#and then he realises he's fucked it up because alex is going to tell him he loves him and he's like nope let me break my heart first

[abiiors]

a midsummer night's dream - matty x reader ˚˖𓍢ִ໋`🔆:✧˚.🍉⋆𖧧🐚

a/n: i will be so honest, there is no plot. the plot is matty and bug being in love for 4.5k words. also alex turner cameo hehehe cw: i'm warning all of you that there's a lot of fade to black smut in this because writing smut is my mortal enemy wc: 4.5k

matty wakes up to a scream on one fine day mid june. 

he scrambles awake, drenched in sweat because it’s already so warm in london, and because the scream is startling. he’s about to run to make sure she’s okay when he hears another one—a squeal this time. a high-pitched, excited sound. 

“bug?” he calls out, his voice scratchy still, “what’s happening?”

footsteps thud on the floor. a moment later the door swings open and she comes into view, laptop balanced precariously in one hand and her eyes as round as saucers. matty sits up on the bed. the covers fall around his waist, exposing his entire torso right down to his happy trail. 

“what—”

“i got it!” she hoists the laptop high up in the air. “that summer gig with arctic monkeys! i got it! i got it, matty, me!” 

matty’s sure his eyes widen an equal amount then, and he jumps off the bed. there he is, standing naked as the day he was born in the middle of their room. the kisses on his chest from the night before have already darkened, leaving a neat little trail from his sternum to just below his belly button. and yet, matty cares about none of it. 

“you got it! fuck, bug—”

“i got it!” she squeals, eyes brimming with tears now that it’s sinking in, and almost chucks the laptop on the bed. none of them care that he’s naked and she’s not. she makes a run at him, jumping into his open arms and wrapping her bare legs around his middle. she even presses a kiss square on his lips, too excited to deepen it. he just twirls them around until they both end up in a heap on the bed. 

“shit!”

“shit!” he laughs. “you’d be in europe all summer, one country after the other. surrounded by hot rockstars—”

“matty!” she chastises even though he can tell she’s busy trying to stifle her shit-eating grin. “i’m going to work. take photos!”

“of hot rockstars,” he bumps his shoulder into hers.

she turns and eyes him properly, from his messy curls to his naked chest and down. he doesn’t shy away from her though, if anything he feels a little smug. 

“i already take photos of hot rockstars,” she giggles, tracing a finger over the tattoo in the centre of his chest. “sexy photos too.”

“oh is that right?” he takes a hold of her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. her day old perfume surrounds him. his too, he realises, is in the mix, clinging to her skin like it’s meant to. “you won’t be here all summer…” he kisses her shoulder and pulls her leg over his waist. 

“i’ll send you postcards,” she giggles, “like we’re in the 90s or something.”

“sexy…postcards?”

she pinches the skin on his stomach lightly making him hiss. “pervert.”

“you’re a photographer, bug,” matty’s mouth moves from her shoulder to her chest, right where the fabric of her cami ends, not exactly where he wants to be. “i’m sure, you can get…creative.”

she quirks an eyebrow. “and what will i get in return, hmm? i’ll be ‘surrounded by hot rockstars’, don’t you forget.���

“oh, all of this isn’t enough?” matty points at his naked body, earning a flirty giggle from her. 

he already feels hot all over again, simmering right beneath his skin, and from the looks of it, she feels it too. gently, she pushes him on his back, climbing on top of him until she’d on his stomach, her ass touching his dick. matty pulls the strings of her shorts and helps her out of them, out of her underwear too. 

“gorgeous,” he murmurs once she chucks her cami somewhere in the corner, entirely naked and on top of him, grinding on his stomach until she’s practically dripping onto him. matty loves it when she uses him like that, when she gets lost chasing her own pleasure and forgets the world around her. 

matty loves looking at her then—now—when her lips are parted and eyes rolled to the back of her head, when her jaw is slack with pleasure and she moves her hips in a hypnotising rhythm. getting herself off on his stomach.

his hand snakes up her naked thigh till he's grabbing her ass. praise after praise tumbles out of his mouth and each one has her moving faster, rocking hips. his head spins from the blood running so fast through his veins. it's electric, to see her like that, to feel her like that. he’s dying to feel her around him too, but right now matty is just content to lie back and watch. 

when she finally finds her release and slumps forward on his chest, breathing hard, matty presses a kiss on her crown. 

“had your fun, didn’t you?”

she hmms, giggling a little. “your turn?”

and of course, he doesn’t need to be asked twice.

the week before she’s set to leave, she makes him sit in front of the dresser, bleach and blue dye held up in her gloved hands. matty’s doing it because she won’t. because she wants to ‘look professional’. and so he agrees to dyeing his hair blue. 

she’s more than happy to do it too, pressing kisses on his bare shoulder and neck every two seconds. matty dips a finger in the dye and flicks her nose, painting it blue. 

“oh i will kill you,” she screeches, giggling away from him when he tries to get more dye on her, on her clothes and skin, and tries to kiss her while he reeks of bleach. 

and even though they're happy, somewhere in the back of his mind he already misses her, even when she’s right here in his arms. 

“i love you…” he murmurs and places a soft kiss on her lips, she indulges for a few seconds before frowning. 

“why did you say it like that?”

“like what?”

“like it’s a sad thing.”

she can be quite perceptive when she wants to be. but matty simply shakes his head and hooks a hand under her knees. she laughs so loud when he throws her over his shoulder that it echoes around the house. matty hopes the house traps it, her laughs and her giggles and moans, he’s going to miss hearing it. 

“matty?” she nips his earlobe. 

“hmm?” 

“i love you too. more than you’ll ever know.” 

he doesn’t bother correcting her, or telling her that he knows. he knows because he feels it in all of her touches and her kisses and her smiles. and he knows because no matter how upset he is about spending two months apart, he knows she’s coming home to him at the end of it.

he only sets her down once they get to the bathroom, kissing her so deeply that her whole body reacts to him. the dye on her nose smears against his cheek, the dye on his hair gets on her hands, but matty cannot stop smiling like a fucking idiot. smiling and touching her and kissing her while they shed their clothes and get under the shower. 

the water turns blue instantly, rivulets running under their feet, and matty gets down on his knees. 

“let me…” he breathes, throwing her leg over his shoulder. his mouth is instantly between her legs, hands grabbing onto her thighs and her ass, while he looks up at her. her head is thrown back in ecstasy, fingers tangled in his freshly dyed hair. 

he keeps going until she cums on his tongue and cums again. he keeps going until his knees hurt and the water runs clear. he keeps going until she can quite literally no longer stand. 

then matty picks her up in his arms, and carries her to bed.

“i’ll be in brussels this time tomorrow,” she murmurs next to him the night before she’s set to leave.

it’s so late at night, she should be asleep. he should be asleep too, but he suspects they’re both up thinking the same thing. trying not to toss and turn and wake the other up… matty laughs at the irony. 

“go to bed, bug,” he whispers. “you’ve got to be up by 7.”

she turns to him, barely visible in the moonlight. and yet matty doesn’t need to see her face to know what she’s thinking and how she’s feeling. he simply needs to listen to her breathing as it turns shallow. 

“i do,” she nods and moves closer to him. matty opens up his arms and lets her find a comfy spot until she’s practically on top of him, until they’re one tangled entity. “i’ll be in brussels and you’ll be here.”

“we’ve been apart before,” he replies lamely. 

