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padfootagain · 4 months ago

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Grey Days

Hi everyone! Here is a little Hozier oneshot for today! It’s a little sad, but mostly hurt/comfort. Did I write it after crying when I watched that interview he did where he spoke about his struggle with mental health? Yes. Obviously. I want to give him so many hugs…

I hope you like it! Tell me what you think!

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Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of depression

Summary : Andrew is used to feel low sometimes, he has been plagued by those periods for as long as he can remember. But if he usually solves his sadness by being alone, this time, the antidote to his pain might be you.

Word Count : 2671

Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

There were days like this, where everything was grey for no reason.

The sky rolling with clouds, heavy with rain, threatening with thunder, for sure wasn’t helping. But Andrew couldn’t pretend that it was at fault. Nor was the season, spring was on the horizon after all. There were boughs staining the branches, the first flowers blooming, the air a little warmer, the wind calmer than the winter storm. The birds had been chirping all morning, even if they had quietened now, under the menace of rain. He should be happy. The sun was high this morning, he had gotten some work done at Alex’s, he had had a nice lunch with his parents. Nothing but positive things, in theory.

And yet Andrew could feel his skin crawling, the tears that threatened to rise and spill, the numbness that came with spleen. Christ, melancholy was such a bitch, sometimes.

It was a bad day, the voices in his head were louder than usual. Despite the distractions he couldn’t keep them down. He kept on thinking about the pieces of songs he had recorded this morning with Alex, and on the spot they sounded good. Now, all he had left was doubt. For sure, none of it was good enough, and his lyrics were all over the place, and they didn’t do the subject justice… the didn’t do you justice…

He felt the burn in his eyes and the tightening in his throat again, his breathing grew more laboured, so he took a deep breath. He was driving, now was not the time…

And yet the thoughts were still there. As he entered his tiny town, the swirling of voices kept shouting.

Not good enough…

Don’t know how to write a proper song…

Got lucky with one song, will never be good enough again…

Imposter…

He entered his driveway, parked the car there. He didn’t notice your car until he was turning his head towards the front door.

Fuck…

He wasn’t in the mood for socialising, for pretending that everything was alright, for playing perfect boyfriend…

Another person you’ll end up disappointing…

Another thing in your life you don’t deserve…

He closed his eyes for a moment, tried to shush the voices. Just voices. It was just his busy head being louder than usual.

He just needed to calm down…

Damn, he should have called to cancel for tonight. You had a date night planned, you had told him you would come to his place early to start preparing dinner. You weren’t living together but he had a change of keys to your place, and you had one to his. He didn’t need to be home for you to come in.

Yesterday, Andrew was thinking about asking you to move in with him, to make a common home out of his large house.

She’d never say yes to you anyway…

He clenched his jaw, until his teeth gritted.

Just voices. Just voices. He was okay, he was fine…

It was just dinner, and it would be lovely. He loved you, he would have a great time…

He blinked his eyes open, brushed the wetness from his eyelashes.

Put on a brave face for her, come on…

He released some of the tension across his jaw, finally let go of the steering wheel. The soreness in his fingers made him realise how tightly he had been holding it.

He had no strength left in his body to open the car door, but he did it anyway. He was kind of used to it, the falls that followed the heights. It hadn’t happened in a long time. So bad, out of nowhere? Probably a year. Yeah, not long after the two of you started dating. It was pretty smooth after that. There were days when he didn’t feel great, but he didn’t feel terrible. With no energy left in his frame, no positive thoughts on his mind, no faith in himself, and no social battery either. Usually, when he felt like this, he simply locked himself up for a couple of days. The solitude usually helped. And now, he needed to be left alone, or at least he thought so. Besides, he would be in a terrible mood all evening, you would properly get tired of the sight and his sharp tone very quickly. And he didn’t want to take it out on you, it wasn’t fair, and he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. He was too tired to be angry anyway.

He unlocked the front door, was welcomed by the smell of spices. It should have made him smile, but instead, his heart clenched.

He took off his shoes and jacket, slowly, too slowly. Any other day he would have hurried to join you.

Tonight, all he wanted was to be alone, to not talk to anyone, to get out of his clothes that felt like a burden too heavy to carry, and get under the covers, and lie there for the rest of the night, and maybe throughout tomorrow too.

Instead, he walked to his kitchen, nervously rubbing at his palms. God, he bet he looked terrible. He didn’t have a hair tie, and his hair was frizzy with the humid air, and he felt so fucking ugly when he entered the room, knowing he looked like a mess in sweatpants and an old t-shirt when you looked stunning, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen…

You didn’t seem to notice, because when you saw him, you let out an excited gasp and hurried into his arms.

Why did the feeling of you in his embrace make him want to cry?

“Hi, baby! How was your day?”

He cradled the back of your head in his large hand, gently, as if you could break under his touch. He rested his lips on the top of your head, took a deep breath of your shampoo, the scent so familiar, so soothing, so reassuring…

He closed his eyes.

It lasted a couple of seconds, and then the voices were back.

One day she’ll see you can’t make her happy…

He pulled away.

“Good,” he answered elusively, forcing a smile, but he knew it was tight-lipped. “Busy.”

“Did you get some work done with Alex, then?”

“Hmm… loads.”

“Good! You must be tired then, you can sit down, I’m almost done!”

He looked at the meal you were making for the two of you. You had set up the table, had even lit up some candles. It was fucking nice, so damn romantic…

“Smells amazing,” he complimented, but you seemed to notice that there was no light left in his voice. “Gonna take a shower before joining you, okay?”

“Sure! But… you’re okay, honey?”

Honey… Honey…

“Yeah, just… tired. Long day. I won’t take long.”

You nodded, offering a smile and he did his best to give it back.

He thought the shower would help, but it didn’t. He almost let the floodgates open while the warm water numbed his muscles, made his body feel like it wasn’t there at all. He had even less strength as he walked out of the shower. But at least, now, he was wearing a shirt and black jeans, and he had tied his hair in a low bun, looking close to presentable. He was wearing his glasses, he didn’t have the energy to put some contacts on.

When he entered the kitchen again, you had poured some red wine, were humming to a tune he didn’t know, checking the cooking of your vegetables.

“Almost done! Perfect timing!” you announced with pride.

“Thank you for cooking tonight,” he let out in a breath.

He knew his shoulders were bent, he knew you had noticed the way he was trying to look as small as possible. He read it in your frown. He nervously rubbed at his collarbone, felt irritated now.

She’s doing all this for you, you can’t get mad for nothing. It’s not her fault, calm down.

He sat down, as you invited him to do so. You brought food a couple of minutes later, and he asked you about your day. But unlike any other day, it wasn’t out of genuine curiosity and fondness; he simply didn’t want to speak.

He had done a good job at playing pretend the rest of the day, but he had no energy left to keep the mask on. The cracks were all over his features, in every forced smile, in every glance, in every blinking of tears. Your food was delicious, he complimented you on it, forced himself to swallow it fully, even if he felt like he might throw up if he kept on eating.

“Andy?”

He looked up again, noticing all of a sudden that he hadn’t paid attention to the conversation in a few minutes.

“Hmm?”

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

You offered him a kind smile, reached for his hand across the table. An anchor, an intimate gesture of support.

His throat tightened, he couldn’t find his voice.

“Baby… it’s just me. Why are you all closed up all of a sudden?”

He gave you a sad smile, although he had aimed for it to be reassuring.

“Just…”

Just tired was the excuse, but then again, he didn’t feel like lying now. Didn’t have the strength for it. Maybe if he were honest now, you’d show him the voices were right, you’d realise what a loser he could be sometimes, how you should leave…

Shut! Up!

“It’s just… it’s just a bad day.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I mean… nothing in particular, I just… I don’t know… sometimes my head gets messy with thoughts for no reason. I’ve been working a lot for the past couple of months, it’s more frequent when I’m tired.”

Slowly, you nodded.

“It’s pretty bad today, right?” you asked, and he nodded.

“I’m sorry. Your meal is truly delicious, and I was really excited about having a date night. I know I’m kind of… fucking up the mood.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” he asked with bitterness in his voice, and he clenched his jaw at the sound.

He wouldn’t let himself get angry against you. He was in love with you. So fucking much. And you didn’t deserve that.

“There’s nothing wrong with feeling down sometimes, Andy.”

He looked down at his empty plate.

“It’s a bit worse than that.”

He heaved a sigh.

“I’m fine though, it just… It just needs to pass. I’ll be back to normal in a couple of days.”

“What do you usually do when something like that happens?”

“Erm… I just… shut down, basically. Wallow in self-pity for a while,” he tried to joke, managed to get a smile out of you. “I just… lock myself up on my own until I feel really low, and then I go out, and… it lingers a few days, sometimes a few weeks, but by then I can put a mask on again.”

“Do you put that mask on with me?”

“It hadn’t been so bad in a long time.”

“And when it’s not as bad?”

He shrugged.

“There’s no need to worry you about that.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“I’m your girlfriend. I tell you when I’m unwell.”

He started rubbing at his collarbone again, until the skin turned a bright shade of red.

“I don’t particularly enjoy talking about it,” he replied, his tone dry and distant.

“But I… you know you can trust me, right? That you can talk with me about these things…”

“I know… It just doesn’t help. I know how to handle this, I’m fine. I promise.”

Slowly, you nodded, but he could feel that your silence was a bad sign.

“So… usually, you just… spend time alone?”

“Yeah.”

“And it helps.”

“Yeah… yeah, it does. I just… I’m kind of introverted, in case you haven’t noticed,” he gave you a small smile. “I recharge my batteries when I’m alone.”

You seemed to be thinking for a few seconds, and then you were standing. He looked up at you in surprise.

“I should leave you alone, then.”

“Wh… what?”

“You said you needed to be alone… you should have told me, I would have let you have a moment on your own. It’s fine. I get it, if that’s what you need.”

He blinked up, not fully registering what you were doing. His brain jumped to the worst-case scenario, as per usual.

“Are you… are you breaking up with me?”

“What?! Of course, not!”

“You… you’re leaving…”

“Because you said you needed to be on your own for the evening. That’s okay. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

You heaved a sigh, took his hand in yours.

“Andy, I’m very happy with you. I know you love me. There’s nothing wrong in needing to spend some time on your own. You should have just told me. I’ll give you some space for tonight.”

You took his face in your hands, dropped a gentle kiss to his lips.

“I love you, baby,” you whispered as you pulled away. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

And with that you left the room. He heard you fumbling with your things in the hallway.

Being alone was what he needed. He had always longed to take a step back from everyone, even his partners, when he felt like this.

Except that tonight he didn’t want you to leave. He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted to hold you as tightly as he could, and cuddle in bed, and just forget about the world outside your arms, let you hold him until he couldn’t have a single thought anymore…

He jumped to his feet, rushing across the house as you put on your coat.

“Don’t go.”

The plea cut the air like a knife.

He blinked tears away.

“Please, don’t go. I don’t want you to go,” he confessed.

“But you said…”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“I won’t be mad if you want to take the night for yourself.”

“Y/N. I don’t. Want you. To go.”

He struggled to swallow back the lump in his throat.

“Please… please, don’t leave.”

You stared at him for a moment, motionless. But then you put your coat back on its hanger, took off your shoes.

When you walked back to him, he almost started to cry.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes… please…”

Before you could say anything else, he was holding you in a tight embrace, one that you quickly reciprocated.

“What do you want us to do, then?” you asked, rubbing his back, and for the first time that day, he felt his muscles relax.

“Honestly… I just want to go to bed, cuddle with you and not move until… the end of the month.”

You laughed, kissing his shoulder through his shirt.

“Well, we’ll have to get up before that I’m afraid… but cuddling for the rest of the evening sounds nice.”

He heaved a relieved sigh.

“I’m sorry, I’m fucking up our date night… it was so lovely of you to cook and everything…”

“It’s okay. It’s fine.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Of course not.”

“Good… that’s grand…”

He finally pulled away, took your hand to guide you to his bedroom. The dishes would have to wait for tomorrow.

He got ready for bed first, and then waited for you. And while he was looking at you as you moved around the bed, plugging in your phone, setting up an alarm for the morning, drinking some water… all he wanted was to hold you close. You were the first person who made him feel that way. Who made him long for companionship even when he felt so low…

… and then, you were in bed, opening your arms for him to settle in your embrace, letting him bury his face in the crook of your neck.

