discovering that shakes you to your very core, but still you sit. That coffee table bruising your tailbone the longer you stay sat there. You try not to show your discomfort. You don’t know what he would do if you tried to sit next to him. 

He’d move away from you, that’s what he would do. You don’t want that. You want him to seek you out. You want him to fill that hole that is beginning to form in your heart. It’s a hole being gnawed apart by anxiety and fear. 

You silently beg him to reach for you. Say something. Do something. You can’t sit there in silence any longer. The blood in your veins rushed like a freight train in your ears.

You always hated the silence. 

“Javi–”

“Fucking kids, man.” 

You feel your eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the sudden utterance of words. His voice sounds distant, rough with an emotion you can’t quite place, but it bites at you. It burrows under your skin and makes its home there. It does nothing for the gnawing, gaping hole that keeps getting bigger and bigger in your chest.

“The spotters were kids, si,” you begin slowly, somehow keeping your voice even and calm, “You told me that already, querida.” 

“They shouldn’t be involved.” 

“I know that. I know they shouldn’t be. But Javier…can you blame them?” 

His dark brown eyes flick sharply over to you, gazing at you with a cold hardness you’ve never seen before. “Are you making excuses for that fucking pendejo?” 

“You know I’m not. It’s just…some of them have no other choice. You know that. I know that.” 

He shook his head and raked his strong hand through his curling chocolate locks. “It doesn’t make it right.” 

“I know. It’s so unfair.” 

“It’s worse than unfair,” he said with a wavering voice. You felt your heart cracking in two. The sensation of yearning flooded your body. You found yourself praying to a God you weren’t sure existed. Please tell me what’s wrong. Please tell me what happened.

“Javier, ¿Qué pasó?” You asked again, taking the risk and sliding into the empty space beside him on the sofa. 

“You…don’t want to know, princesa.” 

You took a breath and scooted closer to him, laying a hand on his thigh to steady him. 

You squeeze his thigh gently, signaling that you’re there for him. You aren’t going anywhere. “Yes, I do.” 

For a breath of a pause, you wait. You expect him to come unglued. You expect him to pull away from your touch. You think a lot of things will happen, but instead, you feel his breath shuddering through him, ragged and tattered. And suddenly, he’s turning into your chest and burying his face there. His warm tears soak through the thin shirt you pulled on hastily before his arrival. 

The emotions surprise you. In all the years you’ve known him–ever since he arrived in Medellin–you’ve never known him to show emotions like this. He blew off steam by bending you over and claiming you as his until you couldn’t breathe or move, your muscles sore for days afterward because of his voraciousness. You never complained. You liked it. He was good at it, and in those moments, he showed you a vulnerability you never saw at any other time.

Until now. 

Without a second thought, you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and tug him impossibly closer to your body, sliding into the solid expanse of his lap and settling there in the hopes that your weight would ground him. The progress of his arms around your midsection was slow, but he eventually wrapped his arms around you, locking his fingers on your hip and tugging you so close, you swear you could feel his heartbeat against your side. Your hand buries itself into his thick, dark hair, caressing gently as he lets go of his carefully curated control. His shoulders shake in you grasp and he lets them. Tears continue to soak into your chest. 

There’s nothing you want to say to him to quell his overflow of emotions. You don’t want to break the tension. You don’t want him to begin rebuilding those walls. Besides, you think you know exactly what happened tonight and no amount of words can soothe that hurt. 

You don’t know how long you sit there on that thread bare couch, settled in his lap, a hand in his hair as you felt him break apart in your arms. But soon enough, his breathing evened out and your shirt began to dry as his tears stop flowing. He lifted his head from your chest to peer at you through red rimmed eyes, cheeks tear stained, his moustache damp and glistening. You gently brush your thumb over the wiry hairs to swipe away the dampness there. 

“Lo siento, princesa,” he said, his voice rough with emotions. 

“Why are you apologizing, Javi?” 

A dry mirthless chuckle escaped his lips. “You didn’t expect me to cry all over you tonight.” 

You shook your head. “I didn’t, but it’s okay. You needed it.” 

He fell quiet for a moment, thumbs brushing over your hip where his hand is settled. “Thank you for not asking.” 

“Shh.” You settle a finger on his lips to silence him. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready. Or maybe you won’t. That’s okay, too.” 

Javier pressed the tiniest of kisses on your finger and you can’t help but duck your head into a cutesy little smile, sure your cheeks are painting pink at the little gesture. 

“How was your day today?” 

You shrug elaborately, still caressing his hair gingerly. “It was okay.” 

“Just okay?” 

You couldn’t tell him how it really went. You didn’t want to make him angry. He’d been through enough and right now, the only thing you wanted to do was make him feel better. Maybe one day you’d tell him. Maybe you wouldn’t. Maybe he’d find out in the most inoportune way. Whatever the case, you weren’t going to tell him now. 

“Yeah, just okay.” You pressed a little kiss to the crease between his eyebrows. When you pulled back, the crease was gone, smoothed by your lips and your calm demeanor. “Do you want anything to drink?” 

He shook his head and tugged you closer. “Not right now, princesa.” 

Silence enveloped you both. The sounds of the city outside your window sounded faint and weak. You tried to ignore them, but you still heard the distant pops of far away bullets, the ever present reminder of the drug war you both were ensconced in. His body jolted at the gunshots, his hands digging into the firm curve of your hip so hard you were sure you would bruise. You let him bruise you. Bodies healed. Souls did so less readily. 

And you were quite certain you would do more than bruise his soul soon enough.

[iguessricciardo]

Not to be horny on main but if danny does make it back into an rb seat, cld they bring back the white fireproofs under the blue suits cause god that does something to me. idk what it is but the white fireproofs are so hot on him. It's a pity alpha tauri has a full white suit so it doesn't hit quite as hard but something abt the little bit of the white fireproofs peaking out of the blue suits back in day is so goddamn sexy I can't explain.

Sorry if this comes out of the blue but the thoughts have been stuck in my head since Nashville and I just had to share.

i will always be a black fireproofs girlie BUT the redbull white ones ate big time!!! i wouldn’t mind the dark blue ones either tbh, they look so good on him

[peachyjinx]

Holding Back [Loki Laufeyson x Female Reader]

Relationship: Loki x Female Reader

Chapter 2

Summary: You are a new mutant recruit in training with the Avengers, and Loki is brought in to teach you how to use your powers.

Note: Reader is horny and has no problems entertaining the idea of sleeping with multiple Avengers (haven't we all?).