“that was different! we were just friends then, and…”

“and?”

she shrugs, pressing a kiss onto his shoulder. “and i’d learned to suppress my feelings for you. it was fine then, i was fine!”

matty presses a kiss into her head. “i wasn’t. i missed you everyday.”

“liar!”

“i’d never lie to you, bug,” he giggles. “and i know it’s different now, but we have options. i can call you everyday, text you 24/7, fuck, i could show up to any country you’re in. it’s only europe, you’re right here!”

she laughs, and matty can hear the wobble in it. a second later, wetness touches his shoulder. “i don’t think the band does ‘bring your boyfriend to work’ days.”

“alex would love to have me around,” he teases. 

that makes her snort properly. “you’re such a fanboy, it’s adorable.”

“rude!” he flicks her forehead. “go to bed now, i don’t want you feeling like a zombie tomorrow.”

she doesn’t respond after that, she just snuggles more into him, drawing circles on his arm until eventually her breathing deepens and her fingers stop moving. matty doesn’t sleep a wink though. he stays awake playing with her hair, fingers trying to memorise its softness, the precise texture of it. it’s only when the sky is on the verge of twilight does he manage to fall asleep. 

it’s a quick, dreamless sleep, over like a flash in the pan, and before he knows it, her alarm goes off and matty groans awake.

she’s waking up too, eyes still closed and face so sleepy and soft that matty wants to tuck her back in bed and not let her go. but no matter how hard he wishes for it, she has to go. it’s a good opportunity for her, it will be so good for her career. 

and yet and yet and yet. 

matty sighs and places a kiss on her head. 

“bug? you up?”

she mumbles sleepily. matty laughs. 

“come on, you won’t be ready in time if you don’t wake up now.”

and that’s how they go back and forth—matty tries to coax her out of bed, she mumbles something and buries her face wherever she can, until finally he manages to shake her hard enough. 

it’s funny to him how she stomps to the bathroom and comes out as a completely new person once she’s had her shower. he’s ready for her though, two steaming mugs of coffee in hand. it’s the last time they will sit across from each other and have coffee for two months. last time before he’s sentenced to seeing her face on a tiny phone screen. 

“you’re not gonna cry are you?” her eyes widen, and matty schools his face back into a smile. “if you cry, i’ll cry and then none of us is going anywhere.”

“i’m not a crybaby, love,” he flicks her nose, kissing it straight after. “i’ll miss you though. more than you’ll ever know.”

there’s not much he can say that won’t make him actually start crying. so he just enjoys the coffee with her and holds her close. he stays there, for as long as she needs until she has to finally get up and get ready to leave.

“matty, look!” she holds up a snail to the phone screen, eyes bright, excited. “i’m having snails.” then she puts on an exaggerated french accent. “escargot!”

matty laughs. “you don’t even like them, bug.”

“i do when they’re given to me in bed by room service.”

he briefly looks away from her face and behind her. there’s not much of a view, just the fancy headboard and a nightstand littered with jewellery and contact lens case and her frayed old headphones. matty smiles at it fondly and looks at the nightstand on her side of their bed—it’s empty, clean. he feels a pang in his chest. 

matty looks back at her just in time to watch her make a face.

“okay maybe i’ll have them later,” she tries not cringe, he just snickers at her. 

a bit later once she’s done eating, she gives him a tour of the room. it’s much of the same really, similar to the rooms she’d stayed in in rome and milan and berlin. he’s no stranger to any of it either, and yet he gives her his full attention, cooing at the view from her window even though they can barely see the eiffel tower. she looks happy about it, and so he is too. 

“how was you day?” she asks once they’ve both settled in bed. 

matty sighs, “much of the same really. worked a bit, then worked out a bit and now i’m talking to you.”

he doesn’t say that he could barely eat because he hates eating alone and misses her so bad. he doesn’t tell her that he forced george to be on call with him while he ate his sad little dinner of day old pizza and some chicken tenders. 

“worked out,” she waggles her eyebrows, “gonna be fit before i come back to you?”

“for you? maybe.”

her breath quivers a little and matty sees the precise second her face shifts from a teasing smirk to something a little more intense. he sits up too, propped against his pillow. and sure it is july, the nights have already grown hotter, but something tells him the heat in the room is not because of that. 

“did i show you photos from the show?” 

“of alex?” matty raises a brow and she rolls her eyes, biting her lip a little. 

“of me, idiot! was dressed like a proper 2013 arctic monkeys fan.”

he can see the image so clearly—her in a black mini-skirt and knee socks—and when she sends him a few photos his guess is confirmed. except there’s also her tight-fitting t-shirt that shows off everything matty wishes he could touch right now. he lets out a shaky breath, swiping through the photos. 

“you like them?” her voice is shier than before, matty smirks.

“you look like a fantasy,” he breathes down the line, already half hard in his pyjama shorts. her breathy, seductive giggle doesn’t help matters. matty can’t help but palm himself lightly at the sound, imagining doing things to her in that tiny little skirt. 

“what are you thinking?,” she speaks into the phone, mischief dancing in her tone.

“what do you want me to think?”

she twirls a little strand of hair around her finger, one long fingernail combing through her soft hair. he’s been dying to touch them again, dying to feel her fingernails scratch on his back while she moans and screams his name over and over again. 

she touches her lips subconsciously, and that’s pretty much the last straw for him. 

“what were you doing?” he asks. and then, pulls down his shorts. 

he’s painfully hard by now, aching and desperate to feel her around him. but she’s a million kilometres away, alone and cold in a foreign bed and not in his arms like she should. so he has no other option but to touch himself like a sixteen year old boy. the thought of her doing just the same drives him insane. 

“nothing. just wondering what you’d do if you would have seen me in that outfit.”

he hears her breath quiver over the last words.

“you want to know?” matty wraps a hand around the base of his cock, letting her uneven breathing wash over him. this is so horny and reckless. he can’t even go a few weeks without her for fuck’s sake…

but he can’t help himself, not when it comes to her. 

“touch yourself like i would,” he says, “and then i’ll tell you everything i want to do to you…”

the phone sex doesn’t stop after that. if anything it opens up so many new avenues for him. almost every night a week, while he’s in the same old bed and she’s in a different bed each time, matty finds himself spilling in his own hand, wishing it was her hand, her face, her stomach. wishing it was her. 

sex aside he misses her so dearly it’s like a hole has been carved in his chest precisely big enough to fit her. 

“alex was so good today!” she squeals down the phone one night while she’s in madrid. 

better than me? he almost says but keeps the words to himself. it’s jealousy rearing its ugly head, nothing more.

“oh yeah?”

she frowns at his disinterested tone. “you alright?”

“i’m just tired, bug.” matty runs a hand over his face, “i just want to sleep.”

“oh.”

her small voice instantly makes him open his eyes. she’s smiling at him, of course she is, but he can tell when her smiles are fake and when they are real. and the one right now is stretched so forcefully over her face that he wonders if it hurts.

“no, no,” he shakes his head, “i can stay up for a bit, it’s no big deal.”

“are you sure?”

he hates that he’s made her feel so unsure. of course he wants to stay awake and talk to her, all night if it weren’t for the fact she has busy days and long hours to work. 

the sun hasn’t even properly set yet and she’s already in bed, looking quite tired if he’s being honest. she looks different than he’d last seen her too, suntanned and freckled—probably after spending fun afternoons at the beach with all these attractive people all around her—

stop it.

“we should go to the beach when you come back.” matty changes the topic abruptly. “just us, a proper beach day. it will be fun i think.”