Perhaps this one time, his busy brain was wrong. Perhaps you wouldn’t leave. Perhaps he would stay. And maybe, just this one time, not all things would end…

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier fic #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #writing #oneshot #hozier oneshot

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stevie-petey · 1 year ago

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we don't talk about it (we don't have the time)

﹂ season one of “come home”

being dustin henderson's older sister and jonathan byers' best friend is usually an uneventful affair, but when will byers goes missing and a girl with a shaved head claims she has super powers, your duties as a sister and a best friend become a lot more complicated. (it also makes your feelings suddenly complicated, which you're choosing to ignore). (and steve harrington definitely isn't helping). (as usual).

episode one: the vanishing of will byers - jonathan smuggles you free food in exchange for friendship, will goes missing the one time you listen to jonathan, hopper doesn't really like you, and steve harrington almost hits you with his car as you're sobbing like a damn baby (in a cool way).

episode two: the weirdo on maple street - you use your limited psych knowledge to help a bald girl, you force jonathan to accept $20 and he's later an ass to you, steve doesn't know what a "missing" poster looks like, and it's really hard being a single mother to now four kids.

episode three: holly, jolly - you and jonathan talk it out and things are better (spoiler alert: they aren't), you somehow end up agreeing with steve harrington ?? then you have a minor breakdown in front of the kids and once again fail to prevent them from experiencing more trauma.

episode four: the body - you basically have a "no babe don't cry over ur dead brother ur so sexy" moment with jonathan, hopper plays mr love doctor (cute date idea: coffin shopping), and somehow nancy wheeler makes you realize that you're a horrible babysitter and an even bigger idiot. meanwhile: steve harrington is frustratingly charming.

episode five: the flea and the acrobat - you and dustin have a long overdue Sibling Moment, at will's funeral you and jonathan exchange information and surprise ! it's all horrible news ! nancy has awful timing and when you leave her alone with jonathan one damn time you and steve end up trauma bonded on her front porch #bffs.

episode six: the monster - so nancy and jonathan are a Thing now and you really just need a good nap, the three of you go shopping for monster hunting supplies (which honestly isn't the weirdest thing you've done this week), an old man sells you a sentimental knife, and steve kind of accidentally kidnaps you with a sexy black eye.

episode seven: the bathtub - your brother basically places himself on the fbi's most wanted list and el flips a van with her mind, now you have to create a giant salt tub because of course you do, nancy tries Talking About It but hasn't she read the title ? you don't have the time. sidenote: you've somehow become a steve defender during these trying times. typical. meanwhile: steve's inner thoughts are pathetic.

episode eight: the upside down - drinking game time ! take a shot every time jonathan tries ditching you or every time you almost die at the byers house, you find out that steve really is an athlete and tbh it's hot, but you know what's even hotter ? saving hawkins and reaching a tentative compromise with steve after he loans you $5 for snacks. after, jonathan makes a promise you really hope he can keep.

⌑ set between seasons 1 and 2

﹂ episode nine: the beginning - BONUS EPISODE TIME ! steve becomes bookstrorindary's favorite loyal costumer, jonathan buys you a bug for christmas, you freak out your poor coworker alex, and suddenly steve is really hot and you're feeling so many feelings (bad ! it's all bad !).

⌑ status: FINISHED

⌑ season one title based on this song x

⌑ blurbs set within "come home" can be found here x

⌑ “come home” season masterlist

*note: this is a part of my stranger things rewrite, “come home”, and other seasons can be found linked above :)

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #stranger things rewrite #ch season one #wdtai masterlist #m's writing

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avonne-writes · 3 months ago

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Carry You Home

A post-war kitty Gale (cat shifter Gale) drabble written for the "LCAPT fic off" game initiated by @middlingmay. And it’s a gift for @butdaddyilovehim99 💕 Featuring the most Gale-looking cat pic ever. Thanks @swifty-fox for brainstorming with me! (On AO3)

The sticky seed of some unfamiliar weed sticks to the fur on Gale’s legs, but he ignores the uncomfortable tugging sensation and just keeps running. Away, far away, anywhere but here. He’s done with this whole charade. To hell with it all. John can go find some other fool who can stand his goddamn womanizing.

Gale doesn’t care that it's only a facade. Sometimes, he wants to be the one being wooed and not watch John flirt with someone else. He thought... He thought they would go on a date, just the two of them, to the pretty creek in the woods close to town. All the exciting, cheerful sounds of the forest, the clear air, enough space and privacy for Gale to shift back and forth when he wanted. But John had to ruin it by chatting up three women who were on a walk.

They could have let the ladies pass and waited to be alone again, but John just had to do it, didn’t he? Maybe he didn’t want to be alone with Gale at all. He could have been looking for an excuse to cut their date short all along. Instead of laughing and walking with Gale, he charmed those girls until they were drawn to him like moths to the light, and Gale, sour in his disappointment, was left to trail behind until they finally parted ways.

Then, the fight. That terrible fight. It wasn’t too decent of Gale to snap the way he did, but it hurt so much to watch John flash his best smile at the girls, to touch their arms under one excuse or another, the way he should have touched Gale instead. Gale's tired of it. He can’t stand it anymore, to see the affection that's meant to be his given to another while he’s right there.

John didn’t understand - or didn’t want to - so, Gale shifted and ran away. It didn’t take more than five seconds and he was out of John's sight. Being small makes it easier to hide among the bushes. To disappear. He doesn’t matter anyway. He’s no one. Perhaps, he won't ever shift back again. Why bother? He’ll just live the rest of his years as a wildcat, nothing but the forest and the freedom of no expectations. He can live alone and -

"Gale!" John's cry interrupts Gale's thoughts. "Gale, please! Come on, doll, don't do this to me."

Gale stops to crouch low in the underbrush, his heart pounding wildly. His coat is too bright and clean to hide him among all the greens, browns and greys around, but he’s covered by a few thick shrubs and wide leaves where he is. He curls his fluffy tail close to his body and waits. He won't be spotted unless he moves.

"I'm sorry, okay?" John tells the forest plaintively. The canopies above them whoosh in sympathy. "I didn’t mean to hurt you, sweetheart, I didn’t mean it like that."

What you meant doesn't change anything, Gale makes a low, angry sound that John, thankfully, doesn't hear as he jogs down the path in front of Gale's hiding place.

"Shit." John mutters under his breath and runs a hand through his curls. At first, Gale thinks it's because of Gale not folding to his pleading, but a moment later, he sees the fake, wide smile that appears on John's face.

"Egan? That you?" An unfamiliar voice calls, and Gale is alarmed to see a stocky, middle-aged man with a camera approach John from the opposite direction they came from.

"Frank, buddy, the hell are you doin' out here?" John says and clasps the man's outstretched hand in greeting.

Frank launches into a long-winded story about bird watching and photography, and how his wife kicked him out of the house just to get some peace. From his vantage point under the shrubs, low on the cool forest soil, Gale can see John nodding along politely, but his eyes keep darting to the woods, searching for a flash of white that gives Gale away. After a while, Frank notices too.

"Everything okay?" He asks John, concerned.

"Yeah, just looking for my... my cat." John replies awkwardly, putting his hands on his hips the way he always does. Despite his pain and anger, Gale feels a tinge of fondness at the sight.

"You brought your cat out here?" Frank frowns. There’s something like pity in his expression, which makes Gale huff in irritation. Everything their generation does is chalked up to the fucking war, isn’t it?

"He likes going on walks with me." John says, fully turning away. "Gale!"

"Gale? Like your roommate?" Frank asks, his eyebrows trying to meet his receding hairline.

John falters for a moment, embarrassed that he slipped up in his panic to find Gale. "It’s a joke."

"Oh." Frank's face smooths out and he barks a laugh. "Let me help, the two of us will find him faster."

"Oh, I don't want to keep you."

"Nonsense." Frank claps John's shoulder. "My wife says my eyes are so keen I should've been a detective."

John chuckles good-naturedly. "If she says so, Frankie."

Frank walks towards the woods on the opposite side of the path from where Gale’s hiding. "What does your cat look like?"

John sighs. "Cream-white fur, white paws, bushy tail. Piercing blue eyes. As big as a small dog."

Sounds about right, Gale notes with satisfaction. He glares daggers at John. He hopes he can feel it.

Frank whistles. "Must be one mighty creature."

Gale preens. The sad look on John's face is especially vindicating.

"The most beautiful thing I've ever seen." John says quietly as he starts walking along the treeline again. "He's my best friend, you know. My partner. I just wish I knew what's going on in his head. It’s so hard to read him sometimes, and I don't realize I've done something wrong until it’s too late. I just want to make him happy, keep him safe."

An ache swells deep in Gale's chest and rolls through his whole body until the bitterness of his anger fades away to the illusion of salty tears. He can’t cry in this shape but he wants to. He wants it to rain down over his cheeks in big, fat drops, over the scars, for John to wipe and kiss them away, to whisper promises he can’t keep and tell Gale he loves him more than anything. He wants that, still - it hurts, but he wants it. As his impulsiveness vanishes, he realizes that life in the forest wouldn’t suffice. He would always long for Bucky.

"Sounds like a marriage." Frank snorts, shaking a few bushes that sends nearby critters running across the fallen leaves. Gale hears them scurry away from where he is.

"You bet." John laughs ruefully. "Feels like one too."

The cry escapes Gale’s throat before he could clamp down on the feeling that sparks it. It's a quiet, sad little meow but it stands out from the forest's low buzz regardless.

John's head whips up in his direction. "Gale?"

No use hiding anymore. Gale pushes himself up and walks out of the underbrush like some kicked pet, putting his paws on the path hesitantly because he’s not sure yet if he's ready to forgive everything or not. His tail rises in greeting, but when John darts towards him with a beaming, relieved smile on his face, Gale hisses at him.

"I'm sorry!" John raises his hands placatingly, then, in a quieter voice, "I'm sorry, doll."

"Oh my! What a beauty!" Frank exclaims when he spots Gale, his expression one of wonder.

Feeling shy and wary, Gale rushes over to John and weaves himself around his ankles, putting his front paws on John's right boot as he stares the stranger down. He doesn’t know where the hell the guy knows John from, doesn’t care - he just wants him to leave them alone, to give him a chance to shift back and let John give him a proper apology. He’s so focused on keeping his eyes on the man that he forgets he's angry long enough for John to stroke his head. But when the touch reminds him, he growls.

"Don’t be like that." John nudges him, then reaches lower to remove the spikelets stuck in Gale's fur. Irritated beyond belief, Gale bites his fingers, satisfied when John winces, but the hand doesn’t move far - it slides over Gale's back and combs at his fur.

"Hi Gale." Frank crouches down a few feet away, cooing like an idiot. Gale gives him a disdainful look. Honestly, this is the worst thing about being a cat. Interacting with people who want to touch him. "You weren't kidding when you said he was pretty. Never seen such a gorgeous cat in my life. What a unique colour. His fur is immaculate. And look at those eyes! Damn."

"I know." John says, all affectionate. If he thinks that's enough to make up with Gale, he’s sorely mistaken. "Sky blue."

Gale leans against John's leg. A part of him enjoys the praise. People always tend to heap it on him in this shape but never say anything when he's in his human form. His mom, for example, when he still lived in Wyoming. The only exceptions to that are Marge and John, the only people who saw the value in giving him compliments no matter how he stood in front of them. Gale learnt to take appreciation where he got it, even if it was received as a cat. Frank, of course, is unaware that Gale, the cat, and Gale, John's roommate are one and the same, but his words of awe feel good. Gale extends his legs in front of him and stretches, showing off his looks.

"If I were you, I would put a collar on him." Frank says.

"Nah, he's pretty good about comin' home to papa." John replies, a teasing note in his voice. For that, Gale reaches up to drag his clawed paws over the leg of John's trousers until John yelps and pushes him off. Frank laughs.

"Boy, my wife will be so jealous." He shakes his head, smiling. "Can I pet him?"

Gale’s answering noise of warning comes instantly.

"Ah, he doesn’t like strangers, sorry, Frankie." John says for him. Good. At least that much of Gale's feelings he does understand.

Frank waves him off and stands up. "I understand. I would love to photograph him, though. Proof for the missus." He winks.

John chuckles. Gale tilts his head back to glance at him and finds him looking back. Something he sees in Gale's eyes encourages him to reach down and scoop Gale up into his arms. It’s easier to let him than to protest.

"Why not?"

---

About a dozen photos later, John finally tries to say goodbye to Frank, but they're unlucky - the man decides to go the same way John's headed. He must be lonely, Gale figures, but it doesn't make it any less annoying that for lack of a graceful way to get out of the situation, John starts walking with the man while holding Gale in his arms.

It's comfortable, at least. Holding Gale just right in both forms has always been one of John's special talents. This time, Gale's paws dangle over his arm and his head rests in the crook of John's elbow. Since John can’t exactly put him down when he has just caught Gale after he ran away, it’s no use fighting it.

Resigned, Gale relaxes. He’s just a cat now. Loved and cherished openly where everyone can see. Something precious John can hold tight right where his heart beats, and no one bats an eye.

It’s bittersweet, but Gale will take it. The fight seeped out of him somewhere between John calling him his partner and the first apologetic caress over his silky fur. Gale tunes the conversation out and just drifts on the sense of peace and safety he feels in John's arms as the gentle sounds of the forest ripple around them along the path. After a few minutes, he falls asleep.

He doesn’t know how much time passed when he wakes up, but he’s still lying in John's arms, still warm against John's chest, but Frank is, at last, gone. They're almost at the edge of the forest, close to where their truck parks.

"Jesus Christ, finally." John blows out a noisy breath and swipes his thumbs back and forth over Gale’s fur. "Coast's clear if you wanna shift back."

Gale lets his eyes slip closed again and doesn’t move a single other muscle. He can feel John trying to lean over him to see his face better.

"Did you fall asleep?" John rocks him. As a reply, Gale moves his head in a way that looks like he’s saying no. It makes John snort. "Are you still mad at me?"

When no answer comes, John presses his face close to Gale. "Let’s talk about it."

Another shake of the head.

"What, you want me to hold you the rest of the way?"

Gale nods.

John laughs, sweet and rumbling against Gale's body. "All right, doll. I got you. I'll carry you home."

Although he knows he shouldn't, Gale purrs.

#mota #buck x bucky #gale cleven #john egan #clegan #my writing #kitty gale #Clegan LCAPT fic

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earl-grey-teacake · 6 months ago

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For the Victorian Loscar romcom I’m writing, I am am brainstorming and this is what I have so far.

1. Logan in dresses

Dresses- gloves with lace trim, pastel dresses, corsets, silk stockings, etc.

Potential scene- Oscar having a crisis after seeing a bit of the silk stockings and making it everyone’s problem. He feels like he is going to hell for thinking about the golden haired boy that way. He thinks about undoing the laces on the corset and sends himself to church to pray for forgiveness.