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, eventual smut in chapter 6

~~~~~~

Chapter 2:

The Teacher

Word count: 3,229

Summary: You meet Loki and begin training with him. Surprisingly, he's a great teacher- but you're having trouble focusing when you're also incredibly attracted to him.

Warning: Nothing serious, just some flirtin' and thirstin'

You had spent way too long this morning picking out what to wear, trying to make sure you didn't appear to be a weak mortal in front of Loki. You just had a feeling he'd be way less warm than his brother, and you wanted to make your first impression count. So you opted for all black, with your hair in a tight bun.

You waited nervously in the lounge, as Loki and Thor were on their way up. You sat on the couch pretending to be engrossed in your phone, but you were mindlessly scrolling. Your mind wandered about Loki. What was he really like? Was he mad he'd have to come here and help you? Where is he coming from - does he live in New York?

You heard the ding, the elevator doors opened, and in walked Thor and Loki. Your eyes shot up to the elevators, and you quickly stood up and put your phone in your pocket.

Loki looked different than you anticipated. Very different. You had only seen him in video footage and pictures from the invasion, with his leathers and helmet. But today he wore a black suit fitted perfectly to his body, and had a distinct swagger as he strode towards you. He emanated confidence and regality. You could feel your heart race as the two Asgardian Princes walked towards you.

Thor greeted you and introduced you to Loki.

"Hello, lovely to meet you," Loki said, shaking your hand. His hand dwarves yours, and he was tall- taller than Thor? Maybe not, but his build made him look like it.

"Thanks for helping me, I'm not sure it's going to work, but I appreciate it," you said candidly, looking into his piercing blue eyes.

Loki grinned and replied, "Well how about I assess the situation and deem what is necessary?", winking at you.

You were taken aback and couldn't help but smile, and felt heat rise to your cheeks. He's nothing like what you expected- he was still intimidating, but more charming than you anticipated.

You and Thor proceeded with taking Loki on a tour of the gym and facilities. Loki's demeanor was aloof, yet comfortable. Loki had not spent much time in the Avengers tower, and asked a lot of questions. You appreciated that he was so interested, but also curious as to why. Did he want to be an Avenger one day? Was he jealous of them? Or was he just being polite?

"Here we are brother, the room you will be training in. It is fireproof, explosion proof, and waterproof. There are also androids you can bring in to train with," Thor explained as he walked with his arms up, showing off the room.

Thor pushed a button and a wall pulled out to reveal a large weapons stash. Loki's face lit up and he walked over to examine them.

"Oh brother, now I see why you waste your time with these mortals. They at least carry a formidable weapons stash". Thor laughed and you felt yourself smiling. Thor excitedly went through the various weapons with Loki.

You watched from a distance as the brothers discussed the weapons and their uses. Loki smiled and seemed to make a joke, making Thor laugh with his whole body. You drifted off for a minute, looking at Loki's beautiful black hair and how the curls played at the top of his shoulder. How tall and confident he stood. How gentle he was when handling a large dagger. He began miming attacking an opponent, and you could see how deadly he was with a blade. It was also kind of cute to see them get excited about something. Did you think Loki was cute?

Let's not go down that path, you thought to yourself.

You snapped out of your daydream when they had put the weapons stash away and Loki started walking in your direction. His long strides carried him gracefully towards you, his arms behind his back as he looked at you with a more serious look than moments before. As he stood next to you, he seemed to tower over you.

"So Y/N, do tell me about your powers. Could you demonstrate them for me?", He asked pointedly.

"Oh. Yea, sure", you cursed yourself for not being as well spoken as the Asgardian brothers. Why did you feel more nervous than normal?

Loki watched as you focused on creating a force field around your body. Surprisingly, you had no issues and it quickly appeared, a light bluish white light appearing around you. You continued to hold out your hands and looked at Loki to see his reaction.

Loki tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as he came closer to you.

"Hmm, this is curious. Do you know how you're able to create this shield?", Loki asked.

"No, I just think about it and it happens. Well, the first time I did it, I didn't have to think, it was like my body did it on its own," you replied.

Loki nodded as he listened and circled around you, looking you up and down with curiosity. You looked at Thor, who now had his arms crossed and watched the two of you interact. Loki touched the force field, and felt its solid state. A grin spread across his face as he looked at it contemplatively.

"Oh yes, this will be interesting to work with. How are you able to use these- what do you call them?"

"Force fields. Or shields,” you shrugged.

"Force fields- are they used primarily for the purposes of deflection?"

"Yes," you looked at him, puzzled by the question. Why else would you use a force field?

He stopped walking and stood in front of you, the smirk still on his face.

"Good, we will have a lot to work with then."

You let down your field and nodded. He seemed much less terrifying than you thought he'd be. Spending an hour a day with him, five days a week didn’t seem like it’d be too bad. You’d improve your skills, plus he was easy on the eyes.

After the three of you finished the tour, with Thor showing Loki where everything was, Loki decided it was time to leave. He turned to you, a neutral expression on his face.

"I will see you tomorrow, at 7 am. Do not be late, or there will be admonishment. You will find that I am a firm, but fair teacher."

"Loki speaks of his abilities to teach even though he has never done it!", chuckled Thor, punching him in the arm.

Loki shot him a look, then turned and focused on you again.

"If you have any questions, don't hesitate to reach out. Thor has my number, you can get it from him."

"Oh thanks, yea. I really appreciate you helping me, I look forward to working with you," you said with an awkward smile on your face.

Why are you being awkward?? Maybe if he wasn't so dashing and I had gotten laid in the last eight months I wouldn't be so awkward.

As Thor walked Loki back to the elevators, your mind wandered again to the last time you had had sex. It had been before you came to stay with the Avengers, and your need was growing.

You noticed you were staring at the back of both Thor and Loki's broad shoulders, and hummed to yourself. As soon as you heard yourself, you shook your head, suppressing your lust for the time being.

------

You arrived sharply at 7 am in your training room, nervous as hell. You didn’t know why, you had been training with the Avengers for months. Maybe because this was your last chance to prove yourself a worthy teammate. And the handsome teacher wasn’t helping with the nerves.

Loki was already waiting for you, going through the various weapons and exploring the other equipment the gym had. He was wearing Asgardian clothes this time, but they were less casual than the armor you had seen him in. His dark green tunic clung to his body, and you couldn't help but observe how well it suited his form.

"Good morning, Y/N. I trust this day has found you feeling well," he said surprisingly friendly.

"Yea, feeling good about this!", you lied.

He chuckled and walked up to you, getting close. You could feel your stomach jump as he was just a foot from you now, towering over you.

"Darling, I am the God of Lies- you cannot fool me. I need you to be honest with both yourself and me if we are to be successful in your training."

"Since when does the God of Lies want people to trust him? How do I know I can trust you?", you scoffed.

Great move, going to start today with pissing off the God of Mischief.

You looked up in his gorgeous eyes and saw amusement as a smile crept towards them. He then stepped backwards and laughed.

"Fair point. Now, to our lesson…", and he changed the subject.

-------

You entered your second week of training with Loki in the mornings, and things were going surprisingly well. You had successfully created a shield around yourself twice while Loki came after you with knives, and you even made a field around him once. You were feeling slightly more comfortable around him, but nowhere near as you were around your roommates. Is that what the Avengers were? They weren’t your teammates, yet.