“yeah?”

she settles deeper under her covers, resting her phone against a pillow so she won’t have to hold it upright. matty does the same, sleeping on his side. if he fools himself enough, it’s like they’re sleeping side by side again. if he fools himself, she’s back in his arms, snuggled up with him no matter how hot it is. 

“you look so sleepy, bug,” he laughs, touching his phone screen like he’s caressing her cheek. “oh wait, a snug bug.”

“poetry,” she snorts, stifling a yawn. “i’m fine matty, i wanna talk to you. tomorrow’s a busy day, dunno if i can even text you all day.”

his mood sours instantly, but he tries not to show it on his face. she is working. this is not some holiday where she can set time aside to call and text him. besides he’s seen some of her photos posted on the band’s social media—her hard work shines through instantly. and ever time he sees them, pride swells in his chest. 

“do you want to hear something george and i came up with the other day?”

she nods, pulling the covers up to her chin. 

matty doesn't waste more time explaining what it is, he just starts humming. it’s at the very beginning stages of its creation—a song inspired by this summer—and yet, the more he hums, the more the melody just comes to him. the lyrics are gibberish, mostly just a lot of oohs and hmms but it’s accomplishing the goal he’s set out with. 

her eyes droop more and more with each passing second, breathing deepening more, until he’s almost at the end of the song and she’s fast asleep.

her mouth is parted like always, hands tucked under her chin and knees pulled up to her chest like she’s preserving warmth even on a summer night. he wonders if she feels cold in hotel rooms, he wonders if she misses him just as much as he misses her, so strong it keeps him up at night sometimes, touching her side of the bed and her pillow. 

he doesn’t hang up though. he stays on call, watching her sleep. he stays on call until she’s completely unmoving and unaware of anything else happening around her. he stays on call until her phone dies eventually and his screen goes black. then he cradles the device to his chest like it’s trapped her essence. and maybe it has. 

when matty falls into a restless sleep that night, he only dreams of her.

the dreams become a permanent fixture. not like he’s complaining, not when he’s sleeping anyway. but then he has to wake up to the bleak reality that she’s not here, day after day, week after week.

they talk on the phone every single day of course, and with each passing day he knows her homecoming gets closer. somehow it’s harder. 

days before she’s supposed to come, matty’s in a mood so foul that he doesn’t even call her. he just makes up some silly excuse and skips out on it. 

her :( text makes him feel worse, but all he does is get in bed at 8 pm when it’s still light outside, and bury himself under blankets no matter how hot it is. 

somewhere hours later, he falls into an uneasy sleep. 

“shh, go back to sleep,” matty feels the bed dip in the wee hours of the morning, her voice a hoarse whisper. it’s a dream, his sleep-addled brain tells him, it’s another dream fueled by loneliness and missing her and being so so cold every night. it’s—

“baby?”

“hmm?”

“you’re not cold, are you?” she slides in behind him, still fully clothed. her soft, worn jeans rub against his thigh, then she drapes a bare arm over him. “you’ve got goosebumps.”

“you’re a dream,” matty mumbles, sleep coating each word. her deep laugh resonates all around him, surrounding him like a warm blanket. 

“am i?” she kisses the shell of his ear. “how do you know?”

sleep threatens to take him under once again in the comfort of her arms. the feel of her hair brushing against is shoulder is familiar, it smells like her—like peaches and lilies. matty smiles to himself, this is by far the most realistic dream his brain has produced all summer. 

“hey,” she kisses his shoulder, sending butterflies fluttering in his stomach. 

“you’re a dream…” matty repeats, “because i’ve had this dream before.”

“oh yeah?” he feels himself being pulled into a chest—so solid and real and warm. her fingers dance on his arms, from his shoulder to his elbow and back up, tickling just a little—not enough to fully wake him up, but definitely enough to hold him there, suspended in a limbo between sleep and consciousness. “what happens in your dream?”

“you come into our bed…”

“like this?” the smile in her voice is prominent. 

“mm-hmm,” matty nods and turns, eyes closed, face burrowed into her chest now. her scent surrounds him stronger than before, with new things added to it—faint smell of coffee and the outdoors in general. he can feel his face squished between her boobs, which isn’t a new detail as far as his dreams go, but his brain has certainly upped the quality of it tonight. 

it’s a dream it’s a dream it’s a dream, matty chants in his head over and over again till the words meld into each other and turn gibberish. 

“and then?” her voice cuts through his spiral. 

“and then you hold me, bug”

“i am holding you…” he feel her nod, and yet her arms tighten, cuddling him closer. the next time she speak, matty feels the vibrations of her voice running through his chest, passing through his heart. 

“and then?”

instead of answering, he focuses on her fingers—up and down, up and down. from his shoulder to his elbow and back up. “sometimes you touch me,” he breathes into the crook of her neck, “other times you hold me until i wake up.” his voice is muffled, barely audible. it’s alright, though. she’s just a dream, a figment of his imagination, a part of him. how could she ever not understand him?

“i touch you?” she laughs, a little giggly, and matty nods. “how do i touch you?”

he takes her hand in his, traces the pads of her fingers, the lines on her palm. then he places her hands on his bare chest—smooth, small fingers touching his ribs, trailing downward toward his stomach and his belly button. matty sighs. “you touch me like that. like you do when you’re really here…”

“matty, i am really here!” she laughs, kissing his head this time. her thumb moves in circles on his collarbone. “open your eyes, ‘m right here.”

“‘s a trick,” he mumbles. a moment later his mouth finds the hollow of her throat. her skin is slightly cold to the touch, halfway to warming up. against his lips he feels the chain she always wears, like she’s come back home and gotten straight into bed. matty scoffs, what a strange thought. 

“you’ll disappear if i open my eyes. and i want you to stay. i miss you…” he says, “i can’t wait two more days till you’re home.”

“you don’t have to,” she giggles—it’s a giddy, breathless sound that makes him smile too. 

“you’re a good dream,” matty holds onto her tight, relishing how solid she feels in his arms. “the best dream i’ve ever had.”

her hands move over his body again until they’re on his face, cradling his cheek. then he feels her tilting his chin up, feels her lips on his—just one tiny, soft kiss. she smiles against his mouth, says something too but the words don’t fully register in his mind. 

“i’ll see you soon,” matty murmurs, properly sleepy now, unable to hold on for much longer. 

“you will,” her voice holds a promise. “go to sleep now, i can’t wait to see you in the morning.”

he chuckles at her words. just before sleep properly drags him under, he places his hand on her cheek, feels the familiar soft skin under his palm and hears her sigh. 

“and you’ll be here in the morning?” he teases, “will you be here as a daydream, bug?”

she threads her fingers through his hair, playing with them till it’s impossible to hold on to consciousness. just as he’s about to slip under, he hears her exhale. “i’ll be here as anything you want me to be,” she murmurs, kissing the crown of his head. 

matty succumbs to sleep.