2. Alex is the mom

Doting, teasing mother to a husband who is about to have an aneurysm from all the proposal letters. “I love Love”

*I just think Logan calling Alex “mom” would be cute and absolutely hilarious *

Potential scene- “Mom, please!” Logan pleaded, practically begging on his knees.

“Logan, if you don’t have a chaperone, you can’t go. Besides, your mother has an event tomorrow.” George remained steadfast.

“I’ll go.” Alex smiled, eyes filled with mirth and mischief.

“Yes!”

“My dear!” George whipped his head around with a look of utter betrayal. Perhaps stabbing him in the chest would’ve been kinder than the blow his beloved just dealt.

“The Countess Stroll has fallen ill so the outings been cancelled. Besides, the boy seemed quite dedicated in the flowers he sent this morning. Did you see them Georgie? They look like the one you sent me when you proposed marriage.”

3. Carlos being the biggest shipper so Oscar can leave him and Lando alone.

Oscar making his heartache everyone’s problem is preventing Carlos from enjoying his time with his bride.

Potential scene-

“What do you think?” Oscar held up a third catalog. “Ruby or just solid gold.”

Carlos wanted to cry, they’ve been at this for hours.

“Hmmm.” Lando pondered. “Maybe solid gold? It’ll go with more outfits.”

“Is it too plain thought?”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“The golden topaz bracelet in the previous catalog.” Carlos joined in.

“Huh? Are you sure?” Oscar searched for the page.

“The sapphire tie pin gifted to you is blue, the color of Logan’s house. The color of your house is orange so you gift something orange.”

The British were so unromantic it made him sick.

Additional scene- “Oscar, go over there and offer to walk with Logan.” Carlos ordered

“Hey, you don’t tell me what to do.”

“Listen to me. You will go over there and offer to walk Logan. There is a rocky, unstable path a bit farther down where you will offer to help him. I swear if I do not see his hand in yours I will shove you off the cliff.”

Let me know what you think!

Feel free to comment in the comments or in the tags or just message me. I will respond ❤️

#Victorian Loscar Romcom #Loscar #f1 rpf #f1 rpf fic #galex #carlando

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andbreakmynose · 2 months ago

Text

every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own

part 1

your first date with the hot single dad you may or may not work for...

(the car! alex, single dad! alex)

WARNINGS: SMUT, feelings, age gap (reader is mid 20s), p-in-v (protected), oral (f receiving)

WORD COUNT: 5k

You hadn’t been this giddy over a man since Aiden Grant called you pretty on an Instagram post when you were 12, although you also hadn’t been with anyone like Alex fucking Turner.

Barely anyone knew you even worked for Alex; he didn’t want them to for his own privacy. You understood that, he was a private person and especially so when it came to his child. You didn’t have a problem with telling acquaintances that you worked for a rich man and not saying anything else, they usually understood. It’s never been a problem until now.

When you came home after that fateful night all giggly and smiling your roommate had more than a few questions. The alcohol in your system got you dangerously close to spilling but you came up with some lie last minute, you couldn’t remember what you said in that drunken haze but apparently it was enough to get Claire off your case.

You wanted to tell her though, you wanted to tell the world and you couldn’t. It was eating you alive that you couldn’t tell anyone that you had kissed - no, fucked - Alex Turner. Not in a bragging way, in the way that you wanted someone to tell you to calm down and slap some sense into you. You wanted to be able to ask someone for advice, to know that you weren’t making some grave mistake. It was times like these you wished that you took that advertisement in the mail for three months of free therapy.

Alex, in a sort of way, became that person. He was too busy to really talk the rest of the week, but his gentle gestures like kissing you before you left gave you enough reassurance to make it through the night without freaking out.

He felt the same way, there was this underlying fear in his bones that he really had done something terrible. It’s not that he thought he was taking advantage of you, no you’re a grown adult. But you’re the grown adult he has employed, he can’t lose that. If he worked for a company this would’ve been an HR violation. That was a bad feeling.

Waiting for Friday would be unbearable if you weren’t so damn busy. Toddlers don’t have time to accommodate for a complicated love life and it seemed that neither did Alex’s schedule. He wanted you to know that he cared and he was genuinely looking forward to having an actual date with you, but it seemed that every time he tried to start a conversation his daughter would start crying or his phone would start ringing.

It isn't until Wednesday that he actually gets you alone. He has enough time to slip home and grab lunch, and it's late enough that Ayla is already sound asleep for her nap. When he sees you sitting alone on the sofa, his heart swells. There's already something domestic about the scene: you, in his house, comfortable on his furniture. No signs of work, just relaxation—and he likes that.

“Hey. Had a few minutes to sneak out.” He sneaks into the living room, startling you slightly before you smile warmly. You can’t be upset with him, not even for a second—his presence is just too warm.

“There’s some leftover mac and cheese on the stovetop if you want it. Not exactly fine dining, but it was pretty good.” Your words make him laugh, and that feels good. He has a nice laugh, and you feel a sense of pride knowing you made it happen.

“I’ll pack some and take it back to the studio. Don’t really have much time,” he says, glancing down at his watch—probably more expensive than your car. “But I did want to talk. Y’know, about Friday.”

You nod and sit up properly, straightening your back so you don’t look lazy. He notices but doesn’t comment; it’s cute to him that you’re still trying to impress him when he already finds you so special.

“So I’ve been thinking... and talking...” He leans against the doorway, smiling. “I made a reservation at that restaurant for 6:30, and I’ve already talked to Matt. He’s more than happy to watch Ayla for the night. You know how excited she’ll be to see them.” He beams at his own productivity, clearly pleased with how he’s going above and beyond for you.

The mention of Matt confuses you. You’ve been nervous about even mentioning the situation to your sister, and yet Alex already told Matt? It makes sense, you guess—Matt understands celebrity life and knows how to keep secrets. He seems decent enough from the few times you’ve met him, but the idea still makes you feel something strange.

“Matt knows about... us?” you ask, hesitating slightly. You don’t want to seem upset—you’re not upset—but you do want clarification.

Alex picks up on your nerves instantly. It’s obvious in the way your fingers dig into your knee and your teeth worry at your lip. He shakes his head, chuckling. “Don’t worry about that. I told him an old friend is coming to town for drinks and that you weren’t available anyway.”

Damn Alex and his talent for easing your nerves. You exhale the deepest breath you’ve taken in a while. It’s all good. “Ah, okay. I was just wondering if you were telling the whole world about us,” you joke, knowing he isn’t. You needed to say something to lighten the mood, more for yourself than for him.

He laughs at your joke, and he doesn’t even need to say no—you already know he wouldn’t want to jinx things yet. He’s about to speak again when his watch buzzes, prompting a disappointed sigh. He doesn’t want to leave, he’d rather spend all day staring into your wide, pretty eyes.

“I’m excited for tomorrow, yeah? We’ll drop her off at 6:00 and then head out. I really am excited. You don’t even know.” He sounds slightly nervous, and it’s cute to see that you can make him feel that way. You don’t know what you did to deserve it.

"I’m excited too.” Your voice is warm, matching the smile on your face. You’re not entirely sure what to say, but you know just how excited you are to have something with him. His expression softens as he lifts himself from the doorframe.

“I’ll see you later, darling. Take care.” And with that, he’s gone, but you can’t blame him—you know how busy he always is. The word "darling" bounces around in your head, a reminder that this isn’t a dream. He really does like you.

Thursday night is spent stressing over what to wear. You know Alex will show up in his usual suit—one of his quirks that drives you wild—but you don’t want to overdo it. It’s just dinner, but your work clothes won’t cut it. You certainly can’t show up in sweats to a date with Alex Turner.

You settle on a dress you haven’t worn since your ex-classmates wedding to her now ex-husband. It’s not the nicest, but it will do. You have a sneaking suspicion that Alex would like you in a trash bag anyway. You roll the dress up and tuck it in your bag—no way you’re wearing it to work where it’d end up covered in marker and spit.

Friday’s anxiety convinces you that you’re doing your job horribly. You must have forgotten something or messed up because your mind is all Alex, Alex, Alex, like he’s a parasite who’s crawled into your brain.

Knowing he’ll be home around 5:30, you start getting ready at exactly 5:15. You make sure to look presentable, curling your hair and applying a layer of concealer. He’s seen you at your worst—covered in child vomit—but you still want him to see you at your best.

Right on time, he unlocks the front door, and Ayla immediately bounds over to him. He laughs, picking her up and setting her on his hip before his eyes sweep over you. You look good—you always look good—but this time, it’s something else.

He clears his throat, giving a small smile. “You look that good to me?” You don’t want to blush, but you’re sure your face is bright red. Of course, you dressed up for him.

“Nah. I dressed up to get spit on,” you joke, stepping forward and ruffling Ayla’s hair just like Alex did. He smiles at the closeness, free from the stresses of the day and surrounded by the people he cares about the most. It’s a good feeling.

He chuckles at your words, raising his eyebrows and making a quizzical face at his daughter as if she’s hiding something. She just babbles, reaching out to pull his sunglasses off and throw them on the floor. Alex shakes his head, pretending to care. You laugh, silently thanking her for letting you see Alex’s eyes again. He really does have the nicest eyes.

“Those were my nice pair, you rascal.” You’ve never heard him upset and this is no exception, even when he’s pretending to be upset he still has so much love in his voice. “Y’know I was gonna surprise ya by taking you to Uncle Matt’s for the night but it seems like you’re being a little punk tonight.” The girl immediately cries out and shakes her head, protesting just the thought of not going to Matt’s.

“Aw alright, you’re too darn cute to deny. Plus I have to do things anyways tonight.” This makes Ayla clap excitedly and make small noises, Alex giving her a smile before looking up with a wink. You secretly knew that the plans he had tonight consisted of you, and you wink right back at him. “You pack her night bag?” He asks you, it was the one thing he asked in the morning so of course you did it. You were always 10 steps ahead and he loved that.

“Mhm!” You nod and gesture to the pony-printed bag behind you. It was a gift you had gotten her for Valentine’s day earlier this year. Alex nods and walks over, daughter still in hand, to grab the bag and swing it over his shoulder. He’s signaling that it’s time to go.

You follow after him silently into his black sports car, taking Ayla from him to help buckle her into her carseat. You hop in the passenger's side and he sets the radio to the kid’s channel. Alex looks back at his daughter with a wide grin, even if he doesn’t particularly tolerate these songs he knows that it makes her happy. He starts to sing along to some song about waffles, god it’s awful but somehow his crooning makes it sound like a 1950s love song. You smile at the scene while Alex pulls out of the driveway.

That’s how the whole drive goes, it’s only about 15 minutes but all 15 of them are spent with Alex singing his heart out just to please his kid. “Is this on the new album?” You remark with a teasing grin at one song about silly snakes, Alex just laughs and reaches out to gently swat your arm.

That moment confirmed to you that your relationship with Alex had changed, not a single other person you worked with would have touched you. And Alex wasn’t just touching you sexually but he was touching you in a warm, familial way. For a second it felt just like you were old lovers and your kid, not what you really were.

It’s an easy handoff to Matt, Ayla is excited to see everyone and all you really have to do is hand off the night bag, Alex trusts them enough that he doesn’t even consider worrying for the night. When he’s sure the door is shut he takes your hand in his, leading you back to the car. You’ve come to love his hands; they were gentle and warm, yet also calloused from years of experience. They were the most Alex Turner hands you could possibly think of.

He starts the car again, making sure to shift the stereo to his personal mix of 2000s garage rock and 1960s french jazz. It was such an eclectic combination but it told you everything you needed to know about him, you felt warm as he hummed along to the words you didn’t really understand.

The restaurant was about a 30 minute drive, it was mostly silent besides the few times Alex pointed out things in the city. He showed you which venues he had played and which stores he had shopped in, he made sure to recommend the sweaters at some luxury store that you couldn’t pronounce the name of. When you told him you loved his sweaters he made a mental note to get one for you for the holidays, or to lend you one of his own.

Like he said, the restaurant is formal but cozy. It reminds you of something from Lady and the Tramp, or maybe Ayla had just made you watch that movie on repeat in the past week. He hands the keys off to the valet worker and grabs at your hand again, leading you inside.

“Turner, party of 2,” he says to the hostess with a smooth voice, looking over at you to remind you that you’re his party, his date. The hostess grabs two menus and leads you to a secluded booth in the corner. There’s a candle and roses on the table, which you didn’t notice at any others. Maybe he had done that special just for you.

He orders the two of you a glass of wine and a basket of bread, pointing out his favorite items on the menu. You decide on some fancy seafood pasta, Alex mumbling that it was a good choice.

This is your first time ever alone with Alex for a prolonged period, you’re not quite sure what to expect. He starts the conversation off easily, asking about your day and telling you about his. The endless flow of drinks and food (everytime you ask to order something he says yes - reassuring you that he couldn't care less about the price) makes it all really easy. There’s just chemistry between you and Alex.

He tells you about touring and you tell him about your childhood dog, he tells you what it’s like to be famous and you tell him about your experience in college. There’s such a difference in lifestyles but it doesn’t seem to matter at this moment, he’s completely enthralled by your life. It almost feels like you’re sharing similar experiences, he understands everything you say and is able to respond in such a damn charming way.

The food is unreasonably good, like maybe in the top five you’ve ever had. The flavors are rich and you wonder for a second how you’ll go back to fast food and microwaved dinners after this. At some point Alex decides he wants a bite from your plate so he puts his fork in it, there’s an awkward clash of arms that has you both giggling.