Loki was a thoughtful and patient teacher, and seemed to be observing more than anything so far. He was stern, but not mean when you were unable to provide results that he wanted. When he corrected your posture, stance, or anything you did wrong, he would correct you without the slightest hint of anger. You appreciated that, because it had been different from the other Avengers. Maybe Loki was just better at managing his emotions. While his indifference was a bit disappointing, it provided inspiration for you. You looked to Loki as an example- if he could cooly manage his emotions, you could ignore any lust you had for him.

Today you were meeting up with Steve after your training with Loki. Steve insisted you continued hand to hand sparring practice, since there may be a time you were unable to access your powers (which had been most of the time).

You met in the larger gym, both said hello, and he helped you get into a proper fighting stance. As he positioned your hip, you felt a blush hit your face. Steve continued talking, obviously clueless to your flush. His training style was similar to Loki's, although you didn't have a nagging feeling in the back of your head that he may kill you just for fun.

And then you saw Loki. Your breath hitched as he walked through the doors with Thor.

"...and that will give you a better position on the ball of your foot. That way.." Steve had stopped and followed your gaze to Loki and Thor walking into the gym.

"Oh, Loki is joining us today?", Steve asked as he saw them walking towards a matted area to your left.

Loki grinned at Steve's obvious confusion and Thor smiled.

"Loki has agreed to a sparring match with me today!", Thor beamed.

"Uh huh, " Steve nodded. He turned to you, "I guess Loki is really getting comfortable here, huh?"

"Yea, I guess so," you replied as you watched Loki and Thor get into a fighting stance. You really wanted to watch their match, and it was going to be hard to concentrate on your own practice with Steve.

There was a time you would be distracted by Steve's blue eyes or his kindness, which would get your heart racing if you weren't too careful. But now, something had changed.

The rest of your training with Steve wasn't so great. You tried to listen to him, but he was able to land hits every time. You kept stealing glances at Loki and Thor, to see who would win in their friendly match.

While you and Steve took a water break, you decided to sit and watch the brothers fight. Thor was as fierce as you’d seen him in videos of battle, and Loki was as well, though his fighting style was different. More fluid, calculating. You watched as Loki was able to trip Thor and he fell on his back. Loki looked over to you and winked.

Loki probably winks at everyone though. He seems like kind of a flirt.

“Y/N, you seem a bit distracted today. Everything going okay? You know we have our meeting tomorrow to review your training,” Steve said as he stepped into your line of sight of the brothers sparring.

You cleared your throat, “Oh yea, sorry, I don’t know what it is. I stayed up late last night watching TV, so that’s probably why…I’m just tired”.

“Well it’s very important you get your rest, you have a lot going on and your body needs it,” Steve looked at you sternly. You looked back into his eyes and felt guilty again.

“Of course, sorry, it won’t happen again”

My position in the Avengers is on the line, but I can’t stop gawking at my teacher. Yeesh.

“Actually, Steve, could we wrap up now? I’m not feeling well, and I think I need some more rest,” you lied.

“Oh? Okay, yes, take care of yourself, I understand”, Steve nodded and patted you on the shoulder.

"Let me know if we need to get any medicine for you, don't work yourself too hard if you're sick."

You said thanks, and quickly left to the sounds of Loki and Thor sparring, hoping to get back to your room as quickly as possible. You decided today would be a good day to get out of the tower and take in the sights of the city.

------

The weeks stretched out in to months and you found yourself in a new routine. Mornings with Loki, then sometimes followed by sessions with an Avenger. Read, study, walk around the city. Then maybe cook something for dinner. The Avengers had been around a lot more, you supposed that was good that they didn’t have any urgent missions- it meant things were safe.

You found yourself thinking about Loki more. You only spent a few hours a week with him, but they were becoming your favorite part of the week. Your trainings had also started to stretch past the hour that the two of you had originally planned. In your spare time, you read everything that Tony had about the Asgardians and Loki. You convinced yourself that this was purely for educational purposes. Still, your mind often wandered back to Loki. A funny joke he made in training, or the way his body moved in his Asgardian training clothes, showing off his godly build and strength. When you found these thoughts happening, you quickly shut them down.

He was your teacher, and maybe still a supervillain. And yet, you felt like you were getting closer to him, in ways you didn't expect. He shared with you how his mother had given him his powers, and the hours spent in the library studying spells and trying to learn as much as he could. This only endeared him to you more.

But, you knew you needed to take him seriously or there would be hell to pay. So you tried not to show your budding affection, and focus on being as professional as you could be.

It was a Friday- you and Loki had wrapped up a lesson early, and after your shower you walked into the kitchen for a snack.

Steve was at the counter, reading a newspaper.

"What are we having for dinner this weekend?" Steve asked with a jovial tone.

"Well it's getting a bit cool outside, I was going to do a pork dish with apples and bacon. What do you think? A nice fall dish?"

"That sounds great. I love it when you cook," he smiled.

Just then, Loki walked in with Thor. Your eyebrows raised, he had never come in here before. Loki was dressed in a dark, navy blue suit with a dark blue shirt, and no tie. Why did he always dress like he was going to a high powered meeting on Wall Street?

I guess this is what he thinks makes him fit in, you snickered to yourself.

“So she cooks as well”, Loki said in a sing song voice as he sauntered into the dining area across from you and Steve.

You smiled smugly, “As a matter of fact I do. And bake.” You found yourself feeling very confident, returning Loki's teasing.

“Y/N makes some incredible brownies”, Steve nodded towards you.

“Oh they are Valhalla brother, you should try them!”, Thor chimed in.

“I would love to, if Y/N would do me the courtesy of sharing the next time she makes them”.

Although his tone was cool, you found yourself feeling a bit hot, and a flutter in your chest. Could he notice? No one else seemed to.

“So what brings you boys in here today?," Steve asked.

“Loki was asking for a tour again of the common areas."

“Yes, I figured that since I am going to be in the tower more frequently, I may as well map out the floors if I choose to wander,” Loki said casually as he investigated a technical panel on the wall. He walked over to the couch and sat down, as if he was right at home.

You and Steve looked at each other, a little confused. Just then, Tony walked into the room.

“Guess what kid, I’ve got something for you”, he said as he tossed a bundle of fabric in your direction.

“What’s this?”, you unraveled it. It was a material similar to Natasha’s Black Widow suit, but with blue highlights around all of the stitching.

“It’s your suit! Remember the body scan you did when you first got here? Well, this has been created to those parameters. It gives you an extra layer of defense against blades, bullets, or anything that may get through those shields of yours," Tony explained with a grin.

“Oh my gosh, Tony. Wow. This is so great! Thank you!!”, you wanted to run up and hug him but thought better of it.

“Does this mean I’m on the team?”

“Well, Steve let me know how well your training with Loki was going-” he bowed his head in acknowledgement to Loki. “- so we thought it’s about time you had something better to train in. This isn’t official, but if you keep progressing like you have been lately, I think you may be able to go on a mission with us sometime”.

You looked at Loki with a huge grin on your face, and he smiled back proudly. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him smile that big at anything that wasn’t a joke from Thor. You felt the urge to hug him too, but kept yourself grounded.

"Now you have to think of your codename!", Steve looked at you, smiling warmly.

"Bubbles?" Tony joked. You rolled your eyes and looked at Loki, who looked at Tony with a face of disdain.

Loki stood up and walked over to you, and took your hand, shaking it. “Congratulations, Y/N,” and then turned to Thor.

“Let us continue our tour, shall we?”, Loki gestured in the opposite direction.

You’d be more disappointed in him leaving if you weren’t so excited about your new suit. This was really thanks to him, though. If he hadn’t been helping you, you would be out of the tower already. You decided to bake him some brownies in appreciation.