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[kellykadesperate]

just thinking about how henry was like: "i just can't afford for you to fall in love with me" and how it seems like a throw away comment but henry was being so deadly serious. henry who has been a little in love with alex for years is very much at peace with the fact that he can only belong to alex momentarily. he's spent years loving from a distance and now alex has feelings for him too? it's all this whimsical bonus for him really because he's spent years knowing he will never be with alex properly, that these moments are all they're going to get and all he can ever have with someone he loves. but alex? henry knows how passionate and bold alex can be. henry has to say it because whilst he can afford to break his own heart, he cannot afford to break alex's. he can't do that to him, he can't possibly be the person who hurts alex that way

[disneyprincemuke]

the thanksgiving incident * ls2

it's never fun feeling like an outsider, so you'd sworn that nobody would ever feel the way you did all those years ago

pairings: logan sargeant x platonic fem!driver

notes: my deepest apologies for not posting today, a migraine had me down bad and wishing i was dead but it's okay i'm bad baBY LETS FUCKING GO

| "wanna hang out?" | driver's parade | american burgers | american football | the thanksgiving incident | another williams adoptee | beating the heat | you’re embarrassing me | santa baby | the favourite driver | the situationship |it's nice to have a friend |

come up to my hotel room

you stare at your message in the blue bubble, trying to assess the lack of response from the younger driver. you press your fingertips into your lips and turn around. "do you think he now thinks i'm trying to hit on him?"

george, with a balloon in his mouth, stops blowing into it briefly and stares at you. he pinches the opening of the latex decoration and tilts his head at you. "what did you text him?"

"hopefully not," alex speaks, walking past you from his previous spot at the entryway. in his hands is a medium-sized bowl of mashed potatoes. "that would be weird."

"i just texted him to come up here," you say, catching your bottom lip between your teeth.

"you didn't say anything else?" george asks.

you shake your head.

"that's kinda misleading," alex mutters. "has he read it yet?"

"he left me on read," you mutter, pursing your lips. "seriously, guys! what if he thinks i'm hitting on him?"

alex shakes his head. "everyone on the grid knows you're on and off with shawn. it's impossible that logan thinks you're making a pass on him."

you raise your eyebrows. "did logan tell you that?"

there's a knock on the door, cutting george's wish to reply short. he looks at you before he resumes blowing into the balloon in his hands. you look at alex, who simply shrugs and turns away to untie the plastic on the small table of your hotel room.

you sigh and push yourself off the bed, walking over to the door slowly. "who is it?"

"it's logan!"

you huff and wipe your palms into the material of your sweats. you pull the door open and the greeting at the tip of your tongue immediately disappears when there is a singular sunflower in logan's hand.

"what is that?" you ask with a hand on the door handle.

"it's a," logan clears his throat and follows your gaze at the sunflower in his hand, "a sunflower."

"i know what a sunflower looks like," you answer softly, "but why is it in your hand and why are you holding it up?"

"well, you texted me without context, by the way," logan starts, taking a step away from you to throw himself back into the hallway, "and i didn't know what to make out of it. so i... i don't know. i got you a sunflower."

he extends his hand to offer you the flower once more.

"i told you!" you screech, turning around to call for george and alex. "i fucking told you!"

logan, out in the hallway, grows confused. he tilts his head. "what?"

"i- the text," you cut yourself off as the severity of the situation gets to you. you turn around to face logan. it's only then you realise that he made the effort to look presentable, sporting a nice pair of shorts and a polo tee. "i asked you to come up here because we prepared you a thanksgiving dinner."

you press your lips together, fighting back tears when a blush creeps up logan's cheeks. you watch as realisation slowly hits him and his jaw drops. "oh."

"yeah," you breathe out. you look down at the flower and take it into your hands. "this is very thoughtful. thank you."

"yellow flowers are a sign of friendship."

"are you rejecting me?"

"are you fucking around with me? is this a prank?"

"no, i'm just offended that the first thing you thought of was a subtle way to let me down."

"i didn't know what to say to you. you're very pretty," logan readjusts his shirt and clears his throat, "but like- you know?"

"i guess," you shrug. "would you like to come in?"

"wait, you prepared me a thanksgiving dinner?" logan asks softly, hesitantly following you inside. he slips off his shoes right by the door and lets the door shut. "me?"

"of course! i figured you'd want to celebrate it. it's nothing like home or what your family could give you," you hum, stepping aside as he gawks at the decoration that george poorly put up. "but i thought you might like to at least spend the night with people instead of being all by yourself in your hotel room."

"i- i don't know what to say," he whispers, a smile slowly growing on his face as he looks around. there's a picture of a turkey stuck on the wall, a couple of balloons taped above the tv and an entire meal prepared on the table. "thank you. this is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

"we couldn't find a turkey on such short notice so," alex mutters, patting his rookie on the back. he points at the far corner of the table, where there is a stuffed animal of a turkey resting on a plate. "the genius decided to opt with a toy."

"a toy that he gets to keep!" you shriek, a hand on your chest. you turn to logan. "i'm sorry i texted you to come up without context."

"tell shawn i'm sorry i thought you wanted to hook up with me."

"we're on a break."

logan pulls a chair out from under the table and grabs a plate for himself. "then tell him i'm sorry he's stupid for breaking up with you." he takes another and offers it to you. "dinner?"

[themultifanshipper]

Really, even though you were friends, the last thing Logan should be asking the Williams HR representative about, in her office, is sex.

Warnings: oral, petnames, lots of petnames

So yeah, this was probably breaching several clauses in both your contracts.

But Logan came into your office, looking a bit sheepish, and sat down on the grey sofa in the corner without a word. You just stared at him, waiting for him to say something, but he just avoided your gaze.

"What can I do for you Logan?"

He didn't answer, just squinting at the floor, contemplative.

He came into your office quite often. Probably more than was strictly appropriate but after all, you used to be on the media team and had become friends with most of the drivers during your years at williams. Usually Logan and Alex (and occasionally others who "happened to be passing by") would come in for a chat, generally cheerful or angry or sad, depending on the kind of day they were having.

Today however, Logan was fully silent.

"Logan?"

He squinted again, this time at you, trying to figure out how to say what was on his mind.

"Lo, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong"

He took a deep breath before responding.

"So you know I'm a virgin, right?"

You, in fact, did not know that. You didn't think you were that close a friend, although you didn't exactly mind. It was just a bit sudden.

"What?!"

"Well technically I had sex once but it went really badly. And I haven't had any practice since, because I'm scared of picking up girls because I don't know what I'm doing and I'm an F1 driver so I'm supposed to be having loads of sex but imagine I'm really bad and it got out, it would be super embarrassing and I'd have to ask you, my friend, for an NDA about bad sex, which is just another level of weird and I'd hate for you to stop tal-"

"Logan!"

He stopped ranting and looked at you, obviously feeling rather vulnerable.

"Logan... have you just come into my office to tell me you're inexperienced at sex?"

He pursed his lips and frowned.

"Yes"

"Okay.... why?"

"Because I want you to teach me how to pleasure a woman"

He looked you straight in the eyes, with way too much confidence for someone who was suddenly eligible for a lawsuit.

You raised your eyebrows at him. "Logan, couldn't have waited until... oh I don't know, until we weren't in our workplace to ask me for sex?"

"Um... I guess?" He had the audacity to look embarrassed. "I'm sorry if I read this wrong. Do you uhh- not want to?"

You studied him for a second. What the fuck. It wasn't that the idea was unappealing, he was an attractive young driver with probably incredible stamina. Which is why you found the idea of him being inexperienced so odd. And why was he asking you for... guidance? A lesson? It was weird to think of him as anything other than your friend slash coworker Logan, who you had now known for nearly two years.

If someone had told you this morning that this is how your day was going to go, you would have told them to fuck off and gone back to sleep. You realised you must be taking too long to respond when Logan sighed and rubbed his face.