“You want some of mine? It’s only fair,” he asks you, a small amount of pasta sauce stuck under his bottom lip. You want to reach out and fix it but you’re too preoccupied with his words. You give a nod and he picks up his fork, grabbing a piece of chicken and bringing it to your lips. You were totally fine with getting your own bite but he had different plans, and the scene made you feel more like you were in Lady and the Tramp.

His food was also too damn good and you let out a satisfied groan, him grinning and reaching out to clean your lip. You figure since he did it you can do it too, so you take your thumb and gently wipe down his lip. It’s a quiet sort of encounter but it’s full of so much tension and unspoken words, god why was pasta sauce turning you on?

He finally removes his hand from your face and wraps his arm around you, pulling you to his side. You can tell at that moment that you’ve crossed a bridge and probably won’t be able to keep your hands off each other anymore, it’s good that there isn’t that much food left.

He keeps his arm tight against you as you eat, like he’s afraid you’ll run on him. The food doesn’t take too long to finish, at least on your behalf. It’s so good that you can’t stop filling your mouth. And when you’re done and Alex has a bit left it’s a treat that you get to watch him eat for a second, his mouth alternates between telling stories and chewing, his perfect lips always moving.

The waiter asks if you want dessert but you two were both too full, and Alex gives you a look that says he has dessert prepared for later. It’s a silent promise that reminds you of what happened last time we were together and has your heart beating faster in anticipation.

He pays the bill (you don’t even bother to look at how many figures are on there) and then takes you back to his car. His hand never leaves your back, sometimes drifting down to the curves of your ass. The valet man hands him his keys back, he tips heavily, and you’re heading back to his place. Nervous anticipation fills both of your throats.

“That was maybe the best food I’ve ever had.” You tell him as you take a seat in his car, buckling your seatbelt and smiling at him.

He nods and hums, following your actions and expression, “Glad you think so. I’m pretty fond of it myself.” He starts the car and his music begins to play again, you had heard this song before. Maybe because of him. “I really like that dress on you sweetheart, so damn gorgeous.” He breaks the silence after a minute, voice husky and smirk on his face. He did mean the sexual connotations behind his words but he also just really liked the dress, you were a gorgeous girl and seeing you dolled up for him was lovely.

“Aw thanks.” You reply, feeling your face heat up a bit. You still weren’t quite used to his compliments, he shouldn’t be saying you looked gorgeous when he looked like a damn god. He drives in silence for a second, taking occasional glances over at you with that smirk on his face.

“I have a confession to make...” he gives you a devilish grin, a small laugh trying not to escape him, “I get really touchy feely when I’m a bit drunk. But emphasis on the touchy part.” And then he laughs, he really can’t hold it in and neither can you. He has you laughing while simultaneously attempting to not pay attention to the burn between your thighs.

He smiles back at you, he loves your laugh, and then turns the stereo up a bit. He wants to get you back home and fast, this week of waiting for you has just driven him crazy. You’re able to get comfortable and let the music distract your busy mind, your eyes stay peeled to the window so you don’t notice how his hand is flexing against the steering wheel.

He leads you to the kitchen when you get home, the same place this all began. He opens the wine cabinet and starts to look, but you interrupt, “I shouldn’t drink anymore, I don’t want to be hungover at work tomorrow.” He nods and lets out a small sigh, that’s right. You were his daughter’s damn babysitter, not a girl he brought home from the bar. He has to repeat this thought as your cleavage is right in his face. “Yeah, that’s fine...”

Another second of silence fills the room, you know what he’s thinking about but is too shy to say. It’s a bit endearing how he doesn’t want to come across as too forward. “Alex... if you want to fuck me you can just say it. I can see you staring down my tits.”

He’s halfway through a drink of wine when you say this and he ends up coughing it up, he didn’t expect you to say anything. Good, maybe he wasn’t the only one being so sexually desperate here. “Right... well I think I’d like that.” He regrets saying that instantly, it sounds so stupid. He wants to fuck you with ever fiber of his being and he’s saying he “thinks” he’d like that. God he feels like an idiot.

He was still shy, and to be honest so were you. It had been a while and the first times with anyone were always scary. But you still nodded at his words and tilted your head towards his bedroom, if there was anytime nerves would be the lowest it would be now when you were both a bit tipsy.

Alex swallows and takes the lead, grabbing your hand and leading you to his bedroom. You had been there before to grab things for the kid before but this felt different, you weren’t there for your job. You were in his room and you were about to have sex with him.

Before you can finish looking around he grabs you by the waist and captures your lips in a searing kiss, too much pent up desire to wait for any longer. You’re caught off guard but still end up moaning into the kiss, Alex can only think about how he wants to hear more of those moans. Something must’ve taken hold of him because he gets the confidence to push you towards the bed, starting to work at the zipper with his long fingers.

He gets the zipper all the way down and you can barely register it before your dress is on the floor, leaving you in your underwear set. It wasn’t really the nicest but it still had Alex’s breath hitching. “Fucking gorgeous body. You know I’d return the favor from last time but I think if I’m not inside you soon I might perish and die.”Always one for the dramatics.

You give a small giggle at his words, reaching your hand out to gently palm his prominent bulge through his trousers, he hisses at just the littlest bit of contact. There’s a tangle of limbs as you try to get his clothes off and he tries to get your lingerie off, it’s awkward and messy and you almost feel like a high schooler again. Everything about Alex makes you feel like a high schooler again.

After you’re both completely undressed he joins you on the bed, pushing you back and settling on his knees. He starts to gently part your legs to look at your soaked cunt, running his middle and pointer fingers through the folds to collect your wetness. “Your cunt is pretty too, you know that? I think I’ve changed my mind, I need to taste you.”

Before you can even respond (which you probably wouldn’t have been able to respond with words anyways) his lips are attached to your sex. You let out a loud whine and attach your hand into his hair, pushing him deeper. He brings his mouth up slightly higher and his nose budges at your clit, that perfect fucking nose. It’s only been a minute and he already has you shaking and letting out endless streams of whines. He’s reveling in your taste, he thinks he could survive purely on the taste of your juices.

He develops a rhythm of licking at you, sucking at your clit, and peppering kisses along the sensitive folds. It’s intoxicating and you’re sure the words you’re saying don’t make sense, the only ones you can recognize coming out of your mouth are “Alex” and “Fuck.” He’s obsessed with your cunt but at the same time he’s hard in a way that’s making him uncomfortable, so he pulls his lips away much to your whining protest.

“Shh.. shh... sorry sweetheart. I just need to fuck you now,” he says in a voice smoother than butter. As he shifts to having his hips in between your legs your eyes meet the throbbing member in front of you. The head is red and you can see the pulsing. Yeah, it makes sense he needed to fuck you. He takes his time to line his head up with your folds, he needs that first thrust to be perfect as silly as it sounded.

After he decides on his placement he places his hands on your shoulders and starts to push himself in. It’s a stretch for you but in the best way, you hadn’t been filled by a cock in so long and now the most beautiful one was opening you up. Your tight caverns had Alex matching your groans, leaning down so he can kiss you again.

“So. Fucking. Perfect. And all mine.” He says in between kisses, starting to move his hips at a pace that has you both satisfied and begging for more. You’re his, you’re completely his. If there was any question about it before. You didn’t care that he was technically your employer anymore, at this second he was your lover and maybe the best lover you had ever had.

“Yes Alex, I’m yours. All yours,” you moan out, every thrust causing new goosebumps to arise on your arms. “Now fuck me harder, please.” You add on, causing him to laugh.

“Your wish is my command, sweetheart,” he says before picking up the pace. He starts to slam into you at a brutal pace, still littering your neck with kisses. If that wasn’t enough he starts to pinch and roll your nipples in his fingers, all the sensations making your eyes roll back. You knew your orgasm was soon, and Alex knew it too. You both wanted this too much to hold on for much longer.

Your moans start to become one constant stream of noises and his grunts start to become more guttural, the coil in your lower stomach was starting to build up and you just needed to push towards that release a bit more. He took note of this and brought his thumb from your nipple to your clit, circling it quickly like if he didn’t make you cum, he’d be executed. His own release was nearing and he could feel himself start to twitch inside of you.

“Can I cum fuck - inside?” He groans out, always the gentleman. He’s really damn turned on by the idea of cumming inside before but he’s seen what that can do before and doesn’t exactly want to deal with that again. You nod your head, you’re glad he asked but you’ve been on birth control since you were 15 for period cramps.

“On the pill!” You scream out. And it’s so embarrassing but that’s the last thing you’re able to say before the coil inside of you snaps and you’re cumming all over his cock, your walls squeezing him deliciously. He’s decided that making you cum is his new favorite thing in the world, the noises you make and the way your body is reacting drives him to his own release. With a final thrust and groan he’s leaning forward against you and emptying inside of you.

He cums a lot; you knew that from sucking him off, but now it was inside of you. And even when he pulled out, despite missing how he felt, you still felt pretty full. You were full of his remains; he likes that just as much as you. He spends a second to smile at your spent cunt leaking him before he snaps out of it.

"I'll, uh, I’ll get a towel, yeah?” He says, still catching his breath, before walking off to grab what he said. You miss him for the two minutes he’s gone, and when he returns, you feel like he’s just gotten back from war. He gently cleans your sex off and then puts the glass of water aside for you on the nightstand.

Collapsing onto the bed next to you, he pulls you into his side, placing a kiss on your temple. “That was perfect; I hope you let me do it again.” Of course you’d let him do it again; you’d let him fuck you right now if you weren’t kind of tired.

“You can fuck me whenever we both have the time; that’s my promise to you. And maybe we’ll go to that restaurant again? It was good!” He chuckles and nods, playfully ruffling your hair and placing another kiss on your head.

“I’ll take you wherever you want; you're mine now, and I mean it.” He pulls you against your side, and you know the truth to his words—you were entangled with him, whatever the implications were. You were his. And now you were about to sleep in his bed.

He wakes up before you; he knows he has to go pick up the kid from Matt's, and it’d be odd if you went too. He slips on a shirt and jeans for the day, more casual than he was used to, and lets his eyes roam over your sleeping form. Your nakedness was a reminder of everything you did that night, but your eyes closed, and the smile on your face was a reminder of the deeper meaning to it all. He couldn’t wait to explore that more.

He thought about you the entire drive to Matt's—not just how you felt under him but how you made him happy. He could’ve been embarrassed by how whipped he was this quick, but it was a long time coming. His mind drifts back to how pretty you were last New Year's when he had you take Ayla to the “family” party.

When he gets to Matt's, Ayla is beyond excited to see him, running up and pulling his leg into a hug. He hugs her back for a second and then gestures for her to walk to the car; he’s about to follow, but Matt stops him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Is there a reason you were holding hands with your babysitter last night, Alex?”

A/N: kinda hate this but i needed to get it out. title from jane eyre again <3 love dad alex

#andbreakmynose #alex turner #alex turner fanfic #alex turner fic #alex turner smut #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #fanfic #the car! alex #dad! alex

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swarvey · 5 months ago

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screaming over paper rings. stardew and taylor swift?? PEAK ‼️ so, in a similar vein, i have a lil request

could you possibly write a one-shot with any taylor swift song of your choosing? i'd like for it to be x sebastian but i know he's not one of your favorites, so if that's uncomfortable i'd be down with haley. either is fine, i would just love to see what you'd come up with! your writing is wonderful, and i can't wait to see what else you write <3

- 🪩

when you've moved on | sebastian x gn!reader | part one

summary -> you're with alex now, but is he really the one you want? warnings -> none! seb smokes a cig and there's some swearing, that's ab it. just angst. heh. word count -> 1817

a/n: ahhh ty disco anon!! i'm glad you're liking the taylor/stardew crossover as much as i do <3 decided to do my take on the trope where they watch you move on with someone else in town, enjoy!!

part two -> elliott (tolerate it)

the way i loved you ->"but i miss screaming and crying and kissing in the rain."

"seb."

"hm?"

"see that?" you point up to the stars, eyes wide and bright. "that's orion's belt. if you look close enough, you can see his whole body."

raising a brow, sebastian squints up at the sky, noticing the three, shining stars all in a row next to each other.

"huh. guess you're right," he says, smiling lightly at your excitement at the stars.

you'd been ecstatic when he offered to take you stargazing, riding out to the spot where he'd kissed you for the first time. the picnic blanket beneath the two of you is soft, and although the evening spring wind is chilly, seb feels warm enough to fall asleep with your head resting on his shoulder.

"we should do this more often," you sigh happily, grabbing onto his arm and pulling him closer to your side.

he kisses the top of your head gently, closing his eyes. "whatever you want, sweetheart."

"seb?"

"yeah?" he responds, keeping his eyes closed.

"seb!"

"what?"

"sebastian, wake up!"

sebastian wakes with a start at the sound of his mother shouting, groaning as he sits up reluctantly.

scratching his head and yawning, he asks, "what time is it?"

"nearly eight-thirty, seb, you said you'd be up by eight," robin chides. "come on, we're going to be late for the festival."

he scowls. he's tempted to lay back down and cover his head with his blankets again, but he would rather not deal with more of his mom's antics.

"fine. i'll be up in a minute." as she heads back upstairs, sebastian groggily pulls on some warm clothing, trying to ignore the stinging in his heart. why, why was he still dreaming about you? he knows you've moved on, so why has he been cursed to see you every night? sometimes, he wakes up and forgets you're not his anymore, forgets about the fight you two had, forgets the sharp, hurtful words that came out of his mouth he didn't mean at all.

he'll never forget, though, the words you said back to him, an unforgiving amount of hurt and anger in your eyes as rain poured down on the two of you.