Chapter 3: The Magic

Chapter List

Peachyjinx Masterlist

[fictionkinfessions]

I miss being able to turn a fire into a beautiful show. I've never seen anyone else talking about it but as a bard, I remember being able to use fire as a medium to bring my songs to life. Imagine a whole tavern watching in awe as a tiny dragonborn bard played his lute and sang his heart out while the fire in the fireplace danced along, creating images of mighty battles and romantic moments between lovers. I had this idea I tried for the very first time with the others from the Absolute issue, even Lae'Zel watched though I'm not sure she really cared that much, I wanted to be part of the show. To dance in the fire. I had Gale help me find/make fireproof clothes and enchant my lute (not my old one that was so sentimental, just in case everything went wrong), and I think we also managed to find an amulet that helped. Then we set up a ring of campfires just big enough for the show and I played and sang and danced in the fire. By the end of my performance, everyone was captivated.

It wasn't the kind of thing I could do at a tavern, of course, I think coaxing the fire out of the fireplace would've gotten me kicked out, but it was something I could do while we were traveling. I only wish I could've done it for the tieflings at the party that one night, but I wasn't bold enough to try it and we only found the right stuff while we were in Baldur's Gate. I was a black and silver dragonborn so I had no natural resistance to fire, plus I wasn't really the "performing in the nude" sort of bard so my clothes needed some protection as well. There's, of course, nothing wrong with those who would perform in the nude, it just wasn't something I wanted to do.

x

[houseofpendragons]

Thoughts on Teen Wolf the Movie while watching it pt.5

PeTeR wAiT" why she say it like that😭

Peter's line would've made way more sense if the Nogitsune was actually giving him illusions (maybe one's about the fire, or being trapped in a coma again, or hell maybe stuff about the desert wolf bc I mega curious about their relationship)

He's playing lacrosse 🥍

Sir should've just dove out the way, he basically told u it had wolfbane on it

"Wolfsbane" reminds me of gerards "Mountain ashhhh!" Lmao I make myself laugh

How'd she knock him out so quick with just an elbow to the face, he's a werewolf

New plot idea, nogi could've made him hallucinate the fire and make him see Kate everywhere so when he sees Allison (as Kate) he's fed up with the illusions bc it's fucking him up. I'm a genius, Jeff Davis hire me 😎

um just cause it looks like her doesn't meanit us her...doppelganger's anyone? (Yes I know different show bit still) or she could be possessed

ur a zombie chica 🧟‍♀️ 😁👍

Not Peter being big baby and having Melissa take care of him in the back😭

Chris what's ur gun gonna do against black smoke, u know it ain't the oni bc the sun's still out

"I've killed oni before" yeah and then they killed you ma'am

Malia "I don't do speeches" Tate, proceeds to give a speech 😂

🎶If we go down then we go down together🎶

Lydia:🔊🔊🔊🔊🔊 Allison:👏📸💏☺😍🥰😂🧍‍♀️👭👫😭💋🏃‍♀️🤣😊🏹😘

Don't think I didn't notice you left out Stiles and Isaac in them flashbacks😑

Oop it's night night time now 🌃

um they belong to themselves, you know free will and all, c'mon it's 2026 in ur universe so get eith the program honestly so canceled 🥱

Also if you were gonna have him say they belong to me know you could've had them possessed by the flies again like in 3b and made him fight his own friends. It'd be good emotionally and for the plot bc we wouldn't know if he'd be forced to kill them or not

oooo and if Stiles was here Nogi takes over his body again and let's Allison go bc he's sacrificing himself for them, there rising another issue but Stiles has full faith that Scott will bring him back

"I'm still standing, I'm still the Alpha!" Sounded a whole lot better in the trailer

also would've been cool if Derek was forced to be on Nogi's side bc he has Eli hostage

"Please don't make me watch my friends and my family die - I can't do that again" is what should've been the line💔

Um that was 3 arrows not 1, thought you were supposed to be a perfect shot, you letting out some pent up rage on my boy Scott? 😶

When did Eli get tied back up? Would've been cool to see it happen telekinetically

I love hikari but it just would've made more sense for Kira to save him. She would've been more powerful by now, she'd have complete control bc of the skinwalkers, and there's the emotional connection that's established between them

Or at the very least if it had to be Hikari they could've done my earlier suggestion and made that little girl and her dog a flashback of Scott saving Hikari bc then it would've been like you saved me once and now I've saved you 👍

Looked cool af thou 🔥

Damn, headshot 🎯

Hold up, now wait a minute, you're suddenly a perfect shot again?😂

Hold up Parrish where your clothes at and what underwear you buying bc all ur other clothes burn up but ur undies are fireproof?!😭

Heyyy, I love whoever idea it was to give mama McCall a crossbow 😎👌

Not Peter now using the wolfsbane ring dagger that just poisoned him🤦‍♀️is he good by the way lol did Melissa have a lighter on her or something

Yeah, you motherfucker *copies Peter's dramatic hair flip*💅

Stab stab flip flip

Yeah Jackson and Lydia takedown we deserve

Stiles taught her how to use a gun and he'd be so proud of his wife right now😁

Would've been cool if it was, like I said earlier, Stiles being the one at gunpoint and Jackson comes to save them (Stiles would be so annoyed😂)

oh he wasn't tied up, he was just hiding again

Eli you little liar you already done the glowing eyes and the fangs

Awwww yes! Eli and Derek are my favorite part of this movie, I could watch a whole series about them🥺

Love how they roared together, like Derek was giving him strength and encouragement in that roar

Love the wolfie faces, though I do think the shows looked a little bit scarier, the eyes are really good in this one thou🐺

Baby Eli and Daddy Derek to the rescue

Now we all got our guns back that ig Parrish was hiding in his underpants 🙈😭

pow pow mf

I thought it was impossible to be both a fox and a wolf🤔

This supports my theory that this is just another illusion and none of it's real. It looks real and feels real but it's not

Ugh you was ugly ass mf wolf-fox🤢

Why his eyes glowing green? shouldn't it be a more yellowish green for a firefly 🤨

He looks like a mole deadass💀

🎶we're all in this together🎶

Why aren't Peter, Malia, Liam, Hikari, and Parrish going with them...

Eli honey, I love you but...why you running like that, you look like ur about to fall🤭

I like how the lighting in each room reflects their eyes

Well obviously its not real

You know my dumbass would just be in their yelling "echo" bc it'd be funny to me😭

Well that was very rude of you Nogi

What was Harris's goal, I'm still confused 😕

Should called him a pup instead of a child, it just would've been more pleasing to me bc it's a funny tease to say to a werewolf idk why

"Start with me" Nogi said okay say less 👍

Now you see me, now you don't

Scott this is kind of embarrassing for you bc Duke taught you how to fight using all your other senses when your sight won't help you...

you can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread man 🤪

So what did everyone else see? Did they just see them all on the nemeton looking ridiculous or did they do a disappearing act snd magically appear out of nowhere

Also why didn't nogi mess with them at the same time, seems a waste if you ask me to just leave them to come up with a plan, then ur just asking you get defeated but oh well🤷‍♀️

Oop well Eli's out the game again but Parrish is putting himslef back in, there's a good man (there's a nice demon😂)

Nogi's laugh made me laugh 🤣

Hell no, don't you dare. I know that look Derek Hale, don't you fucking do it. Bad werewolf, very bad werewolf! not infront of ur son! NO, HE IS NOT APART OF SCOTT'S PACK NOW IDGAF THAT HE'S THE ALPHA

PARRISH DON'T LIGHT THAT FUCKER UP

DEREKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!

So much for only a true alpha only every few hundred years, BUT IT WAS FUCKING EARNED DAMN IT😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

The way Eli said dad😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Okay let me be serious, I don't think Derek's dead. This was was all on layer of the illusion, it looks real, it feels real, but it's not real!

Idk where Derek or the Nogitsune are but neither are dead, bc you can't even kill a Nogitsune so where is the fly like at the end of S3 hmmm🤨

He's not dead no, nope, i refuse

Poor Peter, Derek and him were really close, even though they had their differences they were still all they had left 😢

Eli😔

Ew Scott shouldn't be giving the speech it should be Peter or Eli

