#blue man group vegas
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Blue Man Group walking over the audience at the Absinthe show at Caesar’s Palace in Las Vegas.
https://www.instagram.com/maryhenlin/
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the blue - part nine
series masterlist // previous // next
ameliaholland triple header, you were amazing, time to go home for a while before vegas! p.s. i'll be performing for one night only in london on the 7th, tix on sale now!
tagged: oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, landonorris, mclaren
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username girl do you ever fucking rest?
↳ ameliaholland you know what they say, the devil works hard but amelia holland works harder
samholland1999 how soon are you flying out again?
↳ ameliaholland we fly out on the 9th...
↳ samholland1999 damn.. they're right you never rest
↳ ameliaholland wag life is not for the weak
username NEW MUSIC? A PERFORMANCE IN LONDON?
paddyholland2004 tell mum i'm old enough for the vegas gp
↳ ameliaholland sorry kid, you're not
↳ paddyholland2004 I TOTALLY AM! THIS IS UNFAIR!
username the random charles picture is so funny. like no context is given and it's my favorite thing ever.
username oscar's featured on this more than amelia on her page, and i don't mind it one bit
mclaren perhaps tickets for admin?
↳ ameliaholland keep sending the oscar pictures and you've got a deal
↳ mclaren will do ms.holland!
logansargeant boo! we hung out and not once is there a picture of me here!
↳ ameliaholland you said and i quote, "i look like shit, don't you dare fucking post those amelia!"
↳ logansargeant but you still could have posted one of me!
username i live for wag amelia!
username my favorite wags are amelia holland and taylor swift.
danielricciardo DO I GET A FREE INVITE!!
↳ ameliaholland OF COURSE, ANYTHING FOR MY 2ND FAVORITE AUSTRALIAN!
amelia holland added 5 people
max verstappen i swear if one of them is harrison i reserve the right to sic yuki on him
yuki tsunoda who am i fighting?
amelia holland it's my brothers, tuwaine, and z
daniel ricciardo i may just be uncultured but who's z?
amelia holland zendaya? duh.
lance stroll sure just casually mention of the biggest actresses of our generation as if we should all personally know her.
lando norris to be fair, that is technically her sister-in-law. am i allowed to call her that? they aren't married.
tuwaine barrett why would you call each other max's biggest nightmares?
george russell he said we were. except for charles
alex albon they're in love with each other, they just don't know it yet.
logan sargeant sort of like pierre and yuki, although they know they're in love.
mick schumacher amelia, toto was hunting down the person who left a whoopie cushion on his seat.
amelia holland te-he. carlos sainz is next on my pranking hitlist.
charles leclerc do i want to know why?
amelia holland inexperience...
daniel ricciardo i love this kid
amelia holland can't believe they were all bitching for a week straight to be added to this group chat and when i add them they don't answer.
zendaya amelia, do you ever fucking rest?
amelia holland sometimes but in my defense, i got nothing.
oscar piastri she just doesn't want to see harrison
yuki tsunoda that's the dickhead, correct?
lando norris yes, yuki, that is the dickhead
tom holland i don't get what performing has to do with seeing harrison but okay.
amelia holland you’re a man, of course you don’t get it.
zendaya ugh men
lando norris yeah, you girls tell him.
amelia holland that goes for you too norizz
yuki tsunoda yeah fuck men, especially pierre
amelia holland speak your truth king!
lando norris this is favoritism!
pierre gasly what the fuck did i do?
yuki tsunoda you know what you did dickhead
alex albon nothing will ever hurt more than the yukierre break up
amelia holland WRONG!! BROCEDES EXISTS
alex albon true
amelia holland AHHHHHH
amelia holland SOMEBODY SEDATE ME!!!
amelia holland THERE'S NO WAY THIS HAPPENING
lando norris WHAT? WHAT'S HAPPENING??
zendaya NO WAY!! CONGRATS AMELIA!!
max verstappen what are we celebrating??
daniel ricciardo why is she so happy? what’s happening? did oscar propose?
tom holland now hold on! he hasn’t even met our parents!
harry holland eh, as long as they don’t have a vegas wedding who cares?
sam holland I CARE DIPSHIT!!
oscar piastri i didn’t propose.
amelia holland GRAMMY NOMINATED BABY!!
amelia holland I, AMELIA GRACE HOLLAND, AM OFFICIALLY A GRAMMY NOMINATED ARTIST!!
charles leclerc CONGRATS AMELIA!!
lando norris LET'S FUCKING GO! THAT'S MY BEST FRIEND!!
tom holland OH MY GOD!!!
tuwaine barrett OH MY GOD!! THIS IS CAUSE FOR CELEBRATION!!
daniel ricciardo PARTY TIME IN VEGAS!!
ameliaholland not a whole lot going on at the moment
tagged: oscarpiastri
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tomholland IS THAT WHY HE TEXTED ME SOS AT THE ASS CRACK OF DAWN??
↳ oscarpiastri I'M SORRY I DIDN'T KNOW ANY BAKERIES IN THE AREA THOMAS
↳ username HE WOKE UP EARLY TO GET HER CAKE AND FLOWERS?? SHUT UP THAT'S SO FUCKING CUTE!!!
username CONGRATS ON THE NOMINATION AMELIA!!
maxverstappen1 i see i've corrupted you on becoming a cat parent
↳ ameliaholland oh shut up, it anything taylor corrupted me
taylorswift congratulations amelia 💙
↳ ameliaholland thank you taylor 💙
username she's and icon. she's a legend. and she is the moment
hazosterfield congragualtions
↳ ameliaholland thank you
↳ username usually in the past she would include a heart
↳ username she has a boyfriend. and some f1 fans are so toxic they'd accuse her of cheating on oscar based off of that
tuwaine this barbie is a grammy nominated artist
↳ ameliaholland tuwaine i swear i'm going to cry again
username not a lot going on? girl you're nominated for a grammy!!
danielricciardo congrats baby holland!
yukitsunoda i was promised a party
oscarpiastri proud of you 🧡
↳ ameliaholland i know, you've told me about 8 times already
↳ oscarpiastri just making sure you know
username what's the kitty's name??
↳ ameliaholland i, of course named her after a taylor swift song. her name is ivy. she adores sleep much like her father oscar.
↳ oscarpiastri lies. slander.
landonorris THAT'S MY FUCKING BEST FRIEND!!
↳ ameliaholland grammy nomination before your first win
↳ landonorris we are no longer best friends
taglist: @six-call @1nt3rnetgf @fernandoswarcrimes @skynel09 @arieltwvdtohamflash @Mimolovescookies @brekkers-whore @natcha888 @camdensreg @mycenterfold @woozarts @dear-fifi @tygecjjd @cataf1 @nothaqks @caipng @nataliambc @formulaal @lichterfee @prongsvault @kaa212 @anxxiousaries @julesbabey1 @julesbabey @georgeparisole @hobiismyhopeu @melissayalene @nikfigueiredo @bella-1 @nichmeddar @namgification @anniemae299 @octopussesarecool @jensonsonlybutton @ragioniera
strikethrough means i couldn't tag you
¡leclerc-s speaks!
let's ignore that the picture says gracie. we have to use our ✨imagination✨ the taglist for this story is officially closed, because i plan on ending this series soon.
¡disclaimer!
this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!
#leclerc-s#the blue series#formula 1#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x female oc#formula 1 fic#fanfic#fanfiction#f1#f1 smau#f1 fic#f1 social media au#f1 instagram au
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Pit Babe 2 Colors Pilot Trailer
The crowd said I have to watch Pit Babe 2 the same way I watched the first season, so here I am starting early and watching the pilot trailer, muted, on double-speed, and without subs.
Wow! This brought back all the memories and emotions quickly, like being mad at Jeffrey for wearing blue AND red (this little son of bitch!). You're lucky my man loves you.
But I'm not as mad at Charles for wearing his blue while incorporating Barbie's black (and white too, Charles . . . okay)
Oh, and I'm thrilled Vegas' Hedgehog and Southwest Airlines FINALLY understood the group color-coding assignment and wore the right effin' colors for once!
And that Kimberly is fully invested in his new squad with his matching colors and blue.
Thank goodness everyone got blue flower bouquets for Way (WHO AIN'T DEAD!) including Peter who got the bluest set.
And I LOVED that the trouble showed up in their respective colors: Whiny Winifred is still red and a little bitch, Dean may have betrayed his family, but I think he is still loyal to the blue,
Kenta is still brooding in black
AND WAYMOND IS BACK IN BLACK TOO!
But I'm very worried about Big Red showing up in white because either he has seen the light and turned good, or he is actually dead, and he will be haunting the season, as in possessing someone.
Like maybe a super Alpha . . .
WHO CAN ABSORB POWERS!
Is Charlie really wearing white and Barbie's black, or someone else's colors?
DON'T LET HIM TOUCH YOU, BARBIE!
#pit babe#pit babe 2#pit babe the series#the colors mean things#and they guided me the whole way through season one#so they'll guide me through season two#color coded boys in love#pilot trailer#Give me poly this time around!#I'm rooting even harder for 'PETE HAS TWO HANDS!'#these colors were still serving an entire feast#I actually missed this!
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If you ask me (no one did), the skills competition was exactly what we should have expected. Letting Connor McDavid design/influence/dictate/whatever the structure of the competition was always going to result in a pretty sterile, whimsy-less experience. I mean, we've all seen his house, right?
I'm sure that he thinks this was a great move and that everyone has enjoyed it as much as he did. And he clearly did enjoy it. If he likes it, it must be good and everyone agrees.
But this is not how you grow the game.
I don't want to watch GIFs of Leon failing at the accuracy shootout or Kucherov just gritting his teeth against each new embarrassment. I want to see the players having fun, showing personality, messing around in between events.
This is only my third all star weekend. But do you know what I really missed? Seeing the players hanging out, letting their kids on the ice, laughing with each other. I want them to be visibly enjoying themselves rather than sitting in their designated seats, waiting for the next round of McDavid's Trials.
So. Here's what I think they should do, in no particular order:
Split the competition into "cumulative" and "solo" events. Let Connor keep his Trials but interspersed with more fun events.
Half the players do the Trials and half the players do the more gimmicky events. This gives both groups a chance to recover more between events.
Involve all the players who are at the weekend. Last night was a wash of blue jerseys and Pastrňák.
Pare down the Trials. That was too many dry events.
Let the goalies compete in something they don't usually do. Hell, let them compete in events usually reserved for skaters! Get them involved rather than just using them as props.
Don't bow to the desires of one man who is afraid of fun.
Mandatory dunk tank event.
Undoubtedly, there are people who really enjoyed just seeing a straight skills comp. I just think we can have it both ways. The Florida and Vegas events competitions had character and joy in them. We deserve joy. We deserve giffable moments. We deserve Mikko Rantanen in a sopping wet t-shirt.
#nhl asg 2024#nhl all star 2024#my reach on hockeyblr is very limited so I don't expect this to get any attention#i just wanted to expel the demon of discontent within me
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If I outline what the fuck i wanna see in my self indulgent au will it give me the kick in the ass to write it.
Obviously relative spoiler/high notes/plot points below
The premise is, so far, nobody has seen where Simon lives. As far as they- they being Gaz, Soap, and Price- know he has a flat in Manchester.
Well leaving base one night(ish, time negotiable), the road they were all taking in their separate vehicles is closed due to a nasty accident. Gonna be blocked for 24 hours kinda mess.