"Okay nevermind, I'm sorry I brought it up, we can just- pretend this conversation never happened"

He sounded almost sad as he got up to leave but stopped as you blurted out "No, wait!"

He stared at you questioningly.

"I'll do it" You sounded breathless "I'll teach you- how to do uhh... sex. With me."

His eyes lit up as he laughed "I hope you'll be more articulate than that "

"Oh fuck off" you hit his shoulder in retaliation "You're the one who looked like you were going to shit a brick when you walked in here!"

"Hey! That's a low blow" He pouted.

The atmosphere became more comfortable with the bickering but there was still an undercurrent of nervousness. He took a couple of steps towards you and leaned in but you stopped him with a hand on his unsurprisingly firm chest.

"You want to do this now?" You hissed "Are you fucking mental?"

He pouted again "why not, the bosses aren't here today, it's just us, and the engineers are working on the cars" He wiggled his eyebrows.

Well when you put it that way....

Fuck's sake.

You leaned in slowly, as if aiming for his mouth before swerving at the last second and pecked him on the cheek before whispering in his ear. "Lock the door for me will you, darling?"

His eyes darkened "Yes ma'am" and he turned away to lock the door.

You sat down on the sofa and spread your legs, beckoning him over and silently motioning for him to kneel between them. He did so and put his hands on your thighs, then looked up at you expectantly.

Oh, right. You were supposed to be teaching him.

"Okay so first you're gonna want to get me naked"

He giggled at your obvious statement before hooking his fingers into your waistband. "Sure thing, princess" Pulling them down and off, underwear soon following as he let out a breath, eyes and hands roaming over your newly exposed skin. "Shit, you're already so wet." He looked up at you again.

"Can I?" He asked.

So polite.

"Be my guest" you smiled at him as he lowered his body. He kissed the inside of your thighs, slowly inching towards where you needed him most. When he got there, you let out a strained half-sigh half-moan as he licked a stripe from your taint to your clit. The noise made him look up as he licked his lips, eye contact making you shiver. He then spread your thighs further and immediately buried his face between them like man starved, making a valiant effort to find your clit with his tongue.

"A bit lower- lower- a bit right. Wait no, your right"

He followed your instructions dilligently and when he found it, he sucked on your clit with fervour, which made you gasp and let out a shaky moan. "There, right there." as your right hand weaved itself into his hair.

Eyes on yours, he blinked up at you and you nodded to tell him he was doing a good job. Satisfied, he carried on, closing his eyes in concentration.

You grabbed one of his hands and started licking at his fingers, it startled him a bit and he looked back up at you, still surprisingly efficient with his mouth. The sight was absolutely sinful, blonde hair a mess, eyes blown wide, tongue out, working over your flesh. When you sucked one of his fingers into your mouth, straight down to the knuckle, he groaned, the vibrations making your hips twitch. You slid a second finger into your mouth, then a third, ensuring they were nice and wet, then pulled them out. "You can start putting them inside now".

He put the first one in, reaching so much deeper than you could manage on your own, all the while still lapping at your clit. You were so wet it didn't take long for a second one to join as he pushed them in and out gently.

"Okay now sort of hook them upwards" you showed him the movement with your own hand and he nodded, hooking his fingers and it felt so good you moaned quite loudly, hoping none of the engineers would be passing by your part of the building. He put a third finger in and the stretch was delicious as he pressed upwards again and flattened his tongue over your clit.

You could slowly feel an orgasm building and he felt you clench around his fingers, going slightly faster with both his hand and mouth.

"Oh god whatever you do, do not stop!" You panted above him as he used his other hand to hook a leg over his shoulder and he sat up a bit, changing your position slightly and making his fingers hit even deeper inside you.

"Fuck!" You clenched around his fingers as you came hard and he slowed down, helping you ride it out for a while before you had to physically push him off because he wanted to seemingly carry on forever.

"Geez Lo, give a girl a minute, yeah?" You laughed, a bit out of breath. You felt boneless as Logan started kissing his way up your body and finally sealed his mouth over yours. His face was sticky, and your hands went to his hair and pulled on it, making him groan into the kiss. You pulled his head back and he whined, his hips bucking against the sofa, searching for some relief. You lifted an eyebrow at him.

"Please" he panted. You glanced down.

"Need some help down there, soldier?"

He grinned, lopsided. "Sargeant, actually"

Oh yes, you were going to have some fun with this one.

Based on true events that happened to me last week. Only difference is it was in my appartment, and I didn't actually come.

Do I use too much italics? Probably. Do I care? Not one iota.

Hope you enjoyed, stay posted for more filth to come!

[lovings4turn]

જ⁀➴  𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋  . . .  (𝐆. 𝐑.)

— two things are definite: you like george, and george likes you. unfortunately, you two seem to be the only ones who don't see it.

+ part of my 'be my valentine' mixtape series ! love this song and i was so excited to use it for a george fic, so i hope you enjoy <3

“oh mate, you’re joking.”

“shut up!” george huffed, running the palm of his hand down his face in exasperation. “it was not that bad.”

he could defend himself all he liked, because in spite of that, george knew it really was.

this was possibly the third time this month that george had fumbled his chance to ask you out, and alex was beginning to grow tired of his friend’s constant pining and lingering stares. 

“here’s what you’re gonna do,” alex said, his voice growing more serious as he looked george dead in the eyes. “you’re gonna ring y/n, and you’re gonna tell her you forgot something at her place. a shirt, socks, anything.”

"but i haven't?"

"not the point," alex groaned. "you're gonna tell her that, so you have an excuse to turn up there. this is your chance. don't be a stupid. tell her you think she's cool, that you like her, something to charm her."

george still wasn't convinced. his brows were pinched together as he ran over alex's plan in his mind, able to find a thousand different ways it could go wrong for him.

"right. and what happens when she realises that i haven't actually left anything there, and i just look like a massive twat for showing up?"

alex wasn't sure that he could take any more.

"mate, you can't just sit around and wait for some sort of fairy tale ending to come out of nowhere for you. at some point, you're just going to have to confess to her."

though he was being assertive, alex was still trying to be supportive, laying a hand on george's shoulder and delivering a friendly pat of encouragement.

"i can promise you she's probably thinking the exact same thing right now, anyways."

george scoffed, his answer hanging in the air unspoken. as if.

unbeknownst to george, alex was a lot closer to the truth than even he may have realised.

the events of the afternoon were playing on a loop in your mind as you tried to dissect every last piece of your interaction with george, from how he'd greeted you - a brief side hug and a smile - to how he'd said goodbye - a weak effort to get you to stay and a silly, yet endearing, wave.

was this your life now? driving yourself mad over even the smallest little details, all because of some stupid feelings?

when you'd first started developing somewhat of a crush on the mercedes driver, you made a promise to yourself that it would never become a thing. and you had kept that promise for roughly four months, until you made a huge error: revealing your feelings to someone else.

ever since you had let it slip to a friend that you actually quite liked george in ways that far surpassed the platonic label, you'd been - for lack of a better phrase - absolutely fucked.

now you had people to fuel your delusions, try to convince you that george had to feel the same way, and no, of course he wasn't just being polite when he offered you his jacket, you fool. outside interference and reassurance should have made you more confident in your feelings, maybe even push you to confess, but instead they'd had the opposite effect.

the weight of the word 'hopeless' in hopeless romantic had really started to resonate with you. though you weren't allowed to dwell on your misfortunes for too long.

some may have chalked it up to fate, some may have attributed it to a divine power wanting to laugh at a poor mortal, but whatever the reason, your phone rang with an incoming call from george.

the stupid candid photo you’d taken as a contact picture flashed up on your screen, and the automatic smile that painted your lips made you want to yell in frustration.