Where's Isaac (his first beta), Cora (his sister), and Stiles? You can't tell me they wouldn't be there for his funeral

Actually the first the first thing he said to you was "What are you doing here? This is private property"

AWWW Papa Stilinski coming in clutch🥺

DEREKKKK😭😭😭

This is where Lydia answers Stiles would renew their vows

NO UR NOT ALLOWED TO ADOPT ELI YOU ARGENT AND FAILWOLF (no offense)

Um isn't she still technically 17🤨

[stuckinuniformdevelopment]

@bishop-percival

(Previous) Mike narrowed his eye back at Teddy. “Of course isolating him is a given. But there’s still the risk of being followed or spied on, him somehow notifying them if we’re not quick enough, and not to mention the aftermath of them trying to search for their beloved bishop who suddenly disappeared.” Then Mike seemed to perk like he remembered something and stepped toward Bert while digging around in his pocket. “I meant to give this to you when you first got here, but… Here.” He handed him a necklace. A simple crystal-like pendant wrapped in silver wire hung from a black leather cord. “It blocks clairvoyant remote viewing signa—” Bert took it and interrupted with “Oh yes, Teddy told me about these.” He studied it closely for a moment before shrugging and putting it on. He then excitedly returned Teddy’s look. “Immolation! Yes! Perfect! Quick but still agonizing!” He was secretly bummed out that that would leave nothing to harvest except ash, but… Obviously voicing that was a terrible idea. Mike thought about it for a moment before nodding. “Alright. If it’s his magic that keeps him fireproof, then immolation should work when we disable that.”

Teddy didn’t falter under Mike’s scolding. Yet he didn’t dare respond either, not when his only words were, “Why did you assume that Bert failed to consider that?”

Then he relaxed up when he saw Mike offer the pendant to Bert. Good. He had been wondering when to bring it up.

Teddy was thrilled by Bert’s enthusiastic approval. So much that he wasn't able to completely suppress his smile as he turned to Mike. It had started to fade as he took his time to mull it over, only to become brighter than before when he agreed.

Then Teddy put his hand on his chin while gradually returning to a serious expression. “Would passive magic be negated? Or has his physical structure changed enough to not need magic to maintain his resistance?”

Teddy paused to look at Bert and squinted as he struggled to clearly see his face. Bert still planning on grave robbing (so to speak), wasn't he?

After a bit he gave up and turned his attention back to Mike. “Would Reverend Miriam be able to track his remains?”

[pof203]

A Summoner Birthday

Fashion 23 and (possibly) 24

Arachne: Our next model is one hunk of beef. He's considered a big lovable buffalo with a lot of love and ready to give it to everyone. He's the football captain and super start of Yoyogi Academy. He's ready to make his kickoff to greatness, especially in a hot splash.

The Yoyogi Football Captain Buffalo, Wakan Tanka!

Arachne: Ah, that outfit takes me back to my time as a seaside fashionista. Like the original one, the sleeveless hoodie shows off his muscles and has a sexy buffalo design on the front. The green skintight shorts with black racing stripes make it easier for movement, especially when running, have have matching shoes.

Alice: Though I don't really see how this fits into a fairy tale. I think I have something similar in my closet.

Arachne: I chose this outfit based on the genre known as isekai, when someone, usually a young man or woman, is taken to another world. A world of fantasy, usually on the functions of an RPG. The situation we're in is similar to that, so I think this fits perfectly. But I have made some improvements. The outfit can take a lot of heat in hot places to avoid extra sweating, though, he might still need to cover up in cold places. And the eyes in the buffalo have a camera feature so he can show us everything he sees without his phone.

You never cease to amaze, my Arachne. I know these improvements will help us on our quest.

Arachne: Indeed they might... However, there's another feature your clothes have.

Wakan Tanka: (looking down) Yes, I know... (looking up again and smiling) Don't worry, I'm ready?

Alice: Ready for what?

Wakan Tanka: Here we go... Great Spirit Power, Henshin! Buffalo Up!

Suddenly, the glowing green ribbons from before wrap themselves around Wakan Tanka in a human sized cocoon, almost like a magical boy transformation. Wakan Tanka's glowing body changes from green to brown. A burst of light comes from it. Then, it fades...

Arachne: From the World of the Great Spirit is its World Representative who has worn himself out giving his love to others. But he still has much of it to give, even though it hurts him and sometimes us. But he has a heart of gold and it won't give way to doubt.

The Bone-Weary Bovine, the Permeator of All Creation, Wakan Tanka∞!

Everyone was surprised to see this.

Arachne: Wakan Tanka's original outfit can change when he does. This attire is based off of his usual attire. The tunic have a good design to go well with his belt that has a turquoise buckle. They also have feathers that match. The metal bands also bring out his tattoos which glow and for decorations many necklaces of turquoise, minerals, and feathers.

Alice: (curious) Is he... wearing anything under there?

Arachne: Sorry, confidential unless he says so. The improvements I've made is that the tunic is bulletproof, waterproof, fireproof, cold resistant, and the bands also deflect certain attacks. Not much else to add since in this form, he's extremely powerful.

I have to say, this is fine work. Even I can hardly tell that this is not the same garment I wear when I am in this form.

Arachne: And now...

AUTHER'S NOTE: I'll explain how Wakan Tanka can change into his Infinity form later. Also keep in mind, this takes place after Chapter 13 which I have only seen some of on YouTube and have not made it there myself in the game. Feel free to tell me if I missed anything, but don't spoil it too much. Thank you.

[baekhvuns]

Omggg, Baeksy IT'S MEEEE DV ANON! 💖💖💖💖 I fell off the face of the earth, but I have returned. I see you haven't been very active on here either, but what did I miss, how are things, fill me in!? Except the obvious misery... I meant to message you a few times and actually sent an ask a few months ago, but shit glitched and it didn't go through so I gave up 😭 but the news about Lewis made me think of you. Lmao one of my friend's is in shambles she'll have to support Ferrari after years of hating on them. Been there, done that I remember when I got into Griezmann just to find out he played for Atletico then he went to Barca, ahhsajhshsjdhsjaj man hates me so much!!! Or when Fabregas left Arsenal for Barca etc....

A lot happened to me, but nothing much had changed at the same time, hopefully 2024 will be a bit better. 😬

In the meantime I went to the US for some reason, lol, I also went to Vancouver and actually wanted to message you then, but forgot... then I spent some time in Thailand and Korea. Now I'm back in London, but going to Seoul next week for a few months, because of a job. Which I'm kinda excited for, but also not really ashdhsshshshhsn. Potentially I may move there for longer, but we will see...

As for kpop I'm kinda in and out you know? I actually got into some other artists, so I'm not really up to date with Ateez anymore, it's pretty sad, but they don't really bring me joy anymore. I still love Hwa and check on him from time to time, I miss my hardcore Shinestar era :( but it lasted really long so I'm surprised. Maybe I'll be back one day, unfortunately Ateez's recent releases just don't hit and I'm sick and fucking tired of KQ :/ Buuuuut I've been on the roll with kpop concerts, so I feel like I'm more of an irl kpop enjoyer rather than online one if that makes sense.

That's it for my TMI for now <3

WHAT THE FUCK

Omggg, Baeksy IT'S MEEEE DV ANON! 💖💖💖💖 I fell off the face of the earth, but I have returned. I see you haven't been very active on here either, but what did I miss, how are things, fill me in!? Except the obvious misery... I meant to message you a few times and actually sent an ask a few months ago, but shit glitched and it didn't go through so I gave up 😭 but the news about Lewis made me think of you. Lmao one of my friend's is in shambles she'll have to support Ferrari after years of hating on them. Been there, done that I remember when I got into Griezmann just to find out he played for Atletico then he went to Barca, ahhsajhshsjdhsjaj man hates me so much!!! Or when Fabregas left Arsenal for Barca etc....

I JUST LET A SCREAM OUT

WHAT THE FUCK WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN

I AM. FBQKDBWMDBWKDHWK SCREAMING. I THOUGHT YOUD ACTUALLY NEVER COME BACK 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 THE WAY I SAW YOUR ASK AND HAD TO REFRESH BECAUSE NO MF WAY