So Ghost offers to let them all stay at his place, if only for a bit or the night if they prefer
Everyone just kinda. Well this isn't what we were expecting but alright. So they follow his car, it's pissing down rain and you can't see shit before you but the tail lights you're following but they've committed and by the time they pull off the road they're fuckin nowhere. House is fairly isolated, separate garage building, coop in the backyard, and a thatch roof cottage. Whose Nan's attic is Simon living in???
Except, not a random old biddie. Just a random fat American?? It's obvious they're familiar enough with each other, giving each other shit and that there's a whole "you got back from a mission here is our you came home routine"
Whole mess. The group stays the night because now they're nosy and wanna find out what the relationship is. You both say roommates. They don't wholly believe that.
Simon and roomie sleep downstairs, he can't sleep in a bed yet after the mission and roomie makes sure there's enough background noise that he doesn't snap into combat mode everything is about to go to shit.
Next morning roomie and Simon team up to make a hodge podge of all kinds of breakfast food and between them all there are no leftovers. Concerns are had if everyone ate enough (and then biscuits and gravy settled).
Its back to routine and roomie goes out to grocery shop to stock back up on "i need to feed myself and a whole ass army dude" levels of food and snackies.
While Simon is trying to get Soap and Gaz to stop making excuses to stick around (all good-natured fun) there is a call. Roomie prefaces this with they're fine!!! But uh. They did get hit by a car. A bit. Enough that there has to be a report. Come get the groceries?
And this is the part where they find out Simon and roomie are married. Have been for y e a r s. Technically the town knows them under roomie's last name as a couple.
After the dust is settled and everyone is back at the cottage the explaining happens. Yes, they're married. Vegas happened. It's been a long time and they kinda glossed over the whole "he's a dead man" legal bit for it. Roomie still gets married rights. How do you think he has a lease as a dead man roomie legitimately wants to know. The cottage is in their name, his isn't on it to keep it all off the record if people come knocking for him.
(He does actually have a Manchester flat, though. Landlord takes cash payments however many months at a time and doesn't ask questions. Roomie gets mail from it every once in a blue moon.)
Relationship is largely "we're married but for tax benefits"esque because they're both some flavor of ace. If he's in town roomie checks on if he wants to go to the Saturday munches or not but that's sir not appearing in this fic.
But yeah. Just fun self indulgence.
Could go write the Vegas bit. Write work "being brought home". Bonding activities. List of things for when he retires. Potentially kidnapping. S o many fun options but I just. Gotta write it.
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Adventures in Bravo-Sitting
Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Babysitter!Reader (f!Reader probably? Can be gn!Reader for now)
Rating/Warning: Just some language! Words that rhyme with certain swears. Me being a menace. You know how it goes.
A/N: Okay so this is for @blueeyesatnight who just went a on a Dieter/Babysitter journey with me and inspired me to crank this fic out in two days. Haven't written a fucking thing except a fic I won't post and THIS. Blue, you're the best and Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas (if you celebrate) and thank you so much for the inspo! Our Dieter/Babysitter thread is my favorite thing and also if you wanna write some of these two or your own version PLEASE DO IT. I encourage it! Much love to you.
To anyone else who may read this: thanks for sticking around and checking this not beta'd dumpster fire. I have no clue what this is. It came out of my brain and onto the page in a frenzy. But it's fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine. Enjoy! And Happy Holidays!
You are terribly confused.
"We know this is highly unconventional."
Well, that's putting it mildly.
"In all honesty, I've seen weirder." A nightmare child smearing his feces all over the baking appliances and a cake his mother had made takes the trophy as of now. Though this situation is a close second.
The woman, Amanda, smiles at you - relief flooding her features. She readjusts herself on the ridiculously fancy chair she's sitting on. Behind her, a small cluster of people in suits and business skirts gather. And between Amanda and the group? A man. Well, not man. Celebrity. A celebrity who seems to be grumbling something close to the words “ducking shooshes”.
You never thought you'd end up babysitting Dieter Bravo but, you guess, things could be weirder.
"Can I just...ask...um...why does a grown man need a babysitter?"
Dieter rolls his eyes and cuts in, "I don't."
Amanda talks over him, "I'm sure you've seen the...incidents...on the Cliff Beasts set."
You nod. "Absolutely, who hasn't? A drug overdose, quickie marriage, annulment - all within the span of a year. And the giant bender in Vegas with the showgirl last month? It's been all over the news."
Amanda nods, tension lining her face. Behind her, Dieter rolls his eyes again.
"It wasn't that bad."
Amanda finally graces Dieter with an irritated glance. Her voice raises slightly, “Not that bad, Dee?? You almost destroyed the MGM Grand’s lobby, casino, and the penthouse suite you were staying in! That showgirl almost lost an eye!”
Dieter rolls his neck back to face the ceiling, “Yeah, but she didn’t. She was fun,” he chuckles. “Liked to party. We still got her number?”
You see a vein throb in Amanda’s forehead. You’re not quite sure if you should butt into their conversation. Amanda grips the planner she holds so tightly, her knuckles begin to turn white.
“No, Dee. We don’t have her number. You know, since she ALMOST LOST AN EYE??”
Dieter sighs. “Oh my god, she was fine. It was safe. I was totally able to handle that machete. That lobby guy was just scared.”
You raise an eyebrow.
Amanda fires back, “He was the manager!!! And you were swinging a machete at one of his showgirls!”
“I wasn’t gonna hurt her, god it’s like you think I’m irresponsible or something.”
Oh god what have you gotten yourself into???
You reach down and attempt to subtly get your belongings. You’ve decided you want no part in…whatever this is. To your utter disappointment, you’re apparently not subtle enough. Amanda’s eyes dart to where your hand is resting on the strap of your bag. Her eyes widen just a fraction in desperation.
“I know we’re not giving the best impression here. But I promise, this is going to be a very rewarding experience. Dieter is special!”
She had said that on the phone too, but it was your fault you had misinterpreted it. Dieter clearly is special just…not in the way you were expecting. He’s special in a super-fuckin-entitled-wealthy way.
You swallow and your eyes dart to Dieter, who hasn’t looked at you once since this whole meet and greet started.
“Listen, Amanda, I’m really flattered that you and your…” You peter off, realizing the entire group of people behind her are now listening to you basically say no to this insane job. Are they really surprised you’re not interested in this?
You clear your throat and continue, “team…want me to do this. I just don’t quite think I’m what you’re looking for.”
Amanda looks behind her at a gentleman in a neatly pressed suit. He leans forward and whispers something in her ear. She nods, and turns back to you. Dieter remains absorbed in the ceiling.
“Alright,” Amanda starts, “how about I show you what your pay would look like and we’ll take it from there? Maybe we could do a trial run if the amount is to your liking?”
Dieter snorts. “It’ll be to her liking, I’m loaded.”
Amanda rolls her eyes. Despite that, she keeps her focus on you. “Well?” She asks.
You sigh. You know you’re caught between a rock and hard place. Money? Or no money? Well, even if this job isn’t what you necessarily thought it would be, it couldn’t hurt to look at the amount. Why the hell not?
You shrug. “Sure,” you reply back to Amanda. “I guess looking at the number can’t hurt.”
She smiles and nods, turning to confer with the gentleman behind her again. They whisper to each other for a few minutes before Amanda turns back to you.
“Okay! I just want to clarify that we’ll be starting with a trial run of a week. If just you, or both you and Dieter-”
He snorts at his name. Amanda studiously ignores him and continues on.
“Are interested in keeping this arrangement going, we’ll re-discuss and go from there. Is that amenable to you?”
You nod. “Sounds good to me.”
Amanda smiles widely, looking truly relieved for the first time since you stepped into the room.
“Great!” She replies. She reaches behind her to grab a small piece of paper from the suited gentleman (who is he???) and hands it over to you. You surreptitiously glance over at Dieter. For the first time, you find his eyes on you. You shiver slightly. His eyes sparkle with…something.
You look back down at the folded piece of paper in your hands. You’re more nervous than you thought you’d be. You open it slightly and see the number written down.
WOW that’s a LOT of zeroes! Holy crap.
You look at Amanda.
“Trial run it is.”
P.S. Banners by @firefly-graphics
Tags:
@grampsgirl14
@apsiringghostmusicians
Anyone else want a tag? Lemme know!
#dieter bravo#dieter bravo x reader#pedro pascal#dieter bravo fanfiction#dieter bravo fanfic#dieter bravo fic#fanfiction#fic#blueeyesatnight
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feel so close
summary: lewis hamilton x reader
You meet Lewis at the club after the Las Vegas launch.
content: 18+!!!! general m/f sex acts. established relationship. let me know if u want anything else flagged!
word count: 1k+
You’re late, flights and traffic and the heady crush of Vegas. By the time you’re pushing through the club, your phone is a mess of texts and calls from Lewis, each more garbled by the last. He’s started just sending you your own name in capitals and a strange string of emojis, heavily featuring hearts and dancing figures. You give your name to the burly man guarding the VIP section, and then there’s an assistant leading you through the maze of dancers and sponsors and various people from the launch until you’re bursting out between a group to Lewis, a pink drink in his hand matching the flush on his cheeks.
You see his mouth form your name, can’t hear him over the music, laugh as he crushes you into his chest. He’s lost his jacket, smells like sweat and vodka and cologne, the drink dangerously close to tipping down your back as he nuzzles into the side of your face.
“Here you are!” Lewis is saying, and you know you’re missing parts of sentences as he stumbles back from you and then close again, a dopey grin on his face and eyes glazed. He looks so happy. It makes your chest fill up, all full and content, pleased that he’s pleased.
“Here I am,” you tell him, gratefully take the drink he’s offering a try of. It’s sweet and strong, fizzing on your tongue. People move around you in one big pull and push, dancing and talking and laughing. You’re aware of people calling him, trying to tug him away, get his attention, but Lewis is centred on you, urging you to finish his drink, torn between trying to kiss you again and find you your own cocktail.
By the bar, you have to turn away from him, let his face find your jaw, neck.
“Stop,” you say, pushing his face away, but he just licks over your palm, laughing, and there’s no bite to your scolding. It’s dangerous to be like this, so many people around, anyone could see. You want to keep this to yourself, just for a bit longer, this special, private thing with him. But then you’re taking a tequila shot, licking the salt off Lewis’ wrist and sucking on a lime, leaning into the hot press of his body, and nothing really matters anymore.
The night takes on the heady blur of intoxication and the joy of being surrounded by people having a good time, the pound of music, Lewis’s arm slung around you as he introduces you to his friends. Everyone knows who you are already, tease him and hug you, and you feel yourself falling into the group, enveloped within them, already a part of it. You love Lewis like this, drunk and lazy and happy, stupid dance moves and this big, lovely grin on his face, shining eyes. Up on the stage with him, jumping and laughing and letting your body do whatever it wants to do, carried by the familiar thump of club hits. Every so often, you catch people holding phones up, pointing, filming, but the liquor has kicked in, and Lewis is so happy, it’s easy to look away, let him drag you in, let him grind into you and lick into your mouth. He shoves his cap on your head, insists on taking what must be an incredibly badly lit photo of you on his phone. The black material of his t-shirt clings to him, skin shining with sweat and joy and your touch. The night runs on and you lose yourself to it, the music, the laughter, the friends, and Lewis, grinning at you, never not beside you.
Time isn’t anything. Nothing is real. The lights flash blue and purple and green and you’re anonymous and Lewis is no one. Just you and him. Moving to the beat, pressed in close, skin sliding. Everything is electrically perfect. A sliding, dizzy moment that goes impossibly on and on. You feel intrinsically connected to everyone in the room. Lewis takes a shot and licks the chaser out of your mouth. You surrender to it, to him, to everything.