"y/n, hi!"

pathetic was the perfect word to describe you, thanks to how utterly gone you were for george, as the mere sound of your name leaving his lips was enough to make your heart jump.

"sorry, know i only saw you a few hours ago, but i just remembered that i think i left one of my mercedes shirts at yours when i was there the other day."

you didn't even think twice about it, why would you? george had left countless items at your place in the past, and he would leave more in the future.

"no problem. y'can always come by and get it, i'll try and grab it for you."

george's chest ached at how ready to help you were.

"yeah? you're a lifesaver, y/n, really. i'll set off now, should be there in about fifteen minutes."

brief 'see you later's were exchanged, and the moment you set your phone down onto the coffee table, your hunt began.

you didn't recall seeing one of george's shirts anywhere around, but previous mishaps had enlightened you to the fact that things could turn up anywhere. you'd thought that the shoes buried right underneath your bed were odd, until a sock turned up in your bread bin a few weeks later.

nothing was off limits anymore.

yet, somehow, no matter where you looked, you couldn't find the fucking shirt. frustration slowly nibbled at your mind, the sound of a knock being the only thing to break you from your frantic search.

an annoyingly attractive george russell greeted you when you swung open the front door.

in all of the years he'd known you, george thought this was the most adorable you'd looked.

your hair was in disarray, the strands unkempt as though you'd been running your hands through it over and over again. your face shone a little, and you were clearly a little out of breath, if the small, panting gasps you took were anything to go by.

your apartment was a mess, and george quickly realised that you'd turned your entire place practically upside down to try and find a shirt that wasn't even there in the first place.

guilt began to bubble up in his throat, and george hoped that, after today, it would all be worth it. he only had one chance, and he wasn't going to fuck it up.

before he could allow doubt to creep into his mind and sow seeds of regret, george lifted a hand to cup your jaw. the feeling of your soft skin against his palm elicited a gasp to slip from his mouth. the parting of his lips provided you with the perfect opportunity to meld your lips together in a chaste, sweet kiss.

feelings went unspoken, for now. time would grant you the chance to properly word every last affection you harboured for one another at a later date.

besides, george was a firm believer that actions spoke louder than words, and this kiss was living proof.

george forced himself to pull back, his forehead resting against your own, and he believed that to die like this would be a blessed fate. because you were definitely going to kill him when you found out the truth.

"i lied, by the way. there was no shirt," he mumbled, blue eyes meeting yours with a wince.

"you fucking dick."

[neoarchipelago]

And they were Roommates (part 6)

A/n: ok here's a little warning. First from now on i'll take a bit longer to publish because ... work. It's also slightly shorter than usual

second i've realised that i had completely forgotten that Keller is the last name of the character Alex. So i do want to underline that it is not in fact alex Keller.

third, thank you so much for the love you have given to this story, it warms my heart. I hadn't written in a long time and i was afraid to post anything. I'm really happy that you guys like it.

Fourth, thank you so much for the little ideas you send me, they're very helpful. I apologise if I fon't translate the full idea into the story but i try to add any little thing you send my way.

fifth, you are entirely allowed to fucking hate me.

Warnings: as usual, cursing, violence, mentions of death.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"(Y/N)". 

You smirked.

"Yes?" You questioned, glancing back as you sat at the counter in the kitchen. 

"What time is it?" He asked from the couch. 

"It's 7pm" you answered. 

You smiled down at your computer. (Y/N). You had heard him say your name more than a couple dozen times today. Since you both told each other your real names, he had seemed to chant it non-stop. At any little question or situation. 

"Y/N." 

You rolled your eyes. 

"Yes Simon?" You chanted sweetly. 

A few seconds ticked before he answered. 

"I have to tell you something." He answered, tone serious. 

You paused your current activity to turn in your seat towards him. He was looking back at you. 

"I have a Mission scheduled." He warned. 

"Oh. Alright." You answered cautiously. 

"I won't be here for a while." He announced. 

"For… a while?" You frowned. "How long?" 

"Around 2 months." 

You swallowed, looking away. You didn't exactly know how to react. Obviously he had missions. You found yourself in a mix of sadness, worry and frustration. 

"Y/N." 

You looked up at him. By the look in his eyes, you felt like he was going to ask if you were ok. And you didn't want to answer that. 

"Why do you keep calling my name?" You asked. 

He remained silent. You stood up walking to the couch letting yourself fall next to him. He closed the file on his lap, red letters stamped on it. 

"Simon ?" You pushed. 

"I don't." He defended. 

"Simon." You scolded kindly. 

He groaned, looking away. 

"How will you know if I'm addressing myself to you?" He debated. 

"We literally are the only two people here." You chuckled. He ignored it. 

You sighed, shrugging. You turned to the TV letting yourself enjoy the time you could spend with him. The tv played with whatever show was on as you started to think about something to order for dinner, too tired to cook. 

"I like it." 

You blinked. 

"Hm?" You questioned, turning to him. 

He raised his hand, turning your head so you looked at the tv instead. 

"I said. I like your name." 

"Oh. Really? It's nothing extraordinary though." You said blushing a bit. 

"I was curious. After a few weeks. About your name." 

You tried turning your head to him but he repeated his move, groaning annoyingly.

"It's… delicate…" he praised. 

You felt your heart rate quicken. He.. liked your name. 

"So… you like how it sounds?" You asked. 

"Pretty much." He said matter of factly. 

"Alright." You nodded. 

"I like… that it's your name."

You turned your attention back to the TV, your mind unable to process anything after what he had just told you. 

"I.." you started after a long minute. 

"I like when you say it…" you said in a low voice. 

The rest of the evening was spent very calmly. As per contrast to the rest of the week. 

You sighed, grabbing your things to head out. Simon had been spending more and more time at the base. He had been preparing with the squad, preparing gear, tactics and training harder.

You could feel it. He had progressively grown colder. The ghost taking its rightful place, ready to hunt its target. You could feel him being careful around you, his mood had a drastic change and it seemed he tried to keep you away. 

You tried to give him the space he needed. But you grew more and more worried and sad as the days passed. 

You walked out of the door, walking down the apartment complex. 

You stopped and cursed as soon as you walked outside. 

"Hey Sparrow! Ready?" 

"Soap. What are you doing here?" You asked, obviously already aware of the answer. 

"Price asked me to come pick you up on the way to the base." The sergeant answered with a smile. 

You rolled your eyes. Walking to him he opened the passenger seat for you. You thanked him, sitting and buckling your seatbelt. You watched the man skip to his side and get in. As you started driving to the base you asked. 

"How is he this morning?" You asked. 

"Well. Murderous." He smirked. "He's been training with some recruits coming along on the mission this morning and I think he's making them regret ever enlisting." He laughed. 

You sighed. His mood had been becoming more and more sour. Not necessarily because he didn't want this mission, but mostly because he was entirely focusing on his target. The thought made a shiver down your spine. 

"I don't think I'll be of help this time." You said. 

Price had been asking you to come by the training sessions or after meetings to try and soothe his moods, but the closer the day of departure arrived the harder it became. 

"Ah, don't worry. We're used to it. He's not entirely bad. As soon as he'll be in the field, he'll be the LT we're used to." He said. "We, the squad. I don't think you've seen him like that. But not sure… he wants you to." He said with a smile your way. 