"i'm done with this, seb," you'd said, voice shaking and weak from arguing with him. "i've given you enough chances to prove me wrong, to show you actually care about me, but i guess i was wrong. i can't do whatever this is any longer."

then, you'd walked away, leaving him alone in the downpour in front of his house.

how could he have been so stupid? no one in his life has ever known him better than you did, and he still let you slip from his grasp. what an idiot, he thinks, scoffing at himself as he makes his way upstairs and joins his family.

though, as they enter the festival of ice, seb immediately regrets not staying in bed.

you laugh as alex pulls your winter hat over your face, grabbing a handful of snow and throwing it at him in retaliation. haley rolls her eyes as she stands to the side, annoyed as she pulls out her phone and begins absentmindedly scrolling. meanwhile, alex starts to chase you, grabbing you from behind and hugging you tightly before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

seb looks away. he thinks he might gag.

"hey, seb! you made it!" his blond-haired friend runs up to him like an excited kid, snow already scattered in his hair. "geez, did you just wake up or something? you look kinda rough, buddy."

"thanks," he replies flatly.

sam scratches the back of his neck, flashing an apologetic smile. "sorry, didn't mean to tick you off. come on, abby's waiting over there!"

sebastian keeps his gaze on the trees as he follows his friend, trying his best to tune out the sound of your laughter he once craved to hear. how did you end up with a douche like alex, anyway? he never understands why sam speaks so highly of him, and now you go off and date him?

"helloooo," abigail sings, waving a hand in front of his face.

"oh, hey," he greets, blinking out of his thoughts. "sorry, i'm still waking up."

she raises a brow, studying his face. "right. had another nightmare?"

"i guess you could call it that."

abby shakes her head, crossing her arms. "i'm telling you, sebastian, if you would just listen to me and move on, life will start to be much nicer to you."

"i have moved on," he snaps, though quickly sighs when he sees the knowing look she gives sam. "i'm sorry, really, but i'm fine. i promise."

"if you say so," she says, her tone unbelieving. he can't blame her for being worried — abby was the one who was most concerned about him after the two of you broke up, knowing how much he'd cared for you.

or, more accurately, how much he still cares for you.

"how about we go check on vincent?" sam suggests, obviously trying to lighten the mood. "the little guy was super excited for today."

as the three make their way over to find sam's younger brother, seb finds his eyes wandering over to you once again, unable to keep himself from checking on you. to his surprise, your eyes meet his for a split second, only for you to jump slightly and turn back to alex and haley.

did you miss him, too?

after the festival ends, sebastian finds himself lingering around a little longer, telling his friends and family that he'll catch up with them later. he walks over to the river, listening to the comforting sound of running water as he pulls out a cigarette and his lighter.

"i thought you quit?"

he whips his head around at the sound of your voice, nearly dropping the items in his hand into the water.

"i did," he replies after a moment, continuing to light the cigarette. "just felt like i needed one right now."

you wordlessly walk closer and stand beside him. he can feel your eyes burning into his face.

"well, how have you been?" you ask, rubbing your arm. "i heard you . . . haven't been sleeping well."

he huffs. "what, did alex tell you?" i told sam to keep his mouth shut.

"does it matter?" he doesn't have to look at you to know you're frowning. "it's been nearly a year, you can't let this keep dragging you down, seb."

he ignores the painful twinge in his chest at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. seb. sure, almost everyone tends to use that nickname for him, but it just sounds so right coming from you. it used to make his heart warm every time he heard it, no matter the place or time; while doing chores, eating dinner, in bed.

even now, when you aren't his anymore, a part of him is glad to hear you still say it with the same tone.

"as i've been telling everyone else," he says after blowing smoke out from his lips, "i'm fine. there's no need for you to worry about me anymore, anyways — you got mr. pro over there to care for now."

"don't talk about him," you snap, a sudden defensiveness coming over your voice. "you don't get to bring him up."

seb scoffs, finally turning to look at you. god, you look just as breathtaking as he left you, snowflakes glittering on top of your hair and eyelashes. there's a certain glint in your eye he doesn't recognize, though, and he decides to test it.

"why?" he questions carelessly. "are you scared i'll be too honest with you?"

"what? i—"

"well that's too bad, sweetheart," he interrupts, his old nickname for you filled with an unfamiliar venom. "i'll be truthful with you, just like i always have been. i wasn't perfect with you, not at all — i ignored you and hurt you, over and over until you got sick of it and left, so i know i could've treated you better."

he sees your eyes begin to water, and for a moment, guilt overcomes him, but he goes on anyway.

"but there's one other thing i know," he continues, taking a step closer to you. he points behind him in the direction of the town. "you and him? you'll never love each other like we did. sure, we had our fuck-ups and arguments, but i have never loved someone like i did with you, and i know you feel the same."

"you don't know anything," you whisper, though the confidence you had before has vanished.

he huffs a sarcastic laugh. "really? you sure about that? tell me, does he know you always sleep in every saturday, since you're in the mines until late on fridays? or how you always go to the saloon, just to play your favorite song on the jukebox?" he pauses. "i bet he doesn't know anything about the stars, does he? have you even asked him to look at them with you?"

"stop!" you demand, fists clenched tightly as you give him the same look you had when you left him. "this is different, okay? alex and i are taking our time, so neither of us ends up making stupid mistakes like we did."

"as stupid as they were, that's what i liked about us," seb says, his voice a level gentler than it was before. "we weren't perfect, but we didn't pretend to be. it's what made us so real." he shakes his head, lifting his cigarette to his mouth. "but if you want to go live your high school daydream, then by all means, go ahead."

you scowl. "you know, i came here to check in on you, but i see now that you're as helpless as you were when i broke up with you."

he winces slightly at your harsh words, but remains stoic nonetheless. "go ahead and think whatever you want, sweetheart, but i think one of us is clearly more helpless than the other."

"fuck off, seb. get over yourself."

as you start to walk away, he turns to look at you once more, watching as you hesitate.

"i wanted us to work," you say quietly, void of any hostility. "i tried so hard, but you made it impossible."

"would you do it again?"

the question is slipping out of his mouth before he even realizes it, but he can't take it back now. he expects you to turn around, to storm at him and laugh at how he can even think that.

instead, you leave him with no response, hugging yourself with your arms as you head back towards your farm.

interesting. he throws his cigarette down into the dirt beneath him, putting it out with the heel of his shoe. he wonders why you didn't say anything.

that night, for the first time in weeks, sebastian doesn't dream.

#stardew valley x reader #stardew valley #sdv #sdv x farmer #sdv x reader #stardew valley x farmer #sdv sebastian #sdv sebastian x farmer #stardew sebastian #stardew valley sebastian #angst #stardew sebastian x reader #.lin’s asks!#.disco anon!

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f1version · 1 year ago

Note

congratulations on the 1k!! it's well deserved

could i please request alex albon + ❛ i didn’t know where else to go. ❜

❛ who did this to you? ❜

❛ please don’t leave me. ❜

i apparently need some angst!

SAFE & SOUND ★ AA23

pairing: alex albon x driver! fem! reader

summary: you and alex have never had a good relationship as teammates, but for some reason you feel safe in each other’s arms.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, implied and mention of verbal and physical violence (non explicit, not between the pairing, reader explains what happened but nothing detailed), implied toxicity and sexism, anxiety, alex calls reader love.

word count: 1,4k

notes: this ended up being longer than i expected

general masterlist ★ 1k special

Everything hurts.

From the soft leather seats of your car to the speed in which it was being driven. Tears fell down your cheeks while those cruel words rushed through your head all over again. They will never stop, you repeated. But they had to stop, they had to stop because they weren’t true.

You should leave. F1 is not for women. Daddy’s money. Your wins were gifted to you. Cheater.

Every punch, every scream. Everything hurts because the cruelest people are the ones who don't see beyond the differences, the ones who only look for flaws. It seemed like safety was something you couldn’t afford.

It was 3:00 AM when you parked in front of an apartment building in Monte Carlo. You had only been there once 6 months ago, yet you managed to drive there as if it were routine.

You don't even know why you drove there.

Your name was still on the list of people allowed to go up, even when he said he was going to do a new list and you were sure you wouldn’t be allowed anymore. You guessed he forgot, after all, Alex Albon was somewhat forgetful.

Alex.

You are in front of Alex Albon’s door, your teammate’s door. Questions finally start pouring into your head. Why are you here? What makes you think he will let you in? What makes you think he will help you?

You and Alex weren’t the best teammates, and it was mostly your fault. He took you by surprise with his kindness, he was as sweet and funny as it could get. He was sunshine and you were midnight rain; cold, unpredictable, pushing away every intruder who could throw away what you had been building since you were 4 years old.

Still, you were going to knock on his door at 3 in the morning.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

For five minutes and eight seconds, there was no answer, the wait was doom, it was a sign that you should turn around and leave because Alex was asleep. But he had always been full of surprises.

Two confused brown eyes meet yours, saying your name in such a tone. "Are you. What?"

"I didn't know where else to go" you speak quickly, nervous, the bruises hurt more then.

"I, Come in, let's talk inside"

In that moment a sigh of relief leaves your lips. Of course he would let desperate souls in his house at three in the morning.

The fake blond led you into the living room, where, with a soft motion, asked you to take a seat on the black sofa in front of you.

Alex sits next to you, concern in his pretty eyes. You haven't said anything since he opened the door. You always had something to tease him with, but only a small cry came out of you. You didn't even look at him, something was very wrong.

He calls your name, soft and caring. “Can you look at me?” You hear him say as you stare down at your hands. "Love, please tell me what's wrong, you're worrying me.”

Observing was one of Alex’s greatest qualities, that's why he froze. His gaze was stuck on the bruise of your left arm. On the way here, they had taken on a blueish color, they were painful, especially when you remember the reason why they were there to begin with.

“Y/n?” He says cautiously, scared to mess it up. "Who did this to you?"

Alex gets closer and suddenly you've never felt so vulnerable, so alone. Alex didn't want you here, it was almost four in the morning and he was in his pajamas while you were crying on his sofa, smelling of that goddamn drink someone spilled on you.

"Alex, I’m sorry. I, I know you must be tired," you say in a hurry, trying to get up. "I, I should go, everything is fine nothing, nothing happened."

Alex grabs your hand, looking up at you. "Love, please."

Somehow that’s enough to make you stay. His eyes, such pretty brown eyes drown in worry and sadness. You can't stand it. Seeing Alex sad was something only could bear within race weekends, when your focus wasn’t on him. But, yes, he always looked better smiling.

Alex sighs, "stay here, I'm going to go get an ice pack and some water."

You decided to look down, more tears filled your eyes. He was so good. Alex was a real-life angel in your eyes, and you never thanked motorsports for the things it had done for you until now. Knowing him.

When he came back, a glass of water made it’s way into your hands, calming the nausea and the nerves.

“Love, can you turn around a bit? I need to see that bruise,” Alex states, you just comply. You knew that if you thought about it too much you would want to run away without looking back. This isn’t the strong, confident version Alex knows, this is some broken toy who has had enough playing. You didn’t want him to see you like this, you were afraid of breaking something that didn't exist.

But maybe it exists, that something. Maybe it’s just hard to spot what that is. Maybe it was all about the laughs, hugs, and soft touches on the get-togethers of the team and the grid. Maybe it was how he looked at you with those gorgeous brown eyes.

That maybe is what encourages you to open up, he wouldn't judge you. He could never.

"I, I was in a pub, celebrating the points from last week with my sister and,” you inhale sharply, "and at some point, she went dancing with her girlfriend and... some people, fans, they recognized me and they, they."

"They did this."

It wasn’t a question, it was a fact. The lump on your throat only allowed you to nod. Looking at Alex you recognized anger, it was something carnal and dangerous, something you hadn't seen before. It wasn't the adrenaline rushing through his veins after something went down on track. This was twisted, crooked.

"Love," He says, slowly. There's that nickname again. "Do you remember their faces?" He asks a few minutes later, tense. “What they were wearing. Something?"

"Alex,"

"We have to do something," he says, standing up abruptly. "This can't stay like this, you,"

"Alex," you interrupt him, "i know what I have to do, but not now, please. I just want, I want to rest, I want peace, I want… Please, let's not talk about this now and," there’s a confession hanging in the air, "please don't leave me"

Your watery eyes find exasperated ones, calming them within seconds. His newfound softness brought you peace.

"Can I hug you?" The Thai murmurs, eyes never leaving yours.

"Yes, you can."

His arms wrap around your waist gently, doing everything to keep you from moving too much, afraid of hurting you. That made your tears fall inconsolable. You feel Alex's hands caressing your back, they are so gentle.

"Here, put this on the bruise," he says as he pulls away, extending you an ice pack.

"Thank you."

After that, there are twenty minutes of comfortable silence. You notice the music playing in the background, soft and relaxing, lo-fi, most likely.

Alex guides you to the bathroom, letting you shower away the anxiety. He even offers you a t-shirt and pajama bottoms that are just a little too big on you, but nothing wild. He brings snacks for both of you, giving you a sandwich and more water; you make a mental note of inviting him for dinner one day.

"Do you want," Alex says, breaking the silence "I, It doesn't matter."

"Alex," You call, sitting next to him, with your head almost falling on his shoulder. "It’s okay, you can ask."

“It's not what you think, I,” he smiled, “I just want to know if you want to cuddle for a while? Not in my bed, if that’s weird, but I can bring some blankets and pillows, it would be comfortable. I don’t think it would be weird, is it weird to you? We literally live together, you know, Williams. Agh! You know what I mean."