Saying goodbye, hugging everyone you can see, trying not to blush under the knowledge that you’re going back with Lewis, that everyone knows, that he’s chosen you, he wants you. You can feel people watching, knowing, seeing, but it feels good, like this, pride. His big arm around around your shoulders, his hat on your head, the way he rubs his face on yours. You want to devour him. Lick the salt off his skin, the alcohol out of his mouth, hold him down and watch him come apart. He keeps looking at you with this heavy, dazed look, like he’s already there in his head.
The hotel is just down the Strip, the fresh air cool on your cheeks as you hurry down the street, bumping into each other, tripping on nothing and laughing too loud. At somewhere past the half way point, Lewis guides you into an alley, the shadow of a building, gets you between his body and the wall, kisses you until you can’t think, can’t speak. He makes lovely, soft sounds into your mouth, has his big hand around your throat, the other spanning your waist, holding you to him so you can feel where he’s hard against your belly.
“You make me,” Lewis is panting, pausing between words to kiss you again, like he can’t put a thought together without it, “I don’t fucking know what it is. Crazy. Make me crazy.”
“You’re drunk,” you tell him, even as the words feel big and lazy in your mouth from your own intoxication.
“Doesn’t matter,” he says, kisses you again, licking behind your teeth, laughs when he steps away and you sway forward, grasping for him.
“Come on,” Lewis says, tugging you back out into the street, “We gotta get back before I lose it and just fuck you on the street.”
You barely notice the hotel room, it’s dark shapes and the floor to ceiling windows. You feel innocent in a strangely lovely way, wiped clean, stood by the bed with him, undressing, giggling, stumbling out of socks. Lewis is hard and flushed, standing off his body, a silhouetted figure in the city lights, the wide span of his shoulders, angles of his hips, muscles of his legs.
“Fuck,” you say, just looking at him, laugh at your own delight, let him wrestle you onto the bed, clumsy and warm and pretending to get away and not wanting to at all.
Lewis is drunk, and endearingly so. Clumsy in a way he isn’t, usually, and so ready to laugh and tease and kiss. Rubs his hands down your body, spreads your legs for him so he can lick hot and wet, spit into the centre of you. Your fingers twist into his hair, his eyes half lidded looking up your body. Folds his arms over your hips so you can’t move, steady movement of his tongue over you and into you. The alcohol numbs sound, thoughts, embarrassments, so you don’t care when you groan, writhe up into his arms, pull at his hair. Everything is so overwhelming in the best way, feeling him drool over you, bite at the inside of your thighs and tell you how good you taste, how he can’t wait to get in you.
Giggling as he crawls up your body, kneeling on you accidentally, his hasty apology, brow furrowed with concern until you smooth it out. His cock is throbbing against your belly, leaking wet on your skin.
“It’s okay,” you tell him, for the third time, taking him into your hand so he keens and curls over into your neck, laving his tongue over the tendon in your throat. You thumb over the head, just to hear the sweet, wounded sound he makes, vibrating into your skin. Notching him where you’re open and wet from his mouth, the blunt tip of him pushing through, spreading you.
“Oh, God, oh, God, Lewis, fuck,” you say, head tossed back into the pillows, Lewis’ forehead pressed to yours so you can swallow his breath as he sinks home, groans into you. It feels like he’s touching every part of you, everywhere, his body laid out over yours, his cock so deep, taking you, having you. You want to cry, dragging him into a kiss, biting at him.
It’s messy and fast and feverish, one leg over his shoulder as he fucks into you, harsh snaps of his hips that you feel all over, no need to be quiet, no need to slow it down. His rhythm is sloppy, but it only makes it more addictive, more overwhelming, knowing he wants it so bad, that he wants you so bad.
“Baby, you feel so good, fucking. Amazing,” Lewis says, his body slick with sweat, his breathing shallow and raspy, and he’s grinning, laughing, eyes all crinkled up and teeth white and sharp. You tangle your hand in his hair, wrap yourself up in him, come with a shout, delirious and drunk and vibrating with the joy of it all.
He fucks you through it, trying to hold himself steady, his chain dragging over your collarbones, but his hand is a fist in the sheets beside your head, his chest heaving.
“I’m,” he says, but he’s coming already, rutting into you, jaw slack and eyes screwed shut, moaning all ragged and breathless.
“Fuck,” he pants into your mouth, hips jerking through the aftershocks, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
He’s heavy and solid above you, still kissing you, smoothing your hair off your damp face. You blink up at him, smiling so big your face hurts.
Things are spinning but Lewis is at the centre, sprawled out on the bed with you, a tangle of white sheets and limbs. His big hand anchored on your belly, insisting on lying all pressed up against you despite the heat of your bodies. He keeps laughing at nothing, and when you ask why he smiles this soft, secret way and says, “I’m just happy.”
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𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠
nonidol!kim mingyu x fem!reader
3.1k words, mingyu is convinced that he is forever stuck with unrequited love when it comes to you, cursing, pining, angst, fluff, it's literally SO cheesy at the end im sorry T_T
a/n: omg @ethereal-engene i did it skxnsoxo tbh not exactly what i had envisioned but 🤧
"I am going insane!"
Minghao and Seokmin watched as Kim Mingyu buried his face in his hands, dark hair a mess from the hundred or so times he had yanked at the strands. He sat across his fellow 97s, the name of the group that the three of them, plus you, made up. Except, you were missing, and probably for the best.
Mingyu grumbled, "I don't see what I'm doing wrong."
A waiter came by and set down servings of takoyaki and edamame, both of which cost too much to really just be appetizers. Minghao had nearly cringed—no, actually, he did cringe (right in front of the waiter)—at the prices. What was the point of coming to Vegas? To spend money, apparently. Just not on the floor of a casino, but in the booth of a four-dollar sign Japanese restaurant on the top floor of the Cosmopolitan.
"You're not doing anything wrong," Seokmin assured him with a small wince as Mingyu pouted so deeply at the table, he swore the table was about to apologize for being an inanimate object. Seokmin delicately plucked a pod of edamame from the porcelain bowl with his chopsticks, bringing it to his lips to take a small bite.
Mingyu, however, went straight for a ball of fried squid and shoved the entire thing into his mouth. Minghao froze in concern and surprise, his chopsticks stopped midair. Okay, so maybe this was getting a little out of hand.
The issue was you. Well, you were not necessarily the issue, per se. It was your total lack of response and your obliviousness to Mingyu's attempted advancements. It was your closeness to Minghao and Seokmin, but not to Mingyu. It was Mingyu posting a thirst trap about half an hour ago and getting nothing but a like from you.
He was very choked up about it, if one could not tell. He had forced Minghao to fill his camera roll with pictures of Mingyu seated in a dark, fitted button up, while subtly flexing his triceps (because he remembered that once you had commented about sculpted arms being really hot). He had actually been satisfied with the output, too.
Until he opened the notification from Instagram that said that you only liked the post. No comment whatsoever.
"Listen… buddy." Minghao placed his hand over Mingyu's when he reached for another piece of takoyaki. Both of his cheeks were stuffed with fried squid and distress. "Chill, okay? She likes all of our stuff. Doesn't mean she doesn't like you."
Mingyu swallowed his food. "That's where you're wrong," he stated with a matter-of-fact tone and complimentary finger raised. "See, she actually comments on your guys' posts." He took out his phone now, scrolling through Instagram to find pieces of evidence to back up his claim.
(Minghao and Seokmin traded nervous glances. This man was really about to pull out the whole conspiracy board to "prove" that you had something against him and he would be stuck with unrequited love for the rest of his life.)
"You really don't—"
"Au contraire." Mingyu began going through both Minghao and Seokmin's individual Instagram accounts to point out your comments on their posts. From the stupid, memeable moments to the Thirst Traps™, you could always be found in the comments. Seokmin even had some of your comments pinned. Y'know, just to make it so much more obvious.
Okay, so perhaps it was reasonable to see why Mingyu might have thought you hated him.
"Maybe you just make her speechless," Seokmin suggested with a small shrug of his shoulders.
"But not even an emoji? A keyboard smash? Anything?"
Minghao's light blue tinted glasses slipped down the slope of his nose so he peered over them at his friend. "You don't comment on her things either."
"T-that's because she doesn't!" Mingyu stammered. "I used to—you know I used to!"
Seokmin added, "He still gives a little keyboard smash and heart-eyed emoji every once in a while."
Mingyu gestured to Seokmin, eyes wide in gratitude. "See?"
Minghao sighed. If only they'd seen yours and his private messages. Mingyu wouldn't be complaining about emojis and keyboard smashes then. You had practically combusted over text when you'd seen Mingyu's most recent post. The only reason why it hadn't been over FaceTime like every other time was because Minghao was currently with Mingyu, and even Minghao felt bad about exposing you. (You were just that embarrassing.)
But at this rate, both of you were going to end up hurting each other if he didn't step in.
"Well," Hao said, "we're gonna go pick her up from the airport tomorrow, so why don't you confront her about it then, hm?" Tch, like that was going to happen.
Seokmin piped up, "Oh yeah! And there's that benefit gala tomorrow night! You should get her to dance with you or something." Ha, like that would happen either.
Mingyu pursed his lips, slumping against the booth. "I don't know, guys. We'll just see."
Minghao and Seokmin looked at each other. Tomorrow was going to be rough if they didn't do something.
It was a disgusting eight in the morning when your plane touched down in the Las Vegas airport. The three 97s stood in the main terminal, where baggage claim was, waiting for you. Minghao looked close enough to dropping dead, a pair of dark shades covering the purple bags beneath his eyes and a big bucket hat over his nest of hair. Seokmin, as per usual, was quite alive, having inhaled a cup of coffee with two shots of espresso. And then there was Mingyu, anxiously awaiting your arrival while his foot tapped against the linoleum like Thumper.
You would arrive on that escalator in less than five minutes, according to your text to the group chat. Mingyu stared laser beams at the twin escalators, until he watched you roll up to the top with your dark blue carry-on suitcase.
Oh, good god.
If Mingyu could direct a movie, he would do it just like how you looked now. Your hair hung slightly frazzled from the flight, your body fitted in a simple T-shirt and shorts to accommodate Vegas's warm weather. You also wore a black crossbody bag, and to his utter delight, the cute puppy plush keychain he got you five months ago hung from the zipper. With a graceful flourish, you brushed the hair from your eyes—
"Oh my god, he looks straight out of a cartoon." Seokmin's eyes glittered in teasing as he nudged Mingyu with his elbow.
Minghao lifted a hand in lazy greeting, a small smirk coming to his lips. "Hey Yn."
You had landed at the foot of the escalator, and you grinned, racing toward the three of them with your suitcase dragging behind you. "Hi!"
You crashed into Seokmin first, ditching your suitcase and letting it roll where it may. The two of you bursted into a fit of giggles, Seokmin holding you tight and spinning you around. "I can't believe you're finally here!" Seokmin exclaimed with barely concealed excitement.
"Me too," you said once he set you down. "I thought the flight was gonna be late, but it all worked out." You spotted Minghao, turning your attention to him. "Hey, Hao."
"Hey," he said once more, bringing you close in a side hug.
Mingyu had grabbed your suitcase while Seokmin was hugging you. His heart thundered in his ears, unable to fully meet your eyes or bring himself to greet you like Seokmin had, even if he wanted to. "Hi, Ynie."
"Hi Gyu," you smiled. "Oh, you don't have to get my suitcase—"
"No, no!" He said quickly. "It's okay; I got it." The two of you smiled at each other, bashfully really, in the only form of communication both of you could manage to produce when it came to the other.