You bit your lip. Did you want to see him like that? A part of you did want. Another felt anxious at the thought. 

The rest of the ride was spent in small talk. The closer you got to the base the more you could feel your body fall into a stressful state. 

When soap parked in front of the training grounds, you walked out before entering the warehouse, the first thing you heard was the sound of people talking. The place had been rearranged as a training ground. Various dummies, people sparing at each other on mattresses. 

Soap dragged you towards the rest of the squad a bit further from the rest. 

"Here's our little bird." Price smiled. 

You sighed but threw him a weak smile. You turned your head to the closest training mat. A breath caught in your throat. He saw fighting. With a man that surprisingly was a bit taller than him, also wearing a mask, though much looser. You watched the punches and kicks being thrown. They weren't holding back. Suddenly Ghost body slammed his opponent to the ground, the sound echoing. You flinched. That must have hurt. 

"Don't worry, sparrow. They're used to it." Price tried to reassure you. 

"Sure… if you say so. He seems to be fully into it." You commented. 

"He is." 

"I don't understand captain. Soap said it's usual for him to behave like this before a mission. Why do you want me to show up everyday?" You asked, turning to him. 

He put a hand on your shoulder, walking you a few steps away from the rest of the squad. 

"This time is a bit different. He seems. Frustrated." 

"I don't think my presence helps." 

"It does a bit. Though I know it's getting harder for you to deal with his mood. Today especially. The departures date was moved. We leave in 48h." He said with a sorry look. 

You took a moment to process the information.

"It's not hard to deal with it. I'm just sensing it's being more and more useless. He's getting frustrated at me." You answered honestly. 

"I don't want you two to fight. You don't have to go see him." 

"I'll try. One last time." You replied with a soft smile. 

He nodded. You turned back to Ghost. The fight was over, his opponent walked away, slightly limping and rubbing the back of his neck. You walked towards him. 

"You ok?" You asked lowly. 

"Ah, ja, I'm ok!" He answered the taint of accent on his words. 

You smiled, continuing your path towards the man readjusting his gloves. 

"Hey." 

He stiffened, looking back at you. 

"Why are you here?" 

Ouch. You smirked at him. 

"Price asked me to come check something for your mission." You lied. 

He nodded. His chest heaved, his breath had quickened from the physical exercise though he didn't seem out of breath.

"Will you be home for dinner?" You asked. 

"I don't know." He answered in a cold tone. 

You could hear, Price started to walk up to you too very slowly. 

"I can keep a plate for you if-" 

"Sparrow. I'M BUSY." He barked, the sound echoing. A dreadful silence stood in the whole place. Everyone had stopped talking.

You flinched. Not enough for the others to see but he had noticed. The sound of small talk started again, probably under Price's glare.

"I'm sorry Ghost." You tried. Standing your ground hands behind your back. 

"Lieutenant." He corrected coldly. 

Price had finally reached the both of you. 

"Fine." You spat back, the staring match now showing off both of your frustrations. 

"Do you need anymore help captain?" You asked, not dropping your gaze from Ghost. 

"No sparrow. Thank you and I apologize for-" 

"It's fine. If lieutenant Riley wants to be a dickhead that's on him." You said, visibly angry and visibly taunting the man. 

You turned around walking to the rest of the squad. 

"You good?" Gaz asked.

"I'm perfect. I'll see you guys another time." You said with a smile towards them before exiting the perimeter. You took a deep breath outside. Fuck. What was wrong with him? The behavior had changed so drastically. A week ago, he was chanting your name in every sentence. Now he refused to even say it. He was cold. It was hard to hide the fact it was hurting. You were trying to see his point of view too, but you missed his old self. 

You closed your eyes for a second. You had work to get to. So you did. 

You had stalled. A lot. It was very late. You didn't need to be at the base. You could have spent the day working from home. Fuck you had finished all your work. Yet it was 9pm. And you were only turning the key in the lock to the apartment now. 

You didn't want to fight again. You didn't want to fight before he left. You dropped your things on the ground and fell face first on the couch. The house was silent. Dark. It felt odd. You turned, grabbing a pillow and hugging it. You closed your eyes. Several minutes passed by before you heard his door open. You sat up as he walked into the living room. 

You shared a look. He seemed annoyed. His new signature mood.

"What?" You spat. 

"Don't." He warned. 

"Don't what?" You replied in the same tone. 

"Don't be a brat." He said. 

You laughed coldly. 

"I'm not the one being a brat Simon." 

"Lieutenant." He corrected it once more. 

You rolled your eyes. 

"Why did you pass by the training grounds again?" He asked. 

"Because Price asked me to." You answered honestly. 

You stood up walking to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He stopped you halfway, grasping your arm. It wasn't soft but he was still careful not to hurt you. 

"Sparrow. Don't come insult me in front of my men." He said in a serious tone. 

"I didn't. I came to ask you something. You fucking yelled at me." You answered. 

"I have other things to do other than giving you attention." He scolded. 

"I didn't ask for attention." You replied, taking your arm back and crossing them over your chest. Fury growing in you.

"Y/N."

"Oh, we're back on a name to name basis?" You asked sarcastically. 

He frowned. You were pushing his buttons. Unfortunately for both of you, he was too. 

"Sparrow. You and I are not-" 

"What? We're not friends?" You asked, interrupting him. 

He stood there, silent. 

"Is that what you're going to say?" You started now letting your anger finally out. 

"Are you going to push me away again? And then leave without saying a word?" You continued your tone slowly rising. 

"Are we going to fight until you leave and then you'll come back as if nothing happened? Fuck Simon! It looks like you're doing this on purpose!!" You ended. 

And suddenly it hit you. Like a shit ton of bricks.

"You are…" you said in a whisper. 

He turned away. 

"You are! You're doing it on purpose. You're making us hate each other before you leave on missions." You said, incredulous. 

"Y/N stop." He warned in a tone that promised repercussions. 

"Why? Why are you doing this?" You asked, stepping closer. 

He seemed to think for a minute. 

"I'm a soldier. I go out there. I kill and I very possibly… get killed." He explained. 

You frowned in confusion. He groaned in annoyance. 

"I might not come back." He said abruptly. 

"I know that. So what? You think making me hate you is what…? Going to make it… feel ok?" You asked. 

He looked straight at you. 

"My death isn't something that deserves mourning." 

You blinked. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Anger spoke volumes. Actually it moved fast too. You didn't exactly know how you grabbed the pillow from the couch and started hitting him with it. 

"SIMON, FUCKING RILEY, DON'T YOU EVER SAY THAT AGAIN." You punctuated every word with a hit. 

He groaned. You were really hitting his last nerves. 

"I care! I fucking care! It's not up to you to decide if I should or not!" You said, this time tears prickling at your eyes. 

He noticed. You hit him harder trying to hide it from him. He grabbed the pillow, snatching it from your grip and throwing it somewhere in the room. He grabbed your wrists making you back up against the wall. 

"Calm down." He tried, his voice slightly calmer. 

"No! Fuck Simon!" You scolded. 

You stared at each other. 

"Lieutenant Simon ghost Riley, you better come back to me." You whispered. 

He didn't say anything. He leant forward, letting the top of his skull mask rest on your forehead and hissed a fuck. Your breaths mixing together. 

"If we hate each other. We have nothing to lose in this situation. We shouldn't have…been friends in the first place." He explained in a whisper.

"Do you hate me?" You asked in a whisper too.