Your body moving closer to his silences his blabbering, your head resting on his chest, legs almost in his lap, a smile in your face. Alex puts an arm around you.

"Yes, that’s okay, really," you muttered. "And sorry."

"Don't apologize for coming, everything is fine I,"

“I mean how I've treated you,” you say and he makes a big ‘O’ with his mouth, then frowns. Is he confused? "I feel like I've been cold."

Alex smiles. "Honestly? I feel like it's just on race weekends, and I know why."

Now you smile. A grateful smile. No one had ever understood or tried to. You feel tears running down once again, this time of overwhelming gratitude. Alex kisses your temple.

“You are okay, love, safe and sound, I promise”

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formulapookie · 3 months ago

Note

rosquez for on a scar pls<3

20. on a scar

Marc is tracing a pattern between all the moles on Vale’s chest, head resting on the older’s arm as he strokes his hair.

This is one of the moments Marc prefers in their newfound routine. The domestic feeling of belonging somewhere that’s not a place per se, but the arms of someone you love so dearly, like Marc loves Vale.

Vale is home to him as much as he is home to Vale.

It’s enough to look one of the two in the eyes while he’s watching the other do anything.

It’s pure love.

Vale watching Marc pace around the house? Love Marc watching Vale cook? Love Vale watching Marc getting ready to go train? Love Marc watching Vale while he explains to him all the different kinds of wines he has in his cellar? Love

Vale is looking at Marc right now, and he wants nothing more than to hug him tight and never let him go again.

He’s divine, perfect body, out of this world face, amazing personality and that god forsaken smile that never fails to brighten up Vale’s days.

Vale’s eyes lock on that scar, one of too many, the one which had Marc almost stop racing, the one he got back in 2020, when he was so high on painkillers and antibiotics he hallucinated Vale being with him, in Cervera, holding him at night when the pain was too much.

Vale hates it.

Not the scar as a thing, but what it means.

They weren’t speaking back then, not even a greeting.

Not even “hello” if they met in the hallways of some hotel they were both in.

And when Marc had gotten injured, and declared he was going to miss the season because he had to get surgery, and because his arm hurt too much and had to undergo rehabilitation Vale hadn't called.

Or texted. Or sent anything to say “I’m sorry you’re going through that, as a rider I know how awful that must be”

Nothing. Complete Radio silence.

The scar reminds him of what he had managed to get of those years, 2020 especially, when he wasn’t there.

Marc didn’t like to talk about it, he hid his scar for the majority of times, either with sleeves or bandages or simply sitting, standing or laying making sure to cover it.

But Alex did.

He told Vale everything, how awful he was for letting his brother suffer alone, calling for him during the night, blindly reaching out to someone who wasn't there, who was probably at some club getting shitfaced with his friends, who was probably making fun of him.

He had told him how Marc, in his less lucid moments, thought Vale was really there, and he would find his brother hugging a pillow, sleeping while hugging it tightly and sometimes telling Alex not to yell because he would’ve woken Vale up.

Vale’s fingers find their place tracing the outline of the scar, slowly, feather-like touches.

Marc tenses up, his hand not moving anymore.

Vale leans down tentatively, slowly, he doesn’t want to do something that will drive Marc away.

But Marc lets him, waits to see what will happen.

He presses a light kiss on the boy’s scar, then locks gazes with him.

There’s tears in Marc’s eyes, while he looks at Vale, because the scar is something they never talk about.

Vale just knows that if Marc is hurting 90% of the time it’s that arm.

“You’re beautiful, every part of you is, even the ones you don’t like, they’re perfect”

Marc can’t keep the tears in anymore, he just breaks down in Vale’s arms, sobbing loudly as Vale hold him tighter than ever before.

It’s not often he sees Marc crying like this: real, deep, hurt.

The last time he had seen him like that was after Sepang, when Vale had doubted Marc ever being a fan of his and had called him other names too.

That night, when Vale was in his hotel room with a bunch of the Yamaha crew and some friends Marc had gone to him, lips red and patchy from Marc obviously biting them till they bled, fingernails bitten and the area surrounding them coloured of a bitter red.

He was standing in front of him, a sad face on, looking up at the man who was supposed to be the love of his life.

“Can we talk Vale please?”

“What do you - CUT IT FOR A MINUTE GUYS MARQUEZ CAME HERE - what do you want?”

Vale remembers his crew getting up from wherever they were sitting and going to the door to see how destroyed that kid looked.

“Can we talk like - without all these people?”

Marc was hurt, Vale could fucking see that, could feel the desperation coming from him.

“Talk or I’m shutting the door Marquez”

“I - why did you say that? About me, my room with your poster - you know they are there. You’ve been to mine you saw them”

Marc had looked for confirmation in Vale’s eyes, but had only found hatred and sick fun.

“If I was ever in your house it was in your wet dreams Marquez, surely I never set foot there”

And he laughed. Alongside with all the others.

Marc had stood there, heart caught in his throat, feeling laughs like daggers in every part of his body.

And he had cried, hot tears streaming down his face as he tried to walk away, shame surrounding him like a cloud.

Marc feels like that right now, ashamed weak, stupid.

Because he hates crying, much more so doing it in front of the man he loves.

And Vale is just holding him, cuddling him and stroking his back lulling him to make him calm down.

“I love you Marc, I love all of you, I always will”

He kisses the scar again, this time it calms the sobs down, Marc hiding his head more in the crook of Vale’s neck, waiting for him to finish.

“I love you too” Vale is happy, happy Marc is as well, because he deserves happiness more than anything right now.

Marc manages to fall asleep in his home, Vale’s arms, and slowly gets Vale back into his comfort zone.

“I am so sorry baby, so so sorry I wasn’t there”

A cut sob comes from Vale.

“But I promise I’m not letting go of you anymore, I want to bring you to the altar”

A third kiss on the scar, softer this time, like a peck, like a butterfly just rested her tired body on Marc’s scar, giving him a little relief.

Semd me a Ship name and a Number and I’ll write a kiss

#alice journal of asks #anon🩷#alice writes #rosquez #ASK GAMe #hope it's good I'm practically sleeping

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cher-rei · 8 months ago

Text

afterglow- pt 6 [ T.A.A ]

pairings: trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

summary: young and aspiring marketing and business major jamie carter (you) is privileged with working alongside the liverpool marketing and public relations team while also getting entangled with their star player and right back, trent alexander arnold.

genre(s): friends to lovers, workplace romance, fluff

[wc: 4.6K] [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11] [part 12]

notes: this chapter is a bit longer but it was so funny to write. and of course, it was sitting in my drafts for like 50 years... enjoy!

if someone were to ask you to pick between your mother and your father you wouldn't be able to answer the question, much like most people in the world. they both offered qualities you needed respectively and you were grateful to have them both in your life. kind of.

seeing as you spent most of your life in london, despite being born in liverpool you grew up with your mother and spent a solid 22 years in her presence with nowhere to go. you loved it in london, it was your home and you couldn't let it go. but what it lacked was your father— your best friend.

you were living with him right now because of the whole "alex has chicken pox" situation but you were welcomed home to a facetime from your nephew so that was fun. it was easier with your father, you didn't have to walk on eggshells around him, you could talk about anything and laugh about everything together and that's what you loved about him— his neverending support.

it started with taking you to football practice without your mother knowing, her thinking that he was accompanying you to weekly ballet. when instead, he'd have your kit in the car ready at all times, and supporting you from the sidelines all the way until high school.

and then when your mum was against your university major in marketing instead of law as you had "agreed" upon, your father took the drive from liverpool to london so that he could have a chat with her. and to your surprise she gave up and let you do as you pleased with much reluctance.

so when they got the divorce when you were 16 and he moved back to liverpool, the decision was seamless but you still stayed with your mother seeing as maya already had a job position on that side. after all, you couldn't leave your mother alone. the woman gave birth to you for crying out loud.

all that just for you to move to liverpool eventually because of a really bad break-up. which brought you to your current point— the one where your father wanted to wring every single man's neck no matter how they looked at you.

you felt like a teenager sneaking out like this but you had no other choice. you were going on a drive to lord knows where with a freaken football player, "the most unloyal men on this planet", as your father liked to say.

but of course, he had to catch you in the act, a look of confusion plastered on his face as he stood in the living room, getting ready for bed. "why are you walking around like you did something wrong?" he gasped at your guilty expression, "are you leaving me already? you're just like your mother."

your anxiety vanished in an instant at his joke, an attempt to get the truth out of you. "it's too late to be making jokes like that."

he crossed his arms over his chest. "and it's too late for you to be walking around the house like you're in the 'quiet place'. seriously jamie, why are you tiptoeing?"

you raised your hands in defence, "I thought you were sleeping. my bad for being considerate."

he let out an unconvinced hum and eyed you up and down. he took in the fact that you were in a pair of sweats and a navy blue zip-up hoodie. "you're not a teenager anymore." he shook his head and let out an amused chuckle.

you watched as he made his way to the kitchen and you couldn't help but follow behind him, "what's that supposed to mean?"

he didn't answer your question for a moment and continued to rummage through the fridge for something, happily taking out a box of doughnuts you two had bought earlier. "it means that you can leave the house when you want to. just tell me first."

it was times like this that you forgot you were an adult. to be fair you never really considered yourself to be one, or to act like one either. "oh." there was a moment of silence that passed but it was interrupted by your phone going off.

the way that you darted to check the message said enough to your father, and he let out another amused chuckle. "go on now. don't keep the boy waiting."

your eyes widened in shock, your mouth dry in disbelief but he waved you off. "leave before I go outside to meet him. or should I just--"

"--stay here! I'll be home soon!"

"so do you always drag girls out of bed to keep you company in your car?"

trent rolled his eyes at your question from the driver's seat but kept his attention on the empty road, only the city lights illumating the dark night. "first of all: I didn't drag you out of bed, you could have said no. and second: no I don't usually do this."

you looked at him with your eyes narrowed, not sure what possessed him to call you at 10 in the evening for a drive. "oh so I get special privileges now? care to explain why?"

"I just wanted to go for a drive that's all," he answered honestly with a shrug of his shoulders but that still wasn't quite the answer you were looking for.

you fought back your amused smile. "you have friends for that trent, I'm sure."

the car stopped at a red light which allowed him to look over at you sitting comfortably in the passenger seat of his car. it wasn't the first time after all— there were many trips to the academy, sometimes having to shoot content with him and even that one morning when he picked you up at your sister's apartment for work.

you'd never forget that day and the innocent look on his face when he called you to say that he was outside just as you were grabbing your car keys. it was strange but you didn't mind it.

he let out a sigh and continued to drive after the light had turned green. "all my friends prefer to spend their evenings with their girlfriends and wives so yeah no thanks. and besides--" he shot you an appointed look, "--are we not friends?"

your mouth dried up. that was a little more than you wanted to get out of him, not sure how to respond. colleagues? definitely. banter buddies? sure. but friends?? you were sure that there was some sort of boundary for that and you were never sure if you two had managed to get there yet.

"you could have asked skylar."

oh shit.

you bit your tongue in immediate regret. it was a genuine accident at how quickly it left from your lips and telling by the flicker in trrent's expression, you had hit a nerve. you were just about to apologise when he interjected.

"skylar," he emphasized her name, his lips curved into a smile as he spoke to you, "wouldn't be caught dead eating takeout in a mcdonald's parking lot at 10 in the evening with me though."

you didn't know what to think of his answer, but instead of overthinking it, you decided to make the most of the moment at least. there was no point in making this awkward and it's not like you didn't enjoy his company. trent was easy to be around. most of the time.

so that's how you found yourself parked at the far end of an empty mcdonald's parking lot with hardly any street lights in sight. you unbuckled your seat belt and reclined the seat further back for some more leg room, trent watching you as you did so.

"oh, you're definitely not new to this."

which was true, you weren't. you've had your fair share of late-night drives to get some fresh air back in london. the only difference was the person you were with, a distant memory that you weren't too fond with but maintained at the back of your mind.

you were sat with a large fries, a chocolate milkshake and a mcflurry. you dubbed it the ultimate late-night combo and trent was eager enough to take your word for it, and to his surprise it did not disappoint despite being so simple.

it didn't take long for the atmosphere to clear and for you to ease into conversation. dabbling a bit in random aspects of your lives, to movies, to football and to just nothing. you loved how easygoing it was, not much thought had to be put into anything you said which left you with room to just relax.

"so your mum's not from liverpool?"

you shook your head and took another sip from your milkshake. "she's from london, my dad's from liverpool. but they lived together here for a bit, and two or three years after I was born we moved back to london."

the explanation made trent tutt in disappointment. "and here I thought you were a purebred brit. your accent's probably fake too."

"the accent is real thank you very much," you defended with a hand to your chest.

he quirked a brow, "let's be honest here. you probably dated colwill. you were probably neighbours or something."

your eyes widened a fraction at his comment in utter shock. "levi?" well wasn't this just lovely, you couldn't help but laugh at the thought. "he's three years younger than I am."

trent scrunched his face at you, not convinced by your answer almost as if he knew something you didn't. "age is just a number or whatever they say. but no," he thought for a moment, "you couldn't have been with him because he would have said something by now."

it was strange to see this considering that trent literally played with levi in the england team, so the dots would've been connected long ago if you were in fact in cahoots with levi. it was quite the compliment, knowing that you were paired up with someone that attractive.

"if I were with levi then I wouldn't be in liverpool right now. I'd be back in london living my best life." your answer seemed to pique trent's interest, questions bubbling at his throat the more he found out about you.