Minghao bumped his head against Seokmin's shoulder. "Lord, save me."
Seokmin chuckled, patting his head. He swept you away with an arm around your shoulder. "Come on, Ynie! We got you a Ferrari to escort you to the hotel!"
"A Ferrari—!?"
Mingyu exhaled, staring after you with an ill concealed pout. Minghao sighed—shook his head. "Well, come on now. I don't think you want to be stuck in the backseat again."
There would always be things that you were scared of. One of those things just happened to be the massive charity gala beginning downstairs in one of the big ass conference rooms at the Bellagio. It was named Monet 1 or something... or 2. You couldn't really remember; maybe you'd text Minghao and ask.
The boys—your big group of friends (there was a healthy thirteen of them)—had invited you to suffer at this gala with them. To entice you, they had offered to fly you out and put you up in a luxury suite at the Bellagio, one of the most recognizable resorts on the Las Vegas Strip. Obviously, you couldn't resist.
Really, you couldn't. You'd been meaning to find an excuse to take a break from work. (And to see your best friends, of course.)
You stared at yourself—critiqued yourself, really—in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom. You had chosen to bring along a simple, black satin dress with a slit up your right leg and a cowl neckline. It was going to be super plain compared to the others at the gala, but you liked it. At least, you thought you liked it.
There came a rapping at the door, and you hiked up the hem of the dress so you could scurry to the door. You opened it at the sight of Seokmin on the other side of it. "Hey," you said, letting him in.
Seokmin wore a dark blue suit, his hair swept back nice and neat. His eyes glimmered in delight as he stepped into your room. "You look nice."
"Oh, thanks. You too." You shuffled back into your room, while Seokmin collapsed onto the couch with a breathy exhale.
"You're nervous, aren't you?" He sang with a teasing tone. "Why're you nervous, Ynie?"
You frowned at yourself in the bathroom mirror, pulling a comb through your curls to loosen up the tight ringlets. "Rich people," was all you said. Once satisfied, you fitted your earlobes with a pair of white gold and diamond hoop earrings, along with a slim silver watch. You slipped on one, two sterling silver rings, one topped with a small garnet stone and another tied in a knot.
"Doki, should I wear a necklace?" You called to him.
"Yeah, sure! Wear that red swarovski crystal one!"
You furrowed your brows as you searched through the small jewelry box you had brought with you. "The one, uh, Mingyu got me two years ago?"
A beat of silence. "How do you just remember that off the top of your head?"
Your cheeks colored in the mirror and you fished the scarlet red teardrop necklace from the box. "Dunno." You remembered because, well, how could you forget?
The necklace shimmered in the bathroom lights as the gemstone tested against your chest. It was simple, but classy. You tried a smile in the mirror, shifting your hair, fixing your posture… it would have to do. You were already late as it was.
With a sigh, you hurried out of the bathroom and picked up your purse, dumping things that you needed into it. "Okay, I'm ready!" You exclaimed as you strode into the living room, purse and shoes in hand.
Seokmin twisted around on the couch, a low whistle falling from his lips. He grinned. "Aw, you clean up so nice, Ynie. You look good."
You smiled, a small one, but a smile nonetheless. "Thank you," you said. You really meant it; you really needed it.
He stood up and helped you into your shoes, then the two of you walked arm in arm out the door.
"Oh, actually, Hao wanted the 97s to meet at the rooftop before we all went to the gala together. Something about pictures," Seokmin said flippantly with a flick of his wrist. The two of you stopped at the elevator together and he jammed the up button.
That's a good idea, you thought to yourself. And very Minghao of him.
But when you had walked into the elevator carriage, Seokmin suddenly slammed his hand on the top floor button and slipped out of the elevator.
You gaped at him through the closing doors. "Wait! Dokyeom?"
He beamed, lifting his right hand up in salute. "Sorry, forgot my phone in my room!"
Your eyes spotted the phone in his left hand just as the elevator doors closed shut and sent you all the way up to the top floor. What the hell? You cocked your head to the side in thought. Weird. Why did Seokmin need to stay back if he clearly had his phone with him?
It would be fine. You'd meet him up on the roof then.
The doors of the elevator slowly slid open, revealing to you the gorgeous skyline of the Strip at night. Lights from the surrounding hotels and establishments glowed rainbow in your eyes and the Bellagio fountain laid dormant for the time being. The show would erupt at the top of the hour.
You shivered, rubbing your hands over your arms as you stepped out onto the rooftop and made your way to the edge. People milled about below you like little ants, all of whom came from different places around the world, brought together by this city.
"Yn?"
You lifted your head up in surprise and watched Mingyu walk toward you from around one of the domed roofs. His eyes were wide as they trailed down your figure, stopping at the necklace seated on your sternum and gulping.
And you? Well, you couldn't stop staring either. Mingyu was fitted in a crisp, black suit, tailored perfectly to his broad form. The dim lighting cast a shadow over the hard, sculpted planes of his face, like one of those marble statues in Greece. He just looked so… there were no words to describe how beautiful this man was to you. And that beauty was intimidating sometimes.
Because who could ever be worthy enough for him? Certainly not you, right?
He licked his lips, coming closer. "So, uh, I'm guessing Seokmin sent you up?"
You nodded. Boom, boom, boom. Was that your heart beat or some club nearby? "Yup. Hao?"
He bobbed his head with a tight smile. "Yeah."
You reached up and fiddled with the necklace. "I don't think they're coming."
"Yeah, I don't think so either."
The two of you turned to the view, your hands bracing against the marble railing. It was thick enough where you didn't think you could just fall, but it was still a long way down.
You could feel the warmth radiating from Mingyu's body, could predict the tension in his shoulders, because you were just as tense. Why were you even up here? What were they trying to make the both of you do?
(You know, Yn. You know so damn well.)
"Can I ask you something?" You asked, voice small.
Mingyu nodded, gesturing for you to go on. "Of course."
You swallowed. "Are you ever afraid of falling?" You asked, eyes flickering from the drop to Mingyu.
He shrugged his shoulders, gesturing to the railing. "Like, off this building? Yeah, sure—"
"No, I mean…" you shook your head, laughing at the ridiculousness of your thoughts. "This is gonna sound stupid."
"It's not stupid," Mingyu refuted, but you could see the sincerity in his expression. "You're never stupid, Yn."
You were going to either Hail Mary it off this roof or dive headfirst into those dark irises of his. You sucked in a breath, "Okay uhm, are you ever… afraid of falling in love?"
You didn't expect him to reply so quickly.
"Not when it's you."
Wait. "What?"
Mingyu raked a hand through his hair, mouth pursed. He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, trying to scramble for the right words while you stood there, eyes wide and waiting. He'd been waiting so long for this chance, this moment—rehearsing and imagining possible scenarios and what speeches he would say. But here went absolutely nothing.
"I'm scared of falling, but not when it's you, Yn."
Thundering heartbeat, dilated eyes—god, you could not fall any faster and harder for this man. "Mingyu—"
"I understand if you don't feel the same," he cut in, eyes flitting away, but then returning back to you. Always back to you. "I just had to tell you, after all this time, that I'm in love with you."
You shook your head, and Mingyu could feel the world falling out from under his feet. Of course. Of course you didn't feel the same. Oh my god, he was an idiot—
"You didn't let me finish," you said, fingers dancing on the marble like the pattern of your heart rate. "Mingyu, I'm in love with you, too."
The weight of the confession lifted from your shoulders and from your chest. You finally said it.
A beat passed. Both you and Mingyu broke out into breathless laughter, tinted in nervous, jittery energy; yet it was relieving and refreshing like the night air.
"Oh god, thank god," Mingyu grinned, biting his lip. "You—you have no idea how that makes me feel. Oh my god." He held out his hand to you, and like second nature, you gave your hand to him.
He looked at you in the eyes, slowly raising your hand to his lips, his fingers then running delicately over your knuckles. He placed the palm of your hand firmly over his chest, where his heart beat ran marathons beneath your fingertips. "You're beautiful. Did you know that? Because if you didn't, I'll remind you of it every day."
Mingyu cleared his throat. "If you'd let me."
You nodded, turning your hand so you could lace your fingers with his. You liked the feel of it, the weight of it. It felt right. "I'd love that, but only if you'd let me do the same for you."
And you watched his cheekbones color pink in the night, yellow and white light illuminating that blush just enough. He chuckled, ducking his head bashfully. "That sounds really nice."
You stepped into his embrace then, feeling his warmth around you and wondering how you had gotten to this moment. (Yeah, you knew it was Seokmin and Minghao's doing, but you weren't about to admit that just yet.) Falling was terrifying—tumbling into the unknown, fearing the moment you reached the bottom—but with the wind rushing through your hair as you fell, the only thing that made you tuck your arms in and pull yourself faster was the knowledge that someone would be at the bottom to catch you.
Had you known that Mingyu would always be there, then perhaps you wouldn't have had such a fear of falling.
svt m.list
permanent taglist: @tayunji @im-a-big-mess @staysstrays @y3jiishot @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @yedammi @rnjfy @jaehunny1428 @mythicalamphitrite @ana-is-losing-her-mind @super-btstrash-posts @otchae @luv4vernon @ashxxkook @thesunsfullmoon
#seventeen x reader#kim mingyu#kim mingyu x reader#mingyu x reader#seventeen mingyu#mingyu oneshot#mingyu fluff#mingyu imagines#mingyu angst#seventeen fluff#seventeen imagines#seventeen oneshot#clovers.write
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could you, please, write a silly fluff in which austin implies that he has a crush on the actress who co-starred with him in elvis, and everyone (including reader) believes he is talking about olivia, when in fact he is talking about reader, who played Dixie
‘These Arms Of Mine’
warnings: angst, fluff
a/n: thanks for this cute request, darling anon! I’m sorry this turned out a little more angsty than I’m sure you had in mind. But my mind truly couldn’t help going there with the subject matter. I hope that’s ok and I hope you like it!
-
It’s a known fact that you have a secret crush on Austin Butler. Which technically makes it not a secret. But only a handful of people know and they’ve been sworn to secrecy. When you were cast in the role of Dixie Locke, Elvis’s first girlfriend, in Baz Luhrmann’s biopic, you found yourself face-to-face with the most confounding man you’d ever been in a room with. Austin Butler was quiet and shy. Tall and lanky, his hands always fidgeting with his clothes or pulling at his bottom lip. Dark hair slicked back, blue eyes silently observing and taking in the world around him. He always spoke softly and only when spoken to. He was polite, almost to a fault, with a “yes, ma’am” or “no, sir” always on the tip of his tongue. He was completely dedicated and fully immersed into Elvis and his life. In fact, by the time you met him, he was Elvis. Not Vegas Elvis, of jumpsuit and glitter fame. Not Movie Elvis either, slick and polished and cheeky. He was young Elvis - slightly unsure of himself and finding his footing in a strange, new world.
He was also scared out of his mind. You could see it in the way his pulse beat quickly beneath his jaw during a particularly intense rehearsal. The way his hands shook when turning a page of dialogue he was memorizing. Or the dark circles that plagued his under-eyes, Austin himself once confessing to a small group on set that he was only getting a couple of hours sleep each night. You didn’t know how he did it - carry this massive weight of responsibility on his broad but thin shoulders. Anyone else would have buckled under such pressure. But not Austin. You saw him rise to the occasion again and again, giving his all, going above and beyond. Everyone on set could tell that this was something different. Something special. Lightening in a bottle.