hOW are you omg??? HOW ARE YOU! how was it been, WHERE have you been 😭😭 how was your travels!! things here are plain boring! in and out of kpop and trying to write something </3 you left for so long that im nearing my graduation this is ridiculous kvjvkckc i also re watched a bunch of 2000’s romcoms and kept thinking of u 😭

omg the lewis news, i woke up to it and it fucked with my mind a bit. like wdym he’s going ferarri? this is like messi going madrid and ronaldo going to barca??? LMFAOOOO YOUR FRIEND HAS TO FORCE HERSELF TO FORZA FERARRI EVERY WEEKEND im so excited but confused for his move, it’s time ferrari brings back the black fireproof just for ham. the mercedes must’ve been absolute shit for him to be sign it with ferrari & earn 100 million? FUCK?

this move is so iconic i can’t fully grasp it,,, anon u have to see him at silvertone in that red car in 2025 PLEASE I BEG! griezmann really said uno reverse on you 😭 & hello klopp is leaving ??? 10 years really coming to and end huh 😭

A lot happened to me, but nothing much had changed at the same time, hopefully 2024 will be a bit better. 😬

we need a ppt doc, pdf, of how things went for you! how was your travels and everything!!! hopping 2024 is good for u and u earn lots <3 i heard it’s a capricorn year so??? 🫡

In the meantime I went to the US for some reason, lol, I also went to Vancouver and actually wanted to message you then, but forgot... then I spent some time in Thailand and Korea. Now I'm back in London, but going to Seoul next week for a few months, because of a job. Which I'm kinda excited for, but also not really ashdhsshshshhsn. Potentially I may move there for longer, but we will see...

you went where.

vancouver.

oh.

and you forgot to text me about it.

how dare you.

for all i know. we would’ve crossed paths unknowingly.

wow. i just paced around my room after reading this.

anon omg you should see the devastation on my face when you said you came here HOW DARE YOU! TRAITOR 🔫 WOW IM SO WORKED UP RN HOW DARE YOU BDQKDKWBDKABDDN WHERE DID U GO IN VAN

oooo a new job in sk?? that is so cool, now u can see yuta on the streets often 😭😭 hope you have a good time there!!!

As for kpop I'm kinda in and out you know? I actually got into some other artists, so I'm not really up to date with Ateez anymore, it's pretty sad, but they don't really bring me joy anymore. I still love Hwa and check on him from time to time, I miss my hardcore Shinestar era :( but it lasted really long so I'm surprised. Maybe I'll be back one day, unfortunately Ateez's recent releases just don't hit and I'm sick and fucking tired of KQ :/ Buuuuut I've been on the roll with kpop concerts, so I feel like I'm more of an irl kpop enjoyer rather than online one if that makes sense. /// That's it for my TMI for now <3

i actually kind of second this,, ive also been in and out of it. song releases just don’t hit anymore from everyone, so my interest is fading. i also miss being a shinestar but i think i got out of it, i just have no interest in it anymore (actually had a small ick that made me go insane but it’s okay now) 😭😭 did/currently going thru a soft yunho phase but like you i haven’t been keeping up with them neither do they show up on my tl often! but concerts are something ill be attending! yeah it totally makes sense! i think a lot the in and out also has to do with the lack of interesting music or just good music in general. WHICH CONCERTS DID YOU GO TOOO?

also anon, i know you said u came here but didn’t shoot me a text about it 🔫 im fortunately and hopefully going for a field school in your england in the coming next year! where i WILL shoot a text unlike someone here 🧍🏻‍♀️ill be going to england first and hopefully touring around europe for a bit! & ill def ask u for places to go to as a first timer!

[deardragonbook]

Character outfits

Clothes. We wear them every day, or at the very least most days. 

It’s one of the first things we usually describe in a character, you go over hair, eyes, height, facial features, body build and clothes. 

Often, only the first outfit gets mentioned, maybe a ball gown or a uniform might come up? But it’s less common. 

So we usually are quite picky about that first outfit. It has to say something about the character, bring that initial description together. That’s a lot of pressure to put on some material we use to cover our bodies. 

It can be difficult to choose the right outfit. Most YA fantasy novels I read tend to go with something plain, simple and comfortable. And that makes sense, it’s easier to imagine a main character doing adventures in those clothes. Sometimes if it’s royalty they get some cool dress.

I think perhaps the outfit that stands out the most in my mind, at this very moment, is the uniform in Convenience Store Woman, I know, I know, not my genre, but it was simply such a vital part of the story. I urge any aspiring authors to read this book, not much happens, it’s just an example of amazing writing and descriptive text. 

Another think is, what if your character doesn’t have a specific way of dressing? What if your characters enjoys switching it up? Well, you can’t just change their outfit a million times, all that description of clothing would bore your reader! 

There’s so much to think about when it comes to clothing and outfits. 

So, here’s some quick things to think about: 

1.- If you’re going to change up the outfit often, just be vague about it. Jeans and a tshirt, a summer dress, a black suit... unless it’s a ball gown for an important event or a specific item of clothing with plot relevance, you can be vague and let your audience fill in the details. Nobody will get angry at your for changing their outfit ten times if you don’t waste barely a sentence. 

2.- Be practical. I know my main character is most comfortable in a yellow dress she can twirl and show off. Honestly, so would I. But the same way I throw on jeans and a tshirt to go to university, so does she. Not university. But at the beginning of the book when about to go on a trip she’s shown changing into more comfortable and practical clothes. 

3.- Try not to bother with too many details, especially those that will get in the way. For example, if you give a character a hat, there are a million things that can happen to hats, they fall of, blow away in the wind, mess up your hair... if your character is going on adventures with a hat and you just forget about it and your audience does not, that is a stupidly unimportant problem, but a problem nonetheless. 

4.- You can show of a character’s personality through certain parts of an outfit. Do they take the extra time to put earrings in? What designs does their tshirt have? Are their shoes comfortable or fashionable? Does their dress have pockets? Please, more pockets. 

5.- Remember colours! 

6.- Also, what materials are the clothes made out off? Could that be relevant for some reason? This may seem weird, but the fact my main character has fireproof clothes is a really important part of my story. I’ve also seen a lot of people use the material of clothes as a way to signify class. 

7.- Remember pijamas! Does your character have a night gown? Fluffy pijamas? An old tshirt? Maybe I’m just silly but I really like knowing what character’s wear to bed. It can also be a sign of class. I certainly can’t afford pijamas, old tshirts it is for me. 

Anyway, that’s all I can think to say about clothes for today. 

As usual,  check out my socials and book here.

What’s your favourite outfit? What’s your favourite fictional character’s outfit? Doesn’t have to be a book. I think my favourite going of the top of my head is Mabel (from Gravity Falls), she changed her outfit yet it also never changed, it was always a sweater and skirt and I just loved it. Great, now I miss Gravity Falls again. 

[lightsovermonaco]

Body Shots (Pierre Gasly)

Inspired by (and beta read) by the amazing @limp-wrist-max​ thank you Mea! 

Masterlist

Word count: 3.5k

Recommended song: “Lucky You” by Sim Dane

Vacationing in Milan had its perks. Fine dining, luxury stores that were prime for window shopping, and the proximity to your best friend, to name a few.

When you'd touched down in Milan you had had no intentions of visiting Pierre. You had just finished your exams for your summer class and had a week before the next semester started up, so you had simply booked the cheapest ticket and boarded a plane. 

The intent had been to have some good wine, good food and unwind. Pierre saw your Instagram story minutes after you posted it and recognized the bakery you stopped at for lunch. And once he found out you were only a few minutes away from that weekend's grand prix, he had ideas that didn't involve you reading a novel all day.

Pierre had insisted that a last minute cancelation by a family friend had left a paddock pass unclaimed and had suggested you take it.

"You're my best friend, it'll be fun to have you experience a weekend through my eyes for once instead of sitting in the stands. Come visit me."