"why is it that you left london?" he leant back into the seat, his full attention now on you in the dimly lit car. "I'm sure it's not just because of work."

oh definitely not. you just happened to get lucky there.

your lips pursed as you thought, not sure just how much he wanted to know or how much you were willing to tell. but it wouldn't hurt right?

"uhm," you cleared your throat, "bad breakup."

trent's intrigue increased at your answer, one that he wasn't expecting to be honest. he was expecting something more along the lines of running away from home because your parents' divorce or to be closer to maya.

"you don't look like the relationship type," he answered truthfully and your eyes widened in slight shock, feelings mixed and a bitter taste in your mouth.

how were you supposed to interpret that? negatively? positively? was he calling you independent?? the internal struggle was mind boggling.

you pushed the comment to the back of your mind and let out a hum. "no yeah, he cheated on me."

"oh fuck."

"with my best friend."

"oh fuck."

a laugh escaped your mouth at his reaction and how it got progressively more concerned with each passing second, and your nonchalance wasn't making him feel any better. he fumbled over his words for a bit, switching between the usual "I'm so sorry" and "you've got to be joking right now".

you assured him that you were fine, a closed lippsed smile drawn across your lips. "but like hey," you raised your hands jokjngly, "his name was michael so..."

trent blew out a breath at that and quirked a brow. "yeah, no you definitely asked for it then."

your rolled your eyes and played along for a moment, "I know right. and it didn't help that she was literally his best friend before we got together."

it was every cliché in the book to trent which only made the situation less serious, and seeing that you weren't showing any sort of discomfort towards it he didn't stop himself from laughing and getting back at you. "you just love making horrible life choices."

you nodded eagerly in agreement, saying that it was actually your forte— a gift that you just happened to be born with. it didn't take long for you to ask trent how he didn't know about the breakup. "I'm not famous but it was all over twitter for quite some time."

you came to learn that he wasn't a social media buff and preferred to keep to himself by just staying at home and enjoying his own company and you respected him for that. for you however, it was slightly different because your entire life was on social media but you didn't regret it.

the people that you met and the content that you had the opportunity to create were more than you could ever ask for. but obviously there were the downs— public breakups, hate comments, death threats. nothing out of the ordinary. quite a bit of your life was on display for the world to see so you understood trent's want to keep his life as private as possible.

you were getting to that point as well. you had a total of two friends— maya and clara. your daily routine consisted of waking up, going to work, pilates, pop into a barnes and noble, settling in at home and going live for a few hours. that was your quiet life and you were thoroughly enjoying it.

and trent did a damn good job at keeping his life private, skylar was an absolute myth to everyone. that and you felt that it was time to shift the attention to him for a bit.

"so what happened between you and name not to be mentioned? seeing as we're getting emotional here."

he wouldn't use the word "emotional" but a heart-to-heart was blatantly taking place, even though it wasn't planned. there was a look on his face that screamed how do I explain this? and it had you chewing on your lip for answers, any sort of answer.

it took trent a moment but he eventually let his guard down. "well rumors say that I cheated on her with some random youtuber's girlfriend— which is insane by the way."

not really.

"we dated for nearly two years, she was nice, came to my matches, said I made her heart do flips or something like that." the way it fell from his lips wasn't the slightest bit tasteful, no good reminisce or fondness in his tone at all.

you continued to listen to trent as he explained his relationship with skylar a bit more, furthering into how they met and whatnot. it wasn't anything crazy, just through a mutual friend and he decided to take her on a few dates just for fun, until they're eventually hit it off.

"I thought it was going well but then she said she needed a break out of nowhere, and I was like excuse me?" he said with just as much enthusiasm as if he were still in the moment, his forehead creased in confusion as he looked at you.

he was hurt and it was subtle but not subtle enough to miss. "and she just left without explaining?"

"no," he sighed. "she said she couldn't handle the restriction and needed some time to live her life but obviously the lads thought otherwise. robbo said it was emotional manipulation but I don't know."

"that girl is insane trent. she uses your bank card more than you do. she flakes out on most of your dates and when you try to speak to her about an issue or how you're feeling she gets emotional and starts playing the victim, while you try and apologise. get her out of your life."

this was at least a ten times worse than your situation and you were sympathising at this point. skylar was in fact a manipulator and trent wholeheartedly did not want to admit that.

"and now what? she just shows up and you're fine?" the question came out a little harsher than you intended so you immediately apologized, not wanting to ruin the moment and make him feel awkward. but it was a genuine question and you were borderline worried for him.

there was a moment of silence that enveloped the two of you, filled with even more uncertainty than before. "I don't know to be honest. she hasn't said anything yet but I haven't really been in the mood to confront her yet— I have bigger things to worry about right now."

okay, that was true. his head had to be in the game, and with his team, not some girl who came to lounge around for whatever reason. but you genuinely felt bad for him, a new light shone over him after this evening— one that revealed a little more vulnerability than he let on and it tugged at your heart strings.

driving home about an hour later with that knowledge sitting at the back of your mind wasn't the easiest and you just knew that it was going to keep you up tonight. plaguing your mind, sounding over your other thoughts that were probably more important, for example— the script that you had to give to one of the p.r members for an episode of Up the Reds!, the schedule for certain uploads and how the accounts had to be managed, as well as certain photoshoots and interviews that needed to be prepared beforehand and the packing you had to finish before--

"hey sweetheart," you cooed into the receiver end of your phone which just happened to catch trent's undivided attention but yours was out the window, as you adorned a soft smile.

"don't 'hey sweetheart' me," the voice of the teenager bit back but you swear you could hear him smiling. "you didn't tell me you were making the trip."

oh, he just had to go and tell the entire world huh?

you huffed out a breath, "in my defence, I only made the decision today." an unconvinced hum rang through your hear and you stifled a laugh. "are you going to be there?"

"no duh."

you rolled your eyes at the attitude he was giving you, which was nothing out of the ordinary. "I'm leaving in two days for the week so--"

"a week??" the shock in his tone was evident and you knew were this was leading. "he convinced you to stay for the week? and you said yes?!"

"I said yes so I could spend more time with you I swear. if you really think about it, I'm doing this for you."

"hm, oh really?" he dragged out and you pursed your lips to stop the laughter from escaping your lips. "I'm holding you to this. bye I'm leaving to try and comprehend the amount of lies that just came from your mouth."

"come on you can't be a--" you interjected but the boy was adamant.

"--bye!!"

you laughed sheepishly. "I love you."

"liar!"

that was nothing short of the usual phone call you seemed to get, a ghost of a smile still on your lips as you put your phone back down into your lap while trent mustered up the courage to say something.

"so." he gained your attention, his gaze immediately averting in front of him to the empty road as he drove a little slower than usual. "you're going somewhere?"

you perked up and nodded. "It's supposed to be to relax but I'm pretty sure I'll be more stressed out on that side of the world. I'll be back by next week though."

he probably should have asked where you were going but before you knew it, you were in front of your dad's house. and as suspected, all the lights were off but you knew he wasn't sleeping. he wouldn't even think about it until he knew that you were at home safely.

it was exactly 1:42 a.m., and only then had it hit you just how long you had stayed out. trent got out of the car and watched as you walked to the front door— the urge to say something tickling at his throat. something other than "goodbye" but it wasn't there yet.

you gave him a small wave and put your hand on the door handle, but before you could turn it, it was pulled open from the inside— your dad stood against the doorframe with a sly grin that you were so close to slapping off his face but he was quick.

he put his hand out and waved at trent, the footballer slightly amused at your reaction and harsh movements to push your dad back inside, a laugh echoing as he waved back politely. "good evening mr carter."

you whipped around and sent a glare trent's way but he was far more than pleased.

"jamie, why didn't you say that your boyfriend was a footballer?"

your heart dropped to your stomach. "dad! i swear I'm going to--"

your father continued on playfully. "and he plays for us? so you do have reasonable taste in men. and here I thought I raised an idiot."

trent was as a loss for words by now, his eyes flickering from you as you tried to loosen yourself from your father's grip on your shoulders. he knew you were blushing, but his was masked well by the lack of lighting.

"anyway, thank you so much for returning my daughter in one piece trent. I hope she didn't bother you too much." he tightened his grip on you and ruffled your hair. "she's rather irritating in my opinion."

"not at all," trent managed through a laugh. "she's great company."

your father didn't agree with his answer at all and he made it blatantly obvious until he finally bid trent goodbye and got back into the house where you basically jumped onto his back, your arm wrapped around his neck in a chokehold.

"why are you like this?? I have to see him at work!"

"that's your fault for dating a colleague!"

"we're not dating!"

"that's exactly what your mother told me about her and shawn. and now look where that led us!"

#footballer imagine #fanfic #footballer x reader #trent alexander arnold fluff #footballer x you #trent alexander arnold x reader #liverpool fc #football imagine #liverpool x reader #trent alexander arnold fanfic #afterglow trent alexander arnold #cherrei rambles #cherrei writes #writers on tumblr

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ki-irke · 2 years ago

Note

Julie and the phantoms

Reader x luke Patterson

Reader is Luke’s girlfriend in the 90’s and was with them when he past away and years later when he’s a ghost he goes to vist her and she can see him

Love

Paring: Luke Patterson x reader

Summary: Luke goes to see his love for the first time after he past away, and it may be the last, but he doesn't expect them to stay together for much longer.

A/N: Ik it's not probably what you had in mind, it was a fun one and too cute to not make!

Words: 613

"I'm going to see y/n," Luke said, looking at Alex.

"You sure? She could have family now, you know?" He asked, raising his eyebrows and carefully watching the brown-haired boy.

"Yeah. I just want to see her when I get the chance."

"Okay," Alex said, nodding his head. But Luke stayed for the next few hours. The thought of you being happy with someone else who wasn't him broke his heart. But he knows that this may be the last time he sees you.

So, while Julie was at school and Alex and Reggie were busy with each other, Luke teleported to where your house used to be.

The house still looked the same. The black fence was overgrown with some kind of ivy, which made it difficult to see the yard. Luke walked forward, putting his feet on the slices of wood that formed the path to the big, white house. He had always thought this place was magical, and seeing it still look the same after all these years made him believe it more. When he was about to walk into the house, the door opened. A tall, dark-haired man with a dog on a leash came out. Lukes' heart stopped for a second. Is this your boyfriend? Or even husband? After the man came a smiling woman. SHe leaned against the doorframe. The man turned around to send her a kiss and walked out of the yard. Before the woman could step back into the house, Luke invited himself inside.

Inside, there were small changes to a more modern one, but it still looked the same. The brown-haired boy eyed the woman carefully, who was now pulling a lighter out of a drawer. She was looking almost like the young you. He gave up looking around the house and simply followed the woman upstairs. The woman was like you. But something about her was different. Maybe it's the age, Luke thought. The women looked at white doors with pastel hearts on them. You didn't remove it after all these years? The woman took a deep breath and went inside.The first thing that caught Luke's attention was the large number of photos, candles, and flowers. What was happening?

"I'm sorry, y/n, that I couldn't save you," the woman said, tears streaming down her face. "All of this is my fault. Mum was right," she added, lighting every candle. Luke didn't know what was happening. You couldn't be dead. I mean, if you would, he could meet you. But who was the woman? Because it surely wasn't your mom. Maybe it's about your daughter?

And then the young girl walked slowly past him.

He didn't see her. But he immediately knew that it was you. You sat beside the woman, putting your head on her shoulder. But the woman continued crying.

"Y/N, if you're listening to me, I'm sorry." you blew out one of the candles near your family photo, which made the woman smile through her tears.

"It's okay, y/s/n. I wanted to protect you," you said, standing up but holding a hand on the woman's head. "She does this every time she's alone," you said softly, turning around to face Luke. It wasn't something funny, but it made him smile.

"Why are you smiling?" you laughed, moving closer to him.

"I thought you were still alive. That you have a new family," he said, but his smile soon dropped. "Did you–?" he asked, but you didn't let him finish.

"God, no. It was an accident, but it's a long story," Luke chuckled, hugging you.

"Well, we have plenty of time, love," he answered, lowering his head to kiss you slowly.

#julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n #julie and the phantoms imagines

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cyanide-capsules · 10 months ago

Text

Random character musings tonight,,

Can be read as romantic or platonic most were not intended as one or the other.

tw // implied s/a with Ghosts

Farah, who trusts Alex enough to put down her strength. Not drop it, or lose it. To simply, put it down for a while, let it, and herself rest. To hang it up with her coat at the door and join him for a warm breakfast.

She's protected herself, relied on nobody but herself for so long. A second pair of hands is unwelcome at first. Slowly, but surely, she learns that it wasn't about her having to stop taking care of herself, but more, allowing someone else to help as well. It didn't have to be one or the other, the two can coexist, just as she and Alex do.

Alex, who suffers through spells of phantom pains so intense they leave him a shell of the soldier he always is. Clutching at what was once there, whimpering and crying like a wounded animal. Unable to move from wherever he had been when it started, if he was lucky, in bed or the couch, where he was alone. Where it didn't matter if he was weak. If he wasn't lucky, a more populated area like the common room or training center, where he would have to ignoring the agony spreading through him with his usual grin, excusing himself as soon as he could under whatever excuse he could muster up.

He isn't used to stopping, or slowing down. He hates not being of use. He bites back another sob as Farah strokes his hair, muttering to him that the pain will pass eventually. That he doesn't need to be of use, that not every day can be spectacular and productive. That sometimes one days achievement can just be making it to the next.

Alejandro, who's haunted by nothing more than the thought of losing Rudy. Ever since saving him from the fire, the realization that the man he's known all these years was not invincible hit him harder than any injury he's ever received. Sure, it was a stupid realization, but he had never in his life come so close to loosing him until then.