You tried to push away your feelings for him, you really did. It wasn’t professional. It wasn’t reasonable. It wasn’t possible. You knew this. You had seen the way Austin looked at Olivia when they rehearsed a scene. Or laughed together in between takes. Or when they left the set together one night, thinking no one saw. But you did. And it broke your heart a tiny little bit. He trusted her and it seemed like he needed someone to trust. He looked so lost and alone most of the time, in his own world. Elvis’s world. All you really wanted to do was take him in your arms and hold him forever. Let him rest his weary head on your shoulder and stroke his hair. Whisper to him that everything was going to be ok. You did your best to keep a bright smile plastered on your face, even though being near him ripped you to pieces, bit by bit, every day.
One morning halfway through filming, just as you were about to step into the makeup trailer, you heard hushed voices from inside and paused, not wanting to interrupt anything important. You recognized the timber of Austin’s voice immediately, which made your heart beat wildly. It was rare you crossed paths in here, as he had his own team dedicated solely to his hair and makeup. Something made you stay outside, listening. You really shouldn’t have but you couldn’t help it.
“I don’t know…it’s just a feeling I get whenever I’m around her, you know? It’s like that thing of feeling that you’ve known someone a long time, right? Which is crazy. But I can’t shake the feeling that…I don’t know, that we’d be great together,” you hear Austin say. Your heart squeezed in your chest, and you put a hand up to steady yourself on the side of the trailer. Olivia. It was just confirmation that something was going on between them. You took a deep breath as you felt tears spring to your eyes. You blinked them back quickly as a PA appeared from around the corner and you pulled the door open quickly, not wanting to get caught lingering outside. You weren’t ready to face Austin, but you had no choice. Good thing it wasn’t Austin staring back at you in the mirror. Elvis blinked his eyes rapidly and his mouth parted just a little in surprise. His hand fluttered up to rake through his hair before realizing he couldn’t without messing up his wig. You quickly averted your eyes from his gaze - whoever it was staring back at you in the mirror, Austin or Elvis - you couldn’t really tell. Either way it was too intense for this early in the day.
“Morning,” you said, smiling through your pain, and sitting down in a makeup chair.
“Mornin’, darlin’” he drawled, quietly. You snuck a glance at him - his eyes were averted, focused on nails as his team finished up final touches. He gave you a quick, tight smile as he walked out. God, you felt like bursting into tears right there. But you were a professional. You pulled it together and made it through without crying and ruining your fresh makeup. You were due on set soon, shooting the breakup between Dixie and Elvis. This was good. You could use your emotion for the scene. You soon found yourself in a Cadillac sitting next to Austin, discussing the scene with Baz. While it wasn’t the last one you had to shoot on the the film, it was getting close for your time on set to be done, which only added to the weight of it. Baz called action, and Austin had barely gotten his lines out before you burst into tears. Miraculously, it was exactly what Baz was looking for and you only had to do it a couple more times before he called cut.
“You good, honey?” Austin asked you quietly as you two headed back to the trailers, except it was Elvis who spoke to you. You nodded and smiled quickly, wiping your eyes, not trusting yourself to speak. You took a steadying breath through your nose and gave yourself an internal pep talk, pressing your fingernails into your palms so hard you were sure you might break the skin. It grounded you, the pain, giving you something physical to focus on rather than the emotions swirling inside that just wouldn’t settle. It was silent as you two walked, the tension building until you were sure you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to get away from him, as soon as possible. You sped up, anxious to get to the sanctuary of your trailer.
“Hey I-“ Austin said.
“Thanks for-,” you said at the same time, before stopping, a slight smile forming on your lips despite your misery. “Sorry, you go.” He looked suddenly shy, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. He bit his bottom lip before finally looking at you.
“Yeah, so I was just wondering if maybe…if maybe you wanted to grab a drink tonight? I should done by 6:30ish, if we can get to all the scenes we need.” He looked at you expectantly. Hopefully. He must have seen the confusion on your face because his smile faltered. “Or, I mean. You know, we don’t have to…”
“Austin, what are you asking me?”
“Well, I’m trying to ask you out on a date,” he said, a smirk tugging at his mouth, his confidence returning. “But if you don’t want to..or, or you don’t like-”
“But you like Olivia,” you state, still confused. The shocked look on Austin’s face tells you all you need to know, just how wrong you’d read the entire situation. But you still weren’t completely convinced. “I heard you. This morning…in the makeup trailer? You said you two would be great together…”
“Oh,” he murmured quietly, slowly stepping towards you. “Oh no, Y/N…I wasn’t talking about Olivia.” He was so close now - you could see the deep blue of his eyes, the bits of glue at the edges of his sideburns, the curve of his plump mouth that was turning up into a smile. And all at once it hit you like a ton of bricks. What he was saying. What he meant. The way he was looking at you - hopeful and yearning and a tiny bit scared. Scared that you would say no. You thought you might explode from pure joy. You smiled at him then, as you closed the distance between you and stepped into his open arms.
Tags: @aconflagrationofmyown @jelliedonut
#austin butler#austin butler elvis#elvis 2022#austin butler fantasy#austin butler x reader#austin butler x y/n#austin butler x you#austin butler angst#austin butler fluff#austin butler blurb#austin butler imagine#austin butler fic#austin butler fanfiction#written by ab4eva#ab4eva answers#anon request
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Niente
Part 1, Part 2
A band AU I’m writing! Sorry if it’s bad! There is no magic in this universe, just music! @puffin-smoke did an amazing Redacted Band AU that you should check out too!
CW: Grooming, use of drugs,drug abuse, Kody, Blake, Quinn
Niente; To nothing; indicating a diminuendo which fades completely away…
Tanks Eyes lit up as they saw the message from Quinn. They were so enthralled to be in contact with him. They quickly thumbed open the message and silently read it to themself.
QUINN: Hey Precious, you didn't stick around the other night? Was it that you wanted to stand me up, or your brootish brother was hiding you away?
Tank smiled to themself and bit their lip. They slightly laughed at Quinns descriptor of David
TANK: We had to leave pretty quickly unfortunately… T-T
QUINN: Well, I have another gig tonight if you wanted to show… But if you don't, I'll just assume you hate me ;)
TANK: I don’t have band practice tonight so I could… but I don’t have a ride and I’d have to sneak out… seems like too much trouble…
QUINN: What are you afraid of a little trouble?
TANK: No…
QUINN: I’ll come pick you up… Text me your address and I’ll be there by 7:30 precious.
Tank smiled to themself as they sent him their address. This was their chance to get close to him, to get to know the singer they had been such a fan of since they were fifteen. They quickly got dressed and ready to go, taking a little more care than usual into what they looked like. Opening their window they scanned their room once more before crawling out. Lights beamed directly at them, flickering on and off twice, just as they told Quinn to do. They walked over to the all black Rolls Royce and quickly got in.
“Hello Precious.” Quinn smiled at them. “Have a fun time crawling through your window?”
“Oh, it was thrilling.” They spoke sarcastically as they fastened their seatbelt. Quinn drove off shortly after that.
“So, how long have you been playing?” Quinn asked as he peeked over at them through the corner of his eyes.
“I’ve only been playing electric guitar for about a year and a half… but I’ve been playing acoustic for about six years…” They spoke using their hands to add emphasis to their words.
“Ahh so you’re pretty fresh to the scene then? Want some advice?” Quinn smiles over at them.
They look at him for a moment, their eyes turning bright, THE Quinn Fox was offering them advice. “Sure.” they nodded trying to play it cool.
“If a devilishly handsome musician from a pretty famous band asks you to go somewhere, you say no. Unless of course that man is me.” He smiled at them cheekily. “Some men out there want the wrong things and use their fans. Not me though. I see your true talent…. You are truly remarkable, Tank.”
They felt their face flush as they nodded at his words. Their bright orbs staring into his oddly dark ones. “Okay…”
The concert went on as usual and Quinn performed with such charisma that anyone would fall for him. “Temptation eyes, Looking through my, my, my soul.” Quinn sung out and glanced over at Tank smirking at them, as if he was singing to them. After the show they waited backstage in his dressing room for him.
They looked around at the posters and costumes set up in the room. They heard the familiar turning of the door knob and sat up properly, waiting for the band to enter. Once they did, Quinn took the liberty of introducing everyone.
“Alright everyone this is Tanker from that group that opened for us a few days ago, DxW… And Tank This is Kody, our Drummer.” He said pointing over to Kody, a man with Tan skin and dark blue hair, his eyes were an icy blue and he looked at Tank with an off putting smile. “This is Blake, our Electric Guitarist.” He pointed at a rather plain looking man, he had brown hair and a piercing on his lip, however, his dark brown eyes sent a shiver down Tank's spine, their instincts telling them to run. “And this ray of sunshine is our bass guitarist Vega.” He looked over his shoulder at the man with magenta locks and hazel eyes. The man was sat up in the corner taking a long drag of his cigarette, already separating himself from the group. He didn't seem as scary as the others.
“Ever had a cig?” Quinn asked Tank as he sat down next to them on the couch and put his arm around them.
“No… I don’t smoke really…” Uncertainty rang out in their tone as Quinn handed them the lit cigarette.
“Well we can't have that now can we? How about you give it a go?” He nudged them on the shoulder as they took the cigarette. “It's easy…just suck and blow.” He spoke in a flirty tone as he leaned closer to them, “You can do that can’t you?” His lips ghosted across their ear, sending chills down their spine.
They nodded, taking the cigarette into their mouth, they inhaled the smoke and fell into a coughing fit, their cheeks turning red. The group around them laughed and their faces heated up with embarrassment. They quickly handed the cigar back to Quinn.
“Aww can’t handle a little puff pup.” Kody spoke in a gross intoxicating voice.
“Don’t you fucking call me that.” Tank spoke firmly, their tone low.
“Ooh a feisty little rat you brought along Quinn.” Kody huffed out a laugh. “I bet they’d be fun to play with.” Kody moved over to and reached a hand out for them before it was whacked away.
“Have some fucking tact, asshat.” A smooth voice spoke. Tank looked up to meet Vega, his cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he glared at Kody. “This kid is like half your age, don’t play with them like that…”
“Ever the protector of justice is our Vega,” Quinn spoke patronizingly, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Relax Vega, their nineteen. They’re an adult, old enough to make their own choices.”
“Barely…” Vega mumbles under his breath.
After Quinn dropped them back home Tank tried to sneak through their window as quickly and as quietly as possible.They slid up the window and swung their leg over the ledge, pulling themself through. They made it in, safely, and presumably unsuspected. They quickly turned around and shut the window, making sure to latch it shut. That's when their bedroom light flicked on. They didn't dare turn around to face who caught them.
“Have fun Kiddo?” Gabes voice echoed through their room. His tone indicated that he was not genuinely asking and he was actually quite upset.
“Gabe, Uhm Hi…?” Tank asked, sweating bullets. They finally turned around to face him to see him leaning in their doorway.
“Hi.” He spoke out as he moved two steps into their room, shutting the door behind him.
“What's up?” Tank said folding their arms and biting their lip, a dead giveaway that they were nervous.
“What's up is that when I knocked on my child's door at eight, they didn't answer, so I walked in the room to make sure they were okay, and they weren't there. Crazy Right?” He folded his arms, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “So naturally I go to David to ask if he knew of any plans they had, and guess what? He Didn't. But he did let me know that they were possibly out with a famous rockstar almost double their age. So I waited in their room until.” He paused to check his watch. “Around 4:33am when they tried sneaking back into their bedroom. That's what's up, Tanker.”
“I’m Sorry, I should've told you, I just didn't want you to freak out, or say no.” They said sitting on their bed.
“And I would've said no. You should not be hanging out ALONE with four fully grown men.” He said, giving them a stern look.