Something in the inflection of his voice made the simple request rub you raw. He missed you. It had been months since your last get together and you couldn't blame him. The last year had been rough for him and he  rarely had anyone physically at his side to help him through it.

Inviting you instead of one of his parents was about more than your current proximity to the track. He hadn't missed a beat in asking you, not hesitating to consider anyone else being with him this weekend.

Your stomach had turned as you climbed in a cab Sunday morning, not out of fear of something going wrong but because of the nagging feeling that something was about to change.

You'd known Pierre since you were kids. Your brother had raced in karting before pursuing another dream, but in the few short years you'd hung around European tracks you had managed to forge a bond with one of your brother's rivals. That friendship carried on regardless of the distance that separated you, kept alive by visits in the off season and once a year trips to the racetrack at Silverstone.

Pierre met you at the gates and you had barely seen him since.

A decent qualifying session saw the Frenchman start P10 on Sunday's race. He didn't hide the fact that he was disappointed, but come time for his final meeting with the team you'd never guess he was anything but ecstatic.

You had to be conscious about your mouth hanging open when Pierre stepped into the garage in his fireproofs with his suit half undone. The tuft of blond hair peeking through his backwards cap floats on an invisible breeze and he bounces on his toes. His brow furrows when he is handed a data sheet, listening intently to what the engineer points out.

Butterflies riot in your stomach when Pierre catches you staring and winks. You pray he writes the blush on your cheeks off as the heat and he must, because he raises his eyebrows and flexes a bit.

You laugh to cover the way you want to do nothing but strip him out of that tight fitted white shirt. Your crush was getting out of hand. Pierre's shameless, friendly flirting only escalated matters.

You told yourself it was nothing. He was like this with every girl he met, making a fool of himself to earn a laugh. You were no different, except maybe that you were a constant where most other women only got to enjoy his playful personality for a short time.

You're treated to a few long minutes of watching Pierre prep to climb into the car before he's heading out on track to line up at the grid. 

The race starts off fine, Pierre's pace is better than expected. One of the Haas's breaks down at the pit entry and Pierre's strategist decides to bring him in for a fresh set of tires. A kiss seems like the proper reward for their stroke of brilliance, which affords Pierre the advantage when the pits close soon after. 

Restarting on lap 28 is nail biting. Hamilton, Stroll, and Pierre make up the podium places. The entire garage gasps when Stroll goes wide at turn four. Hamilton serves his penalty and Pierre inherits the lead. Sainz jumps on the opportunity to attack.

Pierre defends brilliantly until the final lap. The team erupts when he crosses the line first, bringing home the win.

Red, white and green confetti sticks to his skin as he sprays the champagne over all of you. In the heat of it all, Pierre sits on that top step and shakes his head. You already know that the photos of him being snapped from all angles will be gorgeous, the sun shining down on the first French grand prix winner in decades.

A legend in the minds of his people and in yours.

You could scarcely believe it yourself. Your best friend had finally, after years of being pushed down, won a grand prix at the temple of speed. Red Bull had been wrong, just as you'd insisted when Pierre cried over losing his seat and his friend in one weekend. But god, did Pierre rise above it all.

Pierre catches your gaze just before he leaves the podium. A lifetime of emotion swirls around him like an enigma, begging you to find out what it was hiding. Your wave is barely more than a lift of your hand but Pierre notes it nonetheless, tipping his trophy in your direction.

You wait patiently on the sidelines as Pierre poses for pictures with his team on and off the track. His attention constantly falls on you, his grin widening each time he sees you tucked under the arm of an enthusiastic mechanic or crew member. Alpha Tauri was a family and you were an honorary member thanks to your connection to their driver.

An action packed hour of cameras passes before Pierre is able to break away. As soon as he's given the go ahead he passes his trophy off and marching to you. You're both practically running by the time you meet in the middle. You crash into him and he lifts you off your feet in a crushing hug.

"You did it," you whisper, overwhelmed by his success now that you've gotten the chance to celebrate with him. "I'm so proud of you."

Pierre laughs as he sets you on your feet. His smile is wider than you've ever seen it and you're sure his cheeks must be sore.

"Wish they allowed us to bring a friend up there," Pierre says softly, a smile melting into a sly smirk. "Seeing you doused in champagne is an image I wouldn't forget."

You shake your head, caught up in his ceaseless flirting. He had no idea that his honeyed words and gentle touches lit something inside of you, rattling your brain and making it impossible to form a coherent sentence. Instead you snatch the black and gold Pirelli cap off his head and place it on your own, earning you a peal of laughter.

"Looks better on you anyway." Pierre runs a hand through his sweaty, champagne doused hair, leaving bits sticking up at odd angles.

Someone calls Pierre's name, far enough away that there's no rush. Pierre's hands remain planted on your waist and yours stay wrapped around his neck. By the way his bright blue eyes bore into yours, you swear he's thinking the same thing you are.

"Thank you for believing in me," he murmurs, gaze falling to your lips.

"I knew it was just a matter of time," you tell him, inching up on your tiptoes. Tempted by his win, you want to ruin the best friendship you've ever had. You want to discover if the lips you spend far too much time dreaming about felt as soft as they looked. You want to know how it feels to be lost in Pierre, newly minted race winner, and find out just how he dealt with the adrenaline and euphoria of his incredible drive.

"Well done mate!"

Max Verstappen startles the two of you apart. You take a healthy step back and drop your gaze to the ground to hide your burning cheeks.

"Thanks." Pierre accepts the Dutchman's embrace and claps him on the back. "Sucks I didn't get to fight you for it."

"There will be more chances in the future. And I didn't expect to see you here, that's a nice surprise." Max knocks you with his shoulder, tipping you off balance. On instinct you latch onto Pierre's arm to steady yourself. You wait a heartbeat too long to remove your hand and both of you find anywhere to look but each other.

"So where's the party?" You ask, searching for a distraction from the way your palm still burns.

"Definitely not at Red Bull." Max shudders and you laugh because that's what you do when someone is being over dramatic. It rings hollow in your ears.

"I hear there's a few guys with adjoining rooms at the hotel who bought plenty of booze," Pierre says. "You and Dan wanna come by?"

"Is that really a question?" Max grins, already typing out a text as Pierre feeds him the details.

**********

"You should do body shots," Max suggests, which earns a roaring laugh from Daniel and a half hearted one from Pierre.

"I don't think so," Pierre says, "there's no one here I trust enough to let that happen."

"Not even your best friend?" Max gestures to you and shoots you a wink when Pierre glances over. "I think she's trustworthy."

"No thanks." Pierre holds up his plastic cup and salutes Max before draining it to the dregs.

Pierre's immediate refusal hurt more than it probably should have. You hadn't expected him to jump at the offer but having him shut the idea down so thoroughly hadn't been what you wanted either.

Max notes your pouty lower lip and speaks on your behalf. "Come on mate," Max insists. "You just won your first prix, live a little! It's not like you've got anything to lose, she's your best friend."

"That's exactly why-"

"Shut up, it would be fun! Wouldn't it?" Max says this last bit to you, a wild grin on his face.

Max expects you to turn red and object. That was his end goal. But what the Dutchman hadn't counted on was how drunk you already were on Pierre. On his smile. On his bright blue eyes, swirling in the aftermath of his unlikely triumph. And mostly on the not-so-sneaky way he glances at you every few minutes.

"Let's do it."

Pierre blinks, searching your face for any sign of distress. "Wait, are you serious?"

"Yeah, why not?" You shrug, suddenly fearing that you'd read him wrong and he really was against this whole thing. "Unless you don't want to-"