He's all over Rudy the moment he's dispatched from medical. Careful hands avoiding every bandage and burn on the other man. Whispering apology after apology for his foolishness, for not going into the house with him, for not realizing until now how much he needed Rudy. The ever brave Colonel Vagas, crumbling under the weight of every bit of grief he's ever experienced at just the thought of burying his second in command.

Ghost, who's terrified beyond his own capacity of physical intimacy, physical touch in general. Every lingering hand brings back unwanted memories of unwanted hands against his skin, every accidental graze against him sends him spiraling. He covers himself head to toe to protect himself, mentally. Turtlenecks, long sleeves, long pants, gloves, even during the dead of summer.

He knows good and well that skin against his own will bring out panic. He'll never forgive himself for the time Soap pat him on the back, the slight brush against his, at the time, exposed neck threw him off his feet, within seconds he had elbowed Soap in the nose before he even realized who he was. He wonders what he did to deserve someone so patient, Soap hadn't ever held the moment against him, even when he had to wear a face cast for weeks.

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soulofapatrick · 1 year ago

Text

Freeze Time - Alex Claremont-Diaz x Male Reader

Summary: Late night noodles leads to blowjobs

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: blowjobs; gay; semi-smut; fluff

Notes: I have no idea how noodles led to a blowjob but enjoy

Y/N’s POV

The White House is a far cry from the familiarity and grandeur of Kensington Palace. As I walk in, I’m immediately struck by its simplicity and functionality. The walls are painted a clean, crisp white, and the countertops gleam under the bright overhead lights. The stainless steel appliances stand in stark contrast to the ornate furnishings I’m accustom to at home. The kitchen is spacious, with enough room for a team of chefs to prepare meals for the First Family and their guests. It’s well-organised space, with pots and pans neatly hung on the walls, and a long island in the centre where ingredients are laid out for easy access. It feels more like a professional culinary workspace than a royal palace kitchen.

I pull out a stool and take a seat at the island, the cool surface beneath my hands a stark reminder that I’m far from the comforts of Kensington. The White House kitchen is an oasis of tranquility compared to the perpetual hustle and bustle of Kensington Palace. Here, in the heart of American power, the quietude is striking. The silence is almost reverent, as if the walls themselves are whispering tales of history and diplomacy.

Gone are the echoes of footfalls and the distant hum of activity that I’ve grown so accustomed to the corridors of Kensington. In this austere American kitchen, the only sounds that break the silence are the gentle clinking of utensils and the soft sizzle of something cooking on the stove. One lonely cook stays behind, making me some noodles with a soft smile on her face as if she loves her job more than anything else. It’s a stark contrast to the constant movement and chatter that fills the air at home.

One lonely cook stays behind, her presence a reassuring island in the sea of quietude. She moves with a graceful efficiency, her every action precise and deliberate. Her eyes meet mine, and there's a warmth in her gaze, as if she finds solace in her solitary late-night task. It's as though she loves her job more than anything else, and in that moment, I can't help but admire her dedication.

With a soft smile, she places a steaming bowl of chicken ramen in front of me. The aroma is intoxicating, the rich scent of broth mingling with the savoury notes of chicken and herbs. The steam curls upwards, wrapping around me like a comforting embrace, dispelling the chill that had settled in my bones.

I thank her, and she nods before retreating, her footsteps fading into the background as she leaves me alone with the bowl of ramen. As I take the first bite, the flavours explode in my mouth, each ingredient perfectly balanced. The noodles are tender but still have a satisfying bite, and the brother is a symphony of umami, with hints of soy sauce and ginger. It’s a taste of comfort, a reminder of being home and having late night meals with Henry and Bea, and I savour it with every spoonful.

Just as I’m lost in the delicious embrace of the ramen, I hear the soft sound of footsteps approaching. I turn to see Alex, my heart quickening at the sight of him. His disheveled hair and causal attire are a stark contrast to the polished image he presents to the world. In this quiet, intimate moment, he’s just Alex.

He smiles as he approaches, his eyes lighting up when he sees the ramen in front of me, ‘Late night noodles, huh?”

As Alex takes a seat beside me, our shoulders brushing against each other, a warm and tingling sensation spreads through me. It’s as if the simple act of siting next to each other has the poser to chase away any lingering shadows of loneliness or uncertainty. In this moment, the world outside the White House kitchen fades into insignificance, and it’s just the two of us. I watch him with a fondness that never seems to wane, even after all this time. His disheveled hair, slightly tousled from the busy day, only adds to his charm. Gone is the meticulously styles appearance he wears for public events, replaced by a more relaxed and authentic version of Alex.

He shoots me a mischievous grin as he reaches for a fork and playfully swipes a mouthful of my ramen. His russet eyes meet mine, and there’s a spark of playful flirtation in them, a reminder of the chemistry that has always crackles between us, “Late night noodles are elite.”

His presence is magnetic, drawing me closer despite the narrow divide between us. I catch a whiff of his familiar scent, a combination of his cologne and the subtle traces of the day’s activities. It’s a scent that’s uniquely his, comforting and inviting.

As our knees touch under the table, he leans in closer, his lips dangerously close to my ear, “You know, Y/N.” He murmurs, his voice a velvety whisper that sends shivers down my spine, hand large hand falling to my thigh and sending a jolt through me, “I’ve always thought you look especially irresistible when you're enjoying a good bowl of ramen.”

As my cheeks burn with the heat of Alex’s bold statement, his large, warm hand finds its way to my thigh, sending an electrifying jolt through my body. The intimacy of the touch sends my heart racing, and I can’t help but respond to the magnetic pull between us. I turn to him, my breath hitching as I lock eyes with him again. The velvety timbre of his voice still lingers in my ears, and the unspoken desire smoulders in the air. There’s a raw and undeniable chemistry that has always existed between us, and in this moment, it’s impossible to resist.

With shared intent, we finish the last bites of the ramen, the flavours a backdrop to the escalating tension between us. As the empty bowl is set aside, Alex’s lips find their way to my neck, leaving soft, tentative kisses in their wake. My skin tingles with each gentle press of his lips, and I can feel his warm breath against my sensitive flesh.

My fingers find their way into his hair, entwining in the soft strands. With a desperate urgently, I yank him closer, my lips seeking his in a kiss that’s fierce and unrelenting. Our mouths crash together, a tumultuous storm of longing and desire. The taste of ramen lingers on our lips as we devour each other, the tension that had simmered between us now ignited into a passionate blaze. His tongue brushes against my bottom lip, seeking entrance, and I part my lips eagerly, granting him access. The sensation of his tongue mingling with mine sends a shiver down my spine, and I respond in kind, our mouths locked in a passionate dance that knows no restraint.

But the, as if overcome by a sudden burst of desire and urgency, Alex pulls away, his eyes dark and smouldering. He murmurs huskily, his voice laced with longing, “We should take this to the bedroom.”

His words send a jolt of anticipation through me, and before I can even respond, he grabs my hand with an eagerness that matches my own. Without hesitation, we sprint down the quiet halls of the White House, our footsteps echoing almost too loud in the stillness of the night. Up the stairs we go, each step bringing us closer and closer to his room. The thrill of our urgency intensifies with each step up the grand staircase, my heart racing in tandem with our hurried ascent. The quiet elegance of the White House feels worlds away as we sprint through its hallowed halls, driven by an irresistible need for each other.

As we reach his bedroom door, Alex doesn’t waste a moment. With a fiery passion that mirrors my own, he shoves me gently against the wall, his lips crashing onto mine in a searing kiss that leaves me breathless and dizzy. It’s a kiss that tastes of desire, need, and the years of longing we’ve shared. Our lips move fervently against each other's, a symphony of heat and hunger, and in this stolen moment, I can't help but marvel at the intensity of our connection

With a deft hand, Alex fumbles for the doorknob, his urgency clear as he pushes it open and ushers me inside the bedroom. The soft lamplight casts a warm glow, revealing a room that is very much Alex. Before I can really take in the room Alex’s lips claim mine and he’s guiding me backwards until my thighs hit his bed, and we tumble down together in a tangle of limbs.

Giggle and gasps escape our lips as we fall onto the soft mattress, the weight of Alex landing on top of me. The bed dips beneath us, and we’re a mess of arms and legs, tangled together in our fervour. The laughter that bubbles up between kisses is infectious, a testament to the joy the fills our hearts in these stolen moments of intimacy. Alex’s hands start their slow descent. With a deliberate slowness that heightens the anticipation, his fingers deftly unbutton my shirt, one button at a time, each revealing a bit more of my skin beneath.

His lips, still flushed with desire and tasting of the sweet promise of our connection, following the path his hands take. They leave a trail of delicate kisses along my chest, the warmth of his mouth igniting a fire within me. It’s as if each kiss is a silent declaration of his love and longing, a testament to the tenderness we share.

With a final, lingering kiss at my navel, Alex’s attention shifts lower. His fingers dance skilfully over the button of my jeans, and he slowly, tantalisingly, eases them open. The fabric gives way, revealing the growing desire that has been building beneath. It draws a gasp from me when he traces a line of hot, moist kisses along the exposed skin of my hips, his breath coming in soft pants against my flesh. I raise my hips slightly to aid n their removal, allowing him to slide them down my legs and cast them aside, leaving me in just my boxers before him.

With a gaze that’s both intense and loving, Alex takes in the sight before him. His russet eyes are almost black as they slide over my body as if I was carved by gods, settling on the bulge in my boxers that is nowhere near going away, especially when he looks at me like that, his hunger palpable. But he doesn’t rush. Instead, he savours the moment, the intimacy.

His lips, warm and moist, continue their journey upward, tracing a path of kisses up my inner thighs. Each touch is a delicate caress, a testament to the desire that courses through our veins. The sensation of his breath against my flesh sends a thrill of excitement through me, and I arch my back, offering myself to him without reservation. That’s all it takes for him to practically rip my boxers down my legs and throwing them aside. I raise myself to my elbows to watch him, watching the way his face as he stares my throbbing erection, pressed against my stomach. Lust glimmers in his eyes, the intensity of his desire reflected in their depth. His love for me is evident in the tenderness of his touch, and there’s an unspoken promise that goes beyond physical.

But I also see something else in his eyes, a hint of fear and nervousness that tugs at my heart. It’s as if he’s baring not just his body but his soul, and the vulnerability of the moment weighs heavily on him. He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his anticipation, eyes flickering up to meet mine.

“You don’t have-“ I can’t even finish the sentence, my breath gets stuck in my throat as he licks a bold stripe up the underside of my dick. His large hands are gripping my hips, rubbing soothing circles into the skin before he kisses the head and I think I die a little. My hands find comfort in his hair, tangling in those dark locks as he goes at his own pace, lips feeling heavenly. He closes his lips around the head, dragging his tongue excessively over the tip, where pre-cum has been dribbling across my lower stomach, drawing an embarrassing sound from my throat. He doesn’t move, just keeps his lips there and I want to push him down but this is… I don’t want to rush Alex.

“A-Alex please,” I’m whining and the fucker pulls his lips away, looking up at me through those pretty eyelashes, lips parted in a teasing grin, “Stop teasing me.” I’m growling out, gripping his hair almost painfully tight and his eyes flutter for a moment as a sound rumbles in his chest. He meets my gaze and lets his mouth drop open, eyes daring me to do my worst and I think I may have just come then and there. I pull him down the same time I raise my hips, head flying back against the pillows when his throat constricts around me and he lets out a choked sound.

That’s all he needs to take control, hands finding my hips and gripping hard enough to promise bruises in the morning as he finds a steady rhythm and I loosen my grip on his hair, letting him set the pace. That pit in my stomach starting to tighten and my hips jerk as much as his hands allow, his tongue doing dirty dirty things, making my thighs tighten around his shoulders.

“A-Alex-“ I tug on his hair in warning and instead of pulling off he loosens his throat and fuck, that’s all it takes. I’m spurting white hot ropes down his throat, his name dying in my throat as my hips jerk and my thighs shake. He stays there, mouth open, lips flush and looking up at me with the most innocent eyes as if he isn’t currently blowing one of the Princes of England.

I finally let his hair go, letting him pull away and expecting him to go spit in the toilet but instead he’s swallowing and licking his lips, a knowing grin on his face.

“We should have done that much sooner.” He’s murmuring, chest heaving a little and all I can do is stare at him, brain fogged with everything Alex. The way he’s leaning over me, fingers brushing over my cheek gently and a look in his eyes that I always want to see. It's not quite love in its full bloom, but it's on its way there, and I want nothing more than to stay in this moment forever.

“Can we just freeze time?” I whispers he words escaping before I can even think, fingers playing with the soft tufts of hair at the base of his scalp.

Alex’s smile in response is like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds. It’s a smile that makes my heart swell with warmth and happiness, a smile that reassures me that we’re exactly where we’re meant to be. And then, without a word, his lips find mine in a kiss that speaks of everything we are and everything we’re becoming, a kiss that leaves me breathless and yearning for more.

Tears spring to my eyes as our lips part, the intensity of the kiss leaving me emotionally overwhelmed. Alex, ever attuned to my feelings, brushes one the tears away with his thumb, his touch gentle and reassuring. His voice is a soft murmur against my ear as he whispers, “Sure, we can freeze time for a while.”

It’s a promise and it soothes the storm of emotions raging within me. With a tenderness that speaks of his devotion to me, he shifts to lays beside me, our bodies pressed close. His forehead meets my cheek, a gesture of affection that feels like a warm embrace and he’s pulling the duvet over us, “We’ll freeze time for as long as you like.”

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

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