“Dad, I’m nineteen years old. I’m an adult.” They said huffing and rolling their eyes..
“Okay First, drop the attitude. And Second, even IF you think you qualify as an ‘Adult’ you will always be my kid.” He moved closer to them, sitting on their bed. “I don’t approve of you hanging out with them alone. I have a bad feeling about it. But since you are an adult I can’t physically stop you. Please be smart. I know you can be.”
“Dad, I’m literally just hangin. I’m smart enough to think for myself! I’m not an idiot.”
“I know you aren't an idiot, I just want you to use your brain here! I don’t want you to get hurt.” He said in a slightly exhausted tone.
“Well, I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself. They wouldn't hurt me dad. Besides, David is probably much too scary for them to even think about hurting me.” They joked.
“Kid, I’m serious, I don't trust them.” He stands up and moves to the door.
“I’m literally fine. It's whatever, I’m just gonna go to bed.” They roll their eyes and lay down.
“We’ll talk about this later.” He says as he closes their door. They knew they were already infatuated with Mr.Fox and wanted to spend as much time with him as they could. Something about him made them feel special.
Tank only fell deeper in with Quinn after Gabes passing. The whole Band was on the way back from a concert, Gabe deciding to drive the truck, leaving the Band in the bus. As they were passing a light, a Drunk driver failed to stop and crashed head on into his truck. Tank remembers running out of the bus, alongside David and rushing over to Gabe. By the time they got to him he was already too far gone. He couldn't speak, couldn't move, he only smiled at them, tears rushing down his cheeks, as he drifted off to sleep for the last time. Tank stopped including themself in the group outside of concerts and band practice. Milo ended up bringing in his partner as the band's new manager to help the transition from Gabe running everything.
Things continued like this for the next few months, Tank would sneak out and meet up with Quinn and his band. Fortunately, DxW was also growing in popularity, so they played more gigs which allowed Tank to slip away easier since everyone was so tired. Slowly the group introduced Tank to a whole new attitude and way of life, As well as a few substances to kickstart their addiction both to the band and to the drugs.
Quinn also began getting more physically intimate with Tank. He would find himself being close to them, and even kissing them often before it would branch out into full on makeout sessions. The first time Quinn kissed Tank they were both sitting on the couch. He slowly leaned over and let his lips touch theirs. His lips were dry and hot and it never felt right but again, Tank was addicted to Quinn. Addicted to finding out his deepest darkest secrets. Addicted to the attention. Addicted to knowing someone who seemed to want them.
—————
A/N: song credit- Temptation Eyes- The Grass Roots
#redacted asmr#redacted audios#redacted darlin#redacted david#milo redacted#redacted asmr asher#redacted asher#redacted sweetheart#redacted asmr david#redacted tank#redacted quinn#redacted milo greer#redacted gabe#redacted fanfic#redacted blake#redacted band au#redacted baabe#redacted babe#redacted vega#redacted#redacted kody#redacted asmr shaw pack#redacted audio
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the blue - part eight
series masterlist // previous // next
zendaya amelia grace holland be honest. how many songs ave you written about oscar?
amelia holland
sam holland the better question is how many songs have you written about fake scenarios in your head?
amelia holland oh that one's easy at least five. this month. i've got a really good one called i should hate you, i wrote that one with aaron.
tuwaine barrett DID CHARLES HELP PRODUCE THIS AGAIN??
amelia holland i think he almost shit himself when he found out aaron was also producing this one.
tuwaine barrett CHAMELIA MY BELOVED! GET THIS MAN ON STAGE WITH TAYLOR FOR A SURPRISE SONG!
amelia holland he's been on my ass about that to. did you team up with him or something?
tuwaine barrett why? did he say someting?
harry holland speaking of charles, how's texas? is it fun?
amelia holland it's hot as fuck.
amelia holland you're in texas now? any plans on coming home?
amelia holland kinda promised oscar and lando that i'd stick around for the triple header. there's a week off in between vegas and brazil but lando's birthday is a few days before vegas and abu dhabi is the next weekend. so i'm not sure. might be home for a couple days at most.
harrison osterfield it's almost like oscar's career is monopolizing all of your time
sam holland for the record none of us have problem with it. this is the first time in a long time we've seen you happy. if traveling with oscar makes you happy, do it. harrison's being a dick, ignore him. but like also please come home for the holidays?
amelia holland is that his default setting? - danny ric
amelia holland sorry about that, the fake american took my phone.
amelia holland real american here, is that his default setting? - logan sargeant
amelia holland charles here! is that his default?
amelia holland this group is tragic. ours is much more fun - max
amelia holland I CAN FINALLY STOPPED BE CALLED NORIZZ BECAUSE CLEARLY THE SECOND STRING LOSER HAS LESS THAN ME! - LANDO
amelia holland i would never piss a songwriter off because you'll be branded as the second string loser for the rest of your life. - pierre
amelia holland i swear they’re normally house-trained - oscar
amelia holland he's lying - alex
tom holland YOU HAVE A GROUPCHAT WITH THEM??
amelia holland it's quite fun. murder is threatened at least 3 times a day and lestappen is in full force. it is no just for the camera, i genuinely think they're in love with each other
amelia holland yuki’s quite violent, in case anyone was wondering. he may be pocket sized but he holds a lot of rage
harry holland and who exactly is in this group chat and why haven’t we been invited?
amelia holland the twitch quartet, max, daniel, yukierre, estie bestie and his two husbands, twinkclaren, and me
harrison osterfield you call your boyfriend a twink?
amelia holland it’s a term of endearment - lando
amelia holland she calls lando a fucking weenie and she called someone a weird second string loser, so i’m okay with twink - oscar
amelia holland WE'RE KIDNAPPING AMELIA! WE'RE IN TEXAS BABY! - DANNY RIC
amelia holland SAVE US! - CHARLES & MAX
ameliaholland posted new stories
someone's super excited to be back in texas
COTA!
pre-quali look with oscaroo. he's not happy at the moment, says it's too hot to be in texas. i agree.
:)
logan said he knew a place and took us to cane's. clearly one of them is happy to be here.
ameliaholland the plans made it out of the group chat, so when in texas...
tagged: oscarpiastri, lilymhe, francesca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, danielricciardo, landonorris, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, alex_albon, logansargeant, yukitsunoda, pierregasly, georgerussell63, estebanocon, mickschumacher, lancestroll
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tuwaine I HAVE NEVER WANTED TO BE IN TEXAS SO BAD
↳ ameliaholland you're missing out so bad tuwaine
tomholland2013 AMELIA GRACE HOLLAND YOU BETTER NOT BE DRINKING!
↳ ameliaholland i'm not? there's a heineken in my hand? it's non alcoholic.
↳ landonorris she literally had shots with max. she's a liar.
↳ ameliaholland shut the fuck up norizz.
username oh god, i've never wanted to be apart of a friend group this bad
username thank goodness someone put boots on the correct way. if i saw another picture or video of the drivers with their jeans tucked into their boots i would riot.
↳ username i hope daniel scolded them for doing so.
samholland1999 PUT SOME PANTS ON AMELIA!
↳ ameliaholland I AM WEARING PANTS! IT'S CALLED SHORTS DINGBAT! IT'S HOT IN TEXAS
username now this is a group i never thought i would see hanging out. at least not all of them together.
username this is so iconic of them wtf?
georgerussell63 i have never met someone who can out drink max, please join us the next time we go out.
↳ harryholland64 did not know my little sister can out drink max verstappen but i'm somehow proud?
↳ username this just in, something max verstappen is not good at doing, out drinking amelia holland.
lilymhe we have to do this again!
↳ francesca.cgomes we do!
↳ alexandrasaintmleux oh, we should
↳ ameliaholland give me a time a place and i'll be there!
↳ carmenmundt count me in too! i would love to meet amelia.
↳ username icons meeting other icons, love to see it.
finish the lyrics with lando norris and oscar piastri
comments
user we were robbed of cowboy oscar!
user lando and the holland brothers being the captains of the oscar x amelia ship is so funny to me
user but who did lando call a dick and why?
↳ user probably harrison, if the context clues we've been provided are anything to go by.
↳ user lando has been their biggest defender since day 1 and i stand by that
user was i the only one who caught that brocedes reference?
↳ user lando knew what he was doing making that joke.
user lando casually wanted to remind everyone that oscar's brother-in-law is spider-man.
↳ user had to quickly flex on spidey's biggest fan, estie.
user and to think this whole joke started because of a taylor song.
user HE CALLED HIM A MUPPET!! THIS IS MONUMENTAL!
user lando is oscar and amelia's biggest defender, you can't change my mind.
↳ user it's oscmelia girl, get it right.
↳ user you're right my bad, terribly sorry.
harrison osterfield i don't exactly appreciate your friend and boyfriend calling me a dick online.
amelia holland and i didn't appreciate being strung along for almost 2 years...
sam holland HOW LONG?
tom holland but he was with his ex for almost a year?
tuwaine barrett oh damn
harry holland you have got to be fucking kidding me harrison.
zendaya never trust blonde men with blue eyes
amelia holland what about max and logan?
zendaya never trust blonde men with blue eyes whose name starts with an h or a j. those two you can trust.
tom holland by the way how's oscar doing? we watched the race.
amelia holland a bit bummed about the dnf but that's the way things go in this sport. besides it's not like it can get any worse than this.
TWO HOURS LATER
amelia holland HOW COULD I BE SO FUCKING WRONG?!
ameliaholland posted new stories
💋
i'm totally going to lose tonight...
you're looking at the winner of the bowling tournament. it was luck really, but operation cheer up charles and oscar was a success.
taglist: @six-call @1nt3rnetgf @fernandoswarcrimes @skynel09 @arieltwvdtohamflash @Mimolovescookies @brekkers-whore @natcha888 @camdensreg @mycenterfold @woozarts @dear-fifi @tygecjjd @cataf1 @nothaqks @caipng @nataliambc @formulaal @lichterfee @prongsvault @kaa212 @anxxiousaries @julesbabey1 @julesbabey @georgeparisole @hobiismyhopeu @melissayalene @nikfigueiredo @bella-1 @nichmeddar @namgification @anniemae299
strikethrough means i couldn't tag you
¡leclerc-s speaks!
just when you think he can't get any worse, he does! i have very strong opinions about texas, in case that wasn't obvious. texas was my breaking point + brazil, in case you couldn't tell who my favorite drivers were, you do now.
¡disclaimer!
this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!
#leclerc-s#the blue series#formula 1#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x female oc#formula 1 fic#fanfic#fanfiction#f1#f1 smau#f1 fic#f1 social media au#f1 instagram au
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Fallout ocs pt.20 Xavier Chaves
(Also note can they pls release this song it slaps!)
Xavier Chaves is my co- courier with my fallout stevie both got brain damage, Xavier is just a barely functional mess and my favorite lil rat man with his boyfriend Valentino a hydra raider and pimp and close friend Medora a strawberry + mint nymph who was apart of a scandal and now lives in far harbor
Xavier is from the Mojave and lived under the ncr thumb with his family mainly his parents Joanna and his father Augusto. His father is a washed up veteran who was injured during his time in the ncr and couldnt work so he was sent back home to his sickly wife and his young son (xavier). Augusto was an alcoholic and didnt hesitate to use the money he’d get from the ncr on substances or to gamble rarely being home and when he was he was a monster to his son especially as hed get in trouble to keep his fathers attention away from his mom as she was getting sicker and sicker and xavier would be taking care of his mother before her passing. Augusto would ‘remarry’ not ling after to his side piece a addict woman who would get him into her chems as well and xavier hated both of them and eventually becoming just as bad as them with substance issues in his adulthood during the events of new vegas mainly to sooth his pains anf effects of all that happens to him the only dlcs he isnt apart of and instead stevie is apart of is Old world blues and honest hearts. Both Stevie and Xavier are apart of Dead money. Xavier is only apart of Lonesome road blues on his own
He is my rat man and i love him and his friend group who youll see eventually or soon either in the next part or just art of them together Enjoy!