"Get the vodka," Pierre interrupts, nodding to Max though his stare remains pinned on you. Pierre latches onto your wrist and drags you around the room until he finds a table long and sturdy enough for his liking. 

"This a good height for you?"

The coffee table is low enough that you'd have to kneel. Luckily getting on your knees isn't something you'd mind doing for Pierre. You lick your lips without thinking. Pierre's pupils blow wide, black swallowing the swirling oceans of blue.

"Sure," is all you manage.

"Good." Apparently neither of you were able to focus on speech. You work together to clear the empty plastic cups and used napkins from the surface. Your hands brush when you both reach for the last cup and you just catch the way Pierre's breath hitches.

You and Pierre have danced this dance since you were teenagers. Each of you knows the steps by heart. The only difference is tonight neither of you were poised to bow out before the final lift.

"Beep beep, bitches!" You yank your hand away when Max's shout reaches you. Pierre's hand lingers in front of him,  outstretched as if your palm remained grazing his thumb. 

Max holds the bottle of vodka over his head as he wades through the crowd. "You're all about to be very, very entertained."

"Where's your chaperone?" You ask Max, searching for Daniel in the low lighting. You press your palm to your thigh, dissipating Pierre's lingering heat.

The Dutchman waves you off. "Went to get us more drinks. Pierre, isn't it kinda hard to do body shots if you're still fully clothed?"

"Who says I'm the one getting undressed?"

Max's grin dimples his flushed cheeks. "I mean you can ask her to take her shirt off in front of all these people if you want to."

"No," Pierre responds quickly. "Fine. I'll do it."

When Pierre strips off his shirt he gets more than a few whistles from men and women alike. That tended to happen when someone was built like a Greek fucking god, you supposed. Whoever voted for People Magazine's "Sexiest Man Alive" and decided on Michael B. Jordan had clearly never laid eyes on Pierre, with his bronzed skin, endless expanses of muscle, and brilliant cheshire grin.

Michael B. Jordan who?

Pierre hands the team branded shirt off and lays out on the table. He pillows an arm under his head, bare bicep flexed as he gets comfortable. Leaning in to kiss along the hard muscle was out of the question, however tempting it was.

Pierre looks up expectantly. "You coming?" 

Holy shit, this was actually happening.

"Yeah, I'm coming." You sink to your knees and Pierre laughs.

"Up here." He pats his thigh with his free hand and beacons you forward. "Please."

Screw it, you've already thrown your friendship out the window. This night ended either in heartbreak or awkwardness, might as well get your money's worth.

A few whoops break out above the music. The bassline isn't the only thing thundering in your chest as you straddle Pierre's thighs, hands braced on his chest.

"Okay?" Pierre whispers for your ears only. You nod with what you hope is a charming smile.

"Alright move," Max says, shooing you back until you're resting on your haunches. Max flicks the cap off the bottle and you grab it to take a long sip.

Max gapes at you and you wipe a hand over your mouth. "Close your mouth, you'll catch flies."

Pierre's thighs tense beneath you in response to your bold declaration. Dozens of Pierre's friends and team members gather around. For all you care, Pierre is the only person in the room.

"Last chance to back out," Max warns. You're too busy tracking the drop of liquid that falls from the neck of the bottle to splash onto the crease of Pierre's abs to bother responding. 

"Pour it out." Pierre's chest sinks with his demand, doing nothing but sparking your imagination, creating images of him heaving beneath you. You'd sell your soul to recreate the way you're currently poised above Pierre's hips with a little less clothing and no audience.

Max gives up hope on you replying and dribbles the alcohol up Pierre's abdomen, stopping just below his pecks.

"Have at 'er-"

Your tongue is on Pierre's skin before Max has finished his sentence. You feel the muscle tense beneath your tongue, going rigid at the first contact. The burn of the vodka doesn't even register as you lap it up, catching the drips that fall over his sides. 

You aren't sure either of you is breathing. Salty sweat mingles with the sharpness of the alcohol, an afterthought barely worth mentioning.

Blame the liquid courage or blame the high from Pierre's win, but you were confident Pierre was enjoying this just as much as you. 

Planting a hand on Pierre's hip, you steal a glance up at him to find him locked on you. You take that as permission to continue, dragging your tongue flat up his stomach and continuing well past where the vodka had been poured. Up between his pecks, over the curve of his throat that bobs beneath your tongue, over his chin until you meet his lips, already parted and waiting. 

Neither of you pay the shouts cresting around you any heed. You've both waited too long for this, endured too many almosts and what ifs to let the opportunity slip through your fingers. Your sticky hands cradle Pierre's face, angling it in a way that's to your liking so you can explore more of his mouth. He tastes like whiskey and mint, the juxtaposition of hot and cold scattering your thoughts. One of Pierre's hands finds the nape of your neck when you gasp for air, refusing to let you end the moment.

And it's pure, unending bliss that floods your veins when he nips at your lower lip, swollen and surely reddened from his kiss. His thumb sweeps across the back of your neck while you both fight to catch the breath currently evading you.

Daydreams didn't hold a candle to the real thing. One taste and you were addicted, craving as much as Pierre was willing to give.  

"Hey," he murmurs, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a stupidly gorgeous smile.

"That was nice," you tease, tangling your fingers in the silky blond strands of his hair. "I wouldn't be opposed to doing it again."

"Me too. Maybe somewhere where it's just us though. I wouldn't want to scandalize my team any further." You manage to steal another sweet peck before Max hauls you off Pierre.

"Fucking finally," Daniel says, clapping when you're upright again. "Do you know how long I've been trying to orchestrate this? The two of you really are dumber than a box of rocks. I can't believe all it took was Max suggesting body shots to get you two to kiss."

The arm that wraps around your waist feels right. Pierre hasn't hugged you like this before, with his chin resting on your shoulder and his nose nuzzling your neck, but it already feels like home.

Pierre ignores Max completely in favor of pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. "Why don't we go back to my room? I'll pour more alcohol on myself if that's what it takes to convince you."

You're just about to take him up on the offer when one of his team members taps his shoulder. He glances at them impatiently, which the man thankfully doesn't take personally.

"They want some photos with you holding your trophy," he explains, handing a shirt and the star shaped interpretation of the Italian flag to Pierre. "It will only take a few minutes,  they promised not to keep you long."

Of course everyone knew exactly where your minds were. Sanity had long since left the premises, tangled up in crisp white sheets. Pierre's entire team and half the Red Bull garage had seen what had gone down while the prix winner was sprawled on that coffee table. There would be no chance of denying it in the morning. 

And while you'd never imagined that the first time you'd kiss your best friend would be directly preceded by licking copious amounts of shitty liquor off his super-heated skin, now that you'd experienced it any other way seems forgettable.

Pierre sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I mean, I already have my trophy, but…" your stomach lurches when you realize he means you. Pierre catches the way your mouth hangs open and he shoots you a grin before accepting the real trophy.

"You carry it," he says, not giving you much of a choice as he thrusts it into your hands. "I'm occupied."

You're about to point out that his hands are, in fact, free and that the more likely reason for insisting you carry the trophy was his usual post-race laziness when he slings an arm around your shoulders and tucks you tight to his side.

"Is this okay?" Pierre asks when you involuntarily stiffen. God, it was more than okay, it was perfect, it had just caught you by surprise. You'd only kissed him a handful of minutes ago and Pierre was already wrapped around your finger, smitten as if you'd been a couple for years.

"Yeah no, it's perfect. Simply lovely," you say quickly, stumbling over your words.

"Can I kiss you again?"

Your answer comes in the form of a hand on his chest, stopping him in his tracks. You prop the trophy on your hip and smile up at your race winner.

"You don't have to ask that ever again. My answer is always yes."