Fernando Alonso, The Fella With The Hella Good Hair, Discusses Aston Martin’s Recent Surge In Form

If he doesn’t look like these boys I don’t want him

I have a certain type! Your either the sweetest person ever or your emo or murderer no in between!

The video is 28 secs long 😏😏😏

Louis having a shot with a fan in Austin - 02.02

My favorite forms of affection

Holding hands.

Resting their heads over my shoulder.

Lying on their lap or chest.

Kisses on the forehead.

Playing with my hair.

When they give me that look of admiration.

Them making me laugh.

Giving compliments.

Putting their arms around me.

Making me feel heard and seen without even trying.

Random hugs when words aren’t needed.

When they remember the things I am passionate about.

Buying me food.

Them checking on me constantly.

When they respect my boundaries.

When they talk to me about things that reminds them of me.

When they speak their truth.

When they say they love me.

When they lift me up, support me and make me feel valuable and capable when I least believe in it.

It's the best one ever

Lights On

nikibi6 said:

I need a story based on the Shawn Mendes song “lights on” but about Harry. Have you heard the song? It’s very sweet and sexy. Very Harry.

A/N:  Yes, my betas worked in full force to bring this piece of writing to a place where it was publishable.  Thank you to @little-black-dress-24, @melissas173, @niallandharrymakemestrong, and @emulateharry.  I hope it meets your expectations, @dirtystyles!  Here’s the song that inspired it!

WARNING:  NSFW.  Read at your own risk.  

“You know the words to every song! You must be a true Harrie!” the girl next to you yells while you’re jumping up and down during “Kiwi”. Nodding in agreement, you continue jamming to each tune, singing along at the top of your lungs.

When Harry smiles and waves at you during his cover of “Songbird”, the girl looks sideways at you. After his third time smiling specifically at you, the same girl pauses in her dancing, turning to you in bewilderment. “Who the fuck are you, hon?” A playful grin is your only response until the end of the show when Harry waves you over to the stage entrance. The fan grabs your arm, “You get to go backstage? What the fuck?! I thought he wasn’t doing M&Gs.”

“He’s not!” you call, as you wrench your arm from her tight, nearly painful grip. “Sometimes it just pays to have seen him naked.” Raising your eyebrows at her, you stalk off, angry that you had to justify why Harry has called you backstage.

Granted, the last time you had seen him naked had been when you were both about five years old and your mums had put you in the tub together after you’d played in the mud following a particularly powerful rainstorm.

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"I'm not doing this to be a hero. I'm doing it because there's something deeply broken in my head, and it makes me want to kill people, and this is the only way I can keep feeding the urge without getting arrested. The fact that my victims happen to be bad people doesn't really factor into it."