#art#digital art#speedpaint#character design#fallout oc#fallout 4#fallout fanart#fallout#fallout new vegas#fallout courier#courier six
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yours to keep
Piarles below the break.
The first time Charles does it, he’s a love sick teenager. Alone in love - or so he thinks.
PG10.
On the bottom of his right boot, near the toe.
Except he wins and then it becomes a thing.
He writes PG10 in tiny little letters that no one could actually read and he thinks he’s going to die of embarrassment the day Pierre picks up one of his old boots and finds it.
But he doesn’t. Because Pierre kisses him instead and then.
And then.
It stops being PG10 and becomes Pierrot some races and Calamar some and once when Charles is feeling rather bold, he writes PG.CL
Pierre helps him write it sometimes - drawing his logo or signing that sloppy signature of his that doesn’t really even say his name.
It’s just for the two of them. So Charles remembers that he belongs to Pierre. Always has. Always will.
Today...today, it’s the boldest it’s ever been. Pierre Gasly. Right beneath his toe. When the national anthem for Brazil plays, he digs his toes into his boot and knows it’s there - can trick himself into believing that he can still feel Pierre’s hands on him. Grounding him. Telling him he doesn’t need the luck because today is the day.
Today Charles will become World Champion.
And then he gets in the car and even though there’s no room to think about Pierre in his boot...he’s with him. He’s there on track, but he’s in Charles’ heart, and on his skin, and on his boot.
Charles becomes champion.
Pierre on the bottom of his boot and in parc ferme hugging him so tightly, bumping their helmets together. Blue against red.
If he hadn’t been World Champion, he probably wouldn’t have jumped into the Ferrari pit crew. He wouldn’t have been so high up in the air that the photographers caught the toe of his boot. He wouldn’t have exposed the little secret that he’s managed to keep tucked away for so long.
Pierre Gasly.
There are too many celebrations that night for them to notice, but it trends on Twitter worldwide and a bunch of articles go up about their friendship timeline and someone on TikTok claims to have a video of the two of them making out in a club in Singapore - which is false because they barely saw each other in Singapore.
But, when they wake up, there’s a Ferrari and an Alpine PR shitstorm and there’s Lando standing outside their hotel room with caffeine and an apologetic look on his face.
“You had to write it on your fucking boot, mate? Like, it’s primary? Return to owner or something?”
Charles doesn’t deny it. Lando leaves in a huff, but not before he lets in a group of PR people and Charles makes a mental note to have George go over to his place and give him one of his special early morning workout wake-ups.
Pierre doesn’t let go of his hand though. Kisses it while staring at the Alpine man who suggests they arrange a girlfriend for him.
Instead, Pierre write Charles Leclerc on the bottom of his right boot ahead of Vegas and then includes it in his Vegas Dump on Instagram.
Someone does end up posting a video of them making out in a club. But, it’s definitely from that weekend and it’s definitely not their fault.
#future fic#piarles#manifesting something but you be the deciding factor#I listened to Yours to Keep by Jordan Mackampa on repeat while I wrote this.#sorry for making y'all choke on content this last month#it will happen again
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Ever since I was in high school (in the before times, in the long, long ago) I had dreamed of taking road trip. Just me, my car (in high school it was a Cadillac Hearse that got absolutely awful gas mileage and high school me used to bitch about gas when it went over a $1 a gallon), and the open road, but I never managed to do it. Sometimes it was money, sometimes it was lack of opportunity, sometimes it was just the fear of doing something new.
In my mid-30s I finally did it and let me tell you it was one of the best experiences of my life.
A few years ago (2022 to be exact) my boss made me take a vacation in the spring (mostly because I had two years of pto from not using it during the lockdown years, but also because he was legitimately concerned with my stress levels, but anyway) and that year I decided to take two weeks to see all three Meow Wolf locations in one big trip. (Convergence Station is the coolest one btw, with Omega-Mart a close second.)
I70 through Kansas is a zen experience if you make the drive at night. Endless fields of stars and farmland, accompanied by whatever podcast you queued up for the drive.
Visited family in Denver, spent a day at Convergence Station, and the drive to Santa Fe was like driving through a postcard!
The House of Eternal Return was neat (IMO it relies a little too much on backstory you can only really get from sitting down and reading a lot of the SCP-style documents lying around the house, but unless you rented the entire place for the day you're competing with dozens of other people who are also trying to read the same thing.), I stayed at this cool, fully restored Route 66 vintage motel called the El Rey Court (A++, would stay again), and then I was off to Las Vegas.
There's a trick i40 plays on you. You'll be driving through some incredibly beautiful but still harsh desert wasteland (I passed more than one husk of an abandoned building on that stretch of highway) and then all of a sudden you're in a lush green forest. It was seriously as close to passing from one Minecraft biome to another as you can get in real life. (I also stopped at Meteor Crater National Landmark. It was cool.)
Just outside of Vegas I got two incredibly singular experiences. The first was seeing a tumbleweed in real life for the first time. I swear, I was alone in my car and I said out loud "Holy shit they're real!!!" The second was driving through an actual sand storm. In hindsight I should have pulled over and let it pass, but no one else on the road was doing it, so I just crawled through it at 30mph.
I spent a few nights in Las Vegas. Visited Omega-Mart (super cool, I recommend it), watched Blue Man Group (also very cool, also highly recommend), got to see a Penn & Teller show live (a fucking dream of mine since I was a little kid!!!), and had the best meal of my life.
Honestly, before that trip if you told me there was a difference between a $20 steak from Longhorn and a $100 steak from an actual steak restaurant I'd have called bullshit. I was in Las Vegas, I figured "This is likely the last time I'll take a trip like this, fuck it, why not splurge."
Oh my sweet raptor christ! The $100 steak was worth every cent!
What followed was a day of driving through beautiful parts of Nevada, Utah, and Colorado, including the most nerve-wracking stretch of highway through the mountains (literally through them in one spot. The Eisenhower tunnel is a little more than a mile and a half of tunnel bored straight through the spine of the Americas). A brief stop to sleep, and then 14 hours straight on home.
It was a fantastic trip. Two weeks away from home, from work, from any responsibility, the first time off since 2019. Two weeks of moving to my own schedule and crossing things off of the bucket list.
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Over the course of a long career, the American singer Marlena Shaw moved from jazz to soul and back again, searching for settings that would best enhance her fine voice. In later decades she commanded the allegiance of the British fans of the rare-groove movement, who rediscovered and particularly cherished her version, released in 1969, of a much recorded song called California Soul.
Shaw, who has died aged 81, made her first stage appearance at the Apollo theatre in Harlem, New York, when she was 10 years old. Billie Holiday was still alive and Ella Fitzgerald, Sarah Vaughan and Dinah Washington were other inescapable influences on a jazz-inclined teenage singer seemingly destined to work with big bands in dancehalls and smaller groups in nightclubs. In her later years she became familiar with the sound of hip-hop artists basing their hits on samples from her singles and album tracks.
Shaw’s recording of California Soul, a song written by Valerie Simpson and Nickolas Ashford, popped up in Gang Starr’s Check the Technique and Stereo MCs’ Sofisticated. It was also used in American TV commercials for Dockers shoes, KFC fast food and Dodge trucks, and in 2022 it was awarded an official gold record by the British Phonographic Industry.
Born Marlina Burgess in New Rochelle, New York, she showed musical talent from an early age and was given her first opportunity to take the stage in 1952 by her uncle, Jimmy Burgess, a trumpeter and bandleader who was performing at the Apollo. It was through his tuition that she acquired her understanding of jazz phrasing, while her mother encouraged her to study music at New York State Teachers’ College in Potsdam, a small town close to the Canadian border.
But she failed to complete the course, marrying young and bringing up five children before picking up the threads of a performing career that had barely begun. There were more false starts. In 1963 she missed an appearance at the Newport jazz festival with the trumpeter Howard McGhee after an argument with the musicians, and an attack of nerves ruined an audition with the great talent scout John Hammond, who had signed Holiday and Bob Dylan, among many others.
But in 1966, while singing at the Playboy Club in Chicago, she was signed up by the locally based Chess label, the home of many popular soul and R&B performers. Her first single was a vocal version of Joe Zawinul’s gospel-style tune Mercy Mercy Mercy, which had been an instrumental hit for Cannonball Adderley.
In 1968 Shaw toured Europe with Count Basie’s orchestra, involving the bandleader in an amusing routine as she improvised new words to Won’t You Come Home, Bill Bailey? It was while appearing with Basie at the Sands hotel in Las Vegas that she decided to make the gambling capital her home, moving there in 1970.
A contract with the Blue Note label led to a series of albums in a smooth soul-jazz style, including one recorded live at the Montreux jazz festival. The title and content of another album, Who Is This Bitch, Anyway?, indicated a desire to challenge the then-current popularity of the sexually explicit singer Millie Jackson.
A move to the Columbia label in 1977 saw her transforming Carole King and Gerry Goffin’s Go Away Little Girl, originally recorded by Bobby Vee, from a lovelorn ballad into a statement of female independence introduced by a lengthy rap directed at a feckless, workshy lover: “I figure if I’ve got to get up and go to work every day, then every able-bodied in the household is supposed to get up and go … If for some reason you feel that you can no longer be the man you were at the beginning of our relationship, then I’ve got this one thing to lay on you, my sweet. Go away, little boy …” But eventually the attitude softens, and after a seduction scene the song fades out on a note of surrender: “You think you can get a job by Thursday? You promise? Then you might as well stay … Don’t go away … ”
It became one of her most popular songs in live performance, the prefatory rap acquiring extra twists, turns, and layers of sardonic saltiness. At the New Morning club in Paris in 2010, the man in the song had become someone who had picked her up at an airport giftshop, its final scene acted out with elaborately dramatised hand gestures, smiles, laughter and a winning command of her audience.
An elegant presence on the concert stage, she sang with a symphony orchestra in New Zealand and toured for four years with Sammy Davis Jr. There were further recordings for the Verve, Concord and South Bay labels, and in 1989 a duet with Joe Williams, another former Basie singer, on an update of the old Louis Jordan song Is You Is Or Is You Ain’t My Baby earned her a Grammy nomination.
Shaw ceased all professional activity in 2016, retiring to her home in Las Vegas. Her survivors include her daughters April and Marla, a son, Robert, and several grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
🔔 Marlena Shaw (Marlina Burgess), singer, born 22 September 1942; died 19 January 2024
Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?
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"(and take a guess at who destroyed the professional affinity they built with him" is this the colonel? jfc I keep hating that man
who else? leiber and stoller initially didn't know who elvis was and had some preconceived judgment in place (which happened to him a lot), but then once they actually met with him, they were impressed and developed a rapport. elvis wanted them to be in the studio when he recorded. they had suggestions and encouragement for him, about songs, about his career, and parker didn't like that, was threatened by the idea of them getting in the middle, or worse, giving him ideas (this would repeat throughout his life, it's not dissimilar to what happened with steve binder). the colonel eventually destroyed the relationship they built by sending leiber and stoller a blank page and calling it a contract as an intentional slight. they told him exactly what they thought of that, and never worked with elvis again.
longer details from here
"Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller were like the rap artists of the early '50s, pushing buttons, inviting scorn and testing the limits, as rock roared into being from its roots as blues and rhythm and blues. They were writing music for black artists, when one of their songs, Hound Dog, was heard by a young Elvis Presley. His adaptation turned it into a No. 1 hit and helped aim Leiber and Stoller toward the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
They wrote 20 songs for Elvis until the brash young songwriters had a falling out with Colonel Tom Parker, the Svengali they now remember as a 'bully' and a 'foul, greedy' man who helped destroy Elvis. But the estrangement didn't change their respect for Elvis.
'We feel that Elvis Presley was the high water mark of the 20th Century. He's legend. No, he's myth. He's in that celestial place for mythological figures. At the time, we just thought he was a white kid trying to make it as a singer', says Leiber, the man who supplied the words as lyricist of one of the worlds' best-known songwriting duos.
Leiber and Stoller originally met in 1950, sharing a love of the blues and boogie woogie. They were writing for black artists, their earliest songs recorded by Jimmy Witherspoon, Little Esther, Amos Milburn, Charles Brown, Little Willie Littlefield and, among others, Willie Mae 'Big Mama' Thornton.
It was for Big Mama Thornton that they wrote Hound Dog in 1952. Her version came out in 1953 and was adapted by several groups. Stoller had gone to Europe with royalties from some of those early songs and was on his way home aboard the Andrea Doria when it sank in 1956.
Rescued by a lifeboat, Stoller arrived in New York with Leiber yelling from the dock: 'We've got a smash hit'. 'I said, 'You mean Big Mama Thornton's record?' He said, 'No, some white kid named Elvis Presley'. Elvis had heard Hound Dog in a Vegas Lounge by a group called Freddie Bell and the Bellboys', says Stoller.
Elvis' recording of Hound Dog was released in July of 1956 and bounded up the charts, selling millions of copies. Released the same year as Heartbreak Hotel, it put Elvis on TV and turned him into a phenomenon.
After Elvis' great success with his version of Hound Dog, Paramount Studios and music publishers Hill and Range selected additional Leiber and Stoller songs for Elvis' 1957 film Loving You. It was on April 30, 1957 while working on the movie Jailhouse Rock that Elvis first met Leiber and Stoller. They were skeptical of meeting the newcomer, thinking he was a country bumpkin. However, they were very impressed when upon meeting and talking to Elvis that he was very knowledgeable of R&B music and could discuss its nuances in great detail. They went on to work closely with Elvis on the Jailhouse Rock soundtrack with Stoller appearing in the film playing the piano for Elvis' character. After an incident of pitching songs and movie ideas directly to Elvis and not going through the usual chain of command with Elvis' manager, Colonel Tom Parker, they had a falling out with Parker and essentially ended their collaboration with Elvis. Fast-forward to 1960, they did write a couple of songs that were in the running for inclusion in Elvis' first post-army movie, G.I. Blues, but, ultimately they were not used. Although the direct collaboration ended, Elvis did choose several additional Leiber and Stoller tunes to record over the years.
'We were completely unconscious of what it might imply. We were just doing numbers', says Leiber. Stoller says those numbers were unfamiliar to white audiences because he and Leiber had written 'almost exclusively for black performers, so we wrote in a black idiom. People started thinking it was entirely new, but the base we started from was the blues and boogie woogie'.
Stoller says they didn't specifically tailor songs to that early Elvis persona but began by supplying songs they had already written, like Love Me, a ballad they had already recorded. 'Then we were asked to write for a movie, Loving You, with Elvis and Lizabeth Scott'. The next project, Jailhouse Rock, included four songs Leiber and Stoller wrote while held captive in a New York hotel.
They had been living in Los Angeles, and Stoller says they rented a New York hotel suite with a piano in the living area. 'We were given a script for the movie and kind of tossed it in the corner. We were having a ball in New York, going to jazz clubs, cabaret, going to the theater and hanging out. Finally, Jean Aberbach who ran Elvis Presley Music knocked on the door and said, 'Well boys, where are my songs?' I think Jerry said, 'Oh, Jean, you're going to get them'. Jean then pushed a big overstuffed chair in front of the door and said, 'I'm not leaving until I get my songs'.
They wrote four songs in five hours, including Jailhouse Rock, the movie's title song and Treat Me Nice, both major hits.
After that, Elvis 'wanted us in the studio with him whenever we recorded', says Stoller. It was part of Elvis' 'perfectionist' tendencies in the early stages of his career, says Jerry Schilling, a member of Elvis' Memphis Mafia. Leiber says Elvis 'was like an Olympic champion. He could do 40 to 50 takes. I never saw him happier than when he was on a microphone, performing'.
Both songwriters say that studio time was their primary contact with Elvis, who was kept at arm's length from them by Colonel Parker. Stoller says Elvis once asked, 'Mike, could you write me a real pretty ballad?' Over the weekend, they wrote the song Don't for him and handed it to him only to be berated by Parker.
'He was upset that I handed a song directly to Elvis. They didn't want anybody to have direct access to Elvis. It was like Elvis was kept kind of in a glass box and away from contact except for the Memphis Mafia. They were like paid companions'.
Like almost everyone else, they also had little contact with Parker himself. 'The longest I ever spent with him was a dinner at the Beverly Hills Hotel around 1956, after Hound Dog', says Stoller.
The breaking point for them came when Leiber was recovering from a bout with pneumonia about two years later, and Parker ordered them to California to write songs for a new movie project. Leiber explained that he had just been released from the hospital and was unable to travel. 'Parker said, 'You'd better get your ass out here'. He then sent a packet with a contract for them to sign. Leiber says he pulled the contract from the packet and found only a dark line across the middle of a blank page for his signature.
'I called and said, 'I think you made a mistake. There's no contract in here'. He said, 'Don't worry about that, boy. Just sign your name, and I'll fill it in later'."
"Jerry Leiber: I called and asked to speak to (Colonel) Tom. He got on the phone and said (Leiber imitates Parker) 'How you doin' boy?' I said, 'I'm OK. I had a real close call there. I had walking pneumonia and I just got out of the hospital.' He said he wanted me to pack right away and catch a plane. I told him I wasn't in any shape to catch a plane because I'd just gotten out of the hospital. He said, 'If they let you out, that means you're all right'. I told him I needed a day or two to get myself together, but he said the schedule was very tight and he needed me to come out right away.
Then he said, 'Did you see the contract yet?' I said, contract?' He said, 'I'm sure it's there by now. It's a contract covering the forthcoming movie and soundtrack album. You better take a look, sign it and send it back. So I hung up, took the contract out of one of the manila envelopes, and saw nothing but a blank page. Nothing was written on it except two lines at the bottom where Mike and I were supposed to sign our names.
I thought they had made a ridiculous blunder. I called Parker's secretary and said, 'There's been a mistake', she said, 'Let me get Tom.' Colonel Parker got on the phone and I told him, 'There's a piece of paper here with two places for signatures, but the contract is missing'. He said, 'There's no mistake - just sign it'. Then he said, 'Don't worry. We'll fill it in later'.
I got off the phone with Parker and immediately called Mike. I told him, 'Breaking up with the Presley outfit is like throwing away a license to print money. After all this work, I really hate to do it, but I am really offended' (When I was on the phone with Parker, I almost told him that I wasn't one of his 'okie dokies'). I told Mike I didn't want to work with this jerk anymore.
I asked Mike, 'How do you feel about this?' Now Mike is a very measured and modest with very good manners. He paused for a moment, and then he said, Jer ....tell him to f**k himself!'
So I called Colonel Parker back and said, 'Tom, I thought about what you told me'. He said, 'Good! What time are you gonna get here?' I said, 'Tom, I spoke to Mike about the contract, and he told me to tell you to go f**k yourself'.
I hung up, and I never spoke to him again."
"Like many others, [Leiber] wondered about Parker's hold on Elvis. 'I think he (Elvis) had a very weak father and didn't get a sense of what a father was like. Parker came along, and his attitude was, 'Do this, do that, and I'll take care of everything'. Parker became his surrogate family'."
"Leiber: Of course, the Colonel wasn't really a colonel. He was Thomas A. Parker, whose former job as a carnival barker defined his personality. He had a definite shtick ('Pick a number from one to ten'). He told dozens of canned jokes. I can't remember any of them except that they weren't funny. But it didn't matter that we didn't laugh, because the Colonel wasn't really conscious of us. Of course, he knew we were the songwriters of 'Hound Dog' and the new songs for Jailhouse Rock. He knew more hit songs for Elvis meant more money for him. Beyond that, though, he was more interested in putting on his own show than getting to know us.
He had his long cigar and his confected Southern accent. He was a nonstop talker whose ego was always on parade. He told us in great detail all he had done for Elvis - and all he intended to do.
'Elvis' he said, 'is going to be bigger than the president, bigger than the pope'.
Naturally we agreed.
Stoller: The Colonel had the kind of energy that sucked all the air out of the room, even the dining room at the Beverly Hills Hotel. I had little interest in the man. Elvis was the guy we were eager to meet.
The session was due to start later that week.
Leiber: My heterosexual credits have long been established, so I can comfortably say that the first thing that hit me when I walked into the recording studio and found myself standing next to Elvis Presley was his physical beauty. Far more than his pictures, his actual presence was riveting.
He had a shy smile and quiet manner that were disarming."
"Stoller: It's important to remember that on the day we met Elvis, he was twenty-two and we were twenty-four. We were contemporaries. Remember, too, that Jerry and I shared the uppity view that he and I were among the few white guys who knew about the blues.
In the first five minutes of conversation with Elvis, we learned we were dead wrong.
Elvis knew the blues. He was a Ray Charles fanatic and even knew that Ray had sung our song 'The Snow Is Falling'. In fact, he knew virtually all of our songs. There wasn't any R&B he didn't know. He could quote from Arthur 'Big Boy' Crudup, B.B. King, and Big Bill Broonzy.
Leiber: When it came to the blues, Elvis knew his stuff. He may not have been conversant about politics or world history, but his blues knowledge was almost encyclopedic. Mike and I were blown away. In fact, the conversation got so enthusiastic that Mike and Elvis sat down at the piano and started playing four-handed blues. He definitely felt our passion for the real roots material and shared that passion with all his heart.
Just like that, we fell in love with the guy."
"'Whenever I record' he said, 'I want you guys in the studio. You're the guys who make the magic'."
"When Elvis returned (after a studio break), his head was down and his demeanor totally changed.
'I'm really sorry, Mike', he said, 'but you're gonna have to leave. The Colonel came in and he doesn't want anyone here but me and the guys'. 'Okay' I said, not wanting to make any more trouble. And with that, I left. The next day at the shoot I mentioned the incident to one of Elvis' Memphis buddies. 'Don't take it personally, Mike,' he said, 'It's just that the Colonel doesn't want Elvis to develop a friendship with anyone but us'."
#elvis presley#leiber and stoller#i could really yell here because it makes me so upset and angry but#i was reading something with sheree north who liked him so much and wanted to help him and she referred to the mm as “the goons”#they did what they were instructed to do under the auspices of it being somehow better for elvis but it wasn't#he wasn't some thing to be managed he was a human being and an artist with aspirations#it just breaks my heart how that was thwarted or suppressed or exploited over and over again#anyway shout out to elvis australia they do so much and have such informative pages <3#this was one of the earliest stories i read when i started digging into the foundation of his career#anonymous#letterbox#total aside but the number of guys who go “i'm totally straight but he was breathtaking” is endless and always makes me giggle#sorry the formatting on this is awful i did it on mobile somewhat unsuccessfully#i was a dreamer
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