His grip on your wrists tightened. He didn't answer. 

"If I don't come back. You're going to have to deal with it." He answered coldly. 

He let go of your arms, stepping back as you looked at him, eyes wide in shock. He simply turned around. And walked out of the apartment.

You bit your lip closing your eyes. God. He was stubborn. You were hurt once more. Even if you knew he didn't mean it. In his stupid attempt to spare you from being hurt, he ironically hurt you. 

You took a deep breath. You wanted to sleep, forget this whole discussion. You wanted to roll into your blankets. So you did, and you let sleep take you. 

That morning, you had gotten up with very little motivation. You had realized quite quickly he had not slept home. You tried to go about your day but your mind kept running back to him. Was he really going to leave with saying goodbye? 

The hours ticked and the more the realization settled in. He wasn't coming back. You decided to go to the base in the afternoon to drop a report. You had met with the squad, avoiding talking about their lieutenant. You told them goodbye, threatening to go find them if they don't come back. They had announced they were leaving late in the night, the departure being changed again. 

You were going to miss them. You had started to get used to their presence. To enjoy their company. They had grown on you. 

You walked home pretty late. Feeling devastated by your roommate's behavior. You wanted to see him. Talk to him. Hug him before he left. But it wouldn't happen. The thought making you want to cry. 

You walked into your apartment. The silence felt horrible. You dropped your coat over the couch, slowly walking to his bedroom. A shy knock on his door was heard. It was the only thing heard. Nothing. Your hand reached for the doorknob slowly. Turning it, you opened his door. Empty. He wasn't there. 

You turned around, feeling the need to go back to your bed. You froze. Your door was open. You frowned, slowly walking into your room. You noticed a bag on your bed. You approached, sitting next to it. You opened it, taking out the soft object inside. 

You stared at it. Tears rushing down your cheeks. It was a squish-able round plush. Of the grim reaper. It was black, with a cute skull for a face. You hugged it. 

Knock knock knock. 

You looked up. Holding the plush, you stood, walking to the door. You opened it. 

"Hi! I'm… Sergeant Hansen… I'm your new neighbor… are you ok?" 

You stared at the man in front of you.

He wasn't going to say goodbye.

----

tags:

@lemontails @cabreezer0117 @tomhardy411 @brxghtixghtz @shuttlelauncher81 @pinkdazelight @sirenbunnylol @snortangeldust @novausstuff @gasstationfifacard @emotion-not-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @simpforavillain @minimisthios @catied32 @poohkie90 @watermaylon-writes @thereealink @meimhem @sorryi-mtrash @gaymistakeboii @bittersw33t-lotus @gh0stm3g @freckledmuffin @itsasecrets-things @xback1021 @connierk690 @feedthefandoms995 @friendlyneighboorhoodgothicpagan @dead-noodles @friendly-reject @critter-mylo @honeymariee @badame0224 @kitty-satan1 @all-good-things-have-an-ending @tianotfound @thriving-n-jiving @hailstrum18 @kiruoris @thats-s0-ravenn @orcasarebigbabies @makastaco @abajointrossyearl @kaylynninice24 @cated18 @swg141 @ghost-2513 @whore4dilfs @yggrid @jaehyacinths @juneitoo @popevickysmainbitch @topgirl17 @mildlyhopeless @feyredarling92 @thegirlintheshadows101-blog  @badbittywitty @yourmom3-5 @tapioca-marzipan @xoprincesslea @here4thespice @goldyghoul @wolfyland07 @chingaderastillidie @d4z01 @stokcholm @khjssss @julesclues @hopefuloperaangelnerd

[misskattylashes]

Okay, I’m going to do it. I have been holding back and just telling my closest fandom friends my crazy theory, but what the hell. Most of you think I’m batshit anyway.

Here we go.....

What if we have been on the receiving end of a long played out psyop and Louise has been a way to make the public want Milex?

Okay, hear me out...

It’s 2017/8 Alex has abandoned Miles after EYCTE. He has gone to France to write and record TBHC, having realised their little TLSP bubble could never last (see Star Treatment). Without Alex, Miles is a little lost and lonely in LA. His reputation is also at rock bottom after the journalist incident. Miles decides he wants to move back to England, and Alex decides he wants to move back to, as we know they can never be more than a few minutes away from each other

Taylor either wouldn’t or couldn’t leave LA, so she and Alex break up. But they need a new girlfriend to keep up the straight image (especially with the new badly-received album and a world tour about to begin). On the original version of OPP as seen on the AM in Mexico video, over the turtle segment Alex sings ‘One More Year I’ll Call It Quits’ maybe the plan was to give it all up,but he had signed a contract to do another album and tour after TBHC, and with Miles’ reputation so bad, if they were together then they would both be cancelled.

So a European girlfriend is found and this is where the subterfuge begins. We start with old Instagram posts with tags like #alexturnerwillyoumarryme, then we get professionally shot videos of her backstage at AM’s concert (all the time Alex is ‘still with’ Taylor) so as soon as they launch, the first image of Louise the public get is a negative one, as a fangirl who has set out to get Alex, not caring if he cheats in his current girlfriend.

Before I list the reasons why I think she is fake, can I say this idea he has stayed with her as punishment for cheating on Taylor is absolutely ridiculous. Men who are serial cheats aren’t known for wearing hairshirts. Especially when you’re a handsome, wealthy rock star who could easily get another girlfriend.

So, the idea is, Louise is the most unpleasant person who makes Alex miserable, and if most people are honest, they want Alex to be happy..

So, let’s look at the evidence..(where there is a * it means there is a Miles counterside)

Louise doesn’t work. She claims to be a feminist, but her job seems to be being Alex’s girlfriend.

She openly copies selfies posed by previous girlfriends, making her look like she has no personality of her own

She boasts in her IG posts ie the ‘we just fucked’ pic and the panties on the piano.

She claims to be a musician but we rarely see her writing or recording anythjng.*

She writes embarrassing things about itAlex on social media (beautiful dick).*

Openly takes a neutral stance on Palestine.

Claims to wear vintage clothes but they rarely are*

When Alex was ill after the third London show, it is publicised that he leaves the Emirates with his parents, no sign of Louise. She’s too busy taking pics in the hotel with Matt and Amanda

Meanwhile Miles has worked hard on his public image. He has shown he is a hard worker. He rarely mentions Alex on social media and when asked about him in interviews, whilst admitting they are good friends, is insistent they are not working together. Which is good because he has always been accused of riding on Alex’s fame.

He frequently gives updates when he his writing and recording, treating us to little snippets, something Louise never does.

Is it a coincidence that holiday gate is the same as the week One Man Band’s release. Alex looking miserable with Louise Vs Miles being charming and hard working.

Not long after Louise starts going on about her fake vintage, Miles posts a whole real of him going proper vintage shopping so he looks authentic.

Even in Dublin there is no duet with Alex. Miles not using Alex’s,fame,but also those who monitor social media can see how hungry they are for Milex interaction.

The river Mersey comment – another way of guaging public opinion. Finally the legion of doom 😍😍 comment on the NY recent. The fandom went crazy at Milex acknowledgement.

Alex....

His face..Alex is a pro. He has had twenty years of faking smiles after arguments with the other Monkeys, girlfriends, even Miles. He could fake a smile with Louise if we wanted to when they call their friends at Backgrid to take pap pictures. But instead he chooses to look like someone either on the verge of tears or else being held hostage. And in the latest set of pics, Louise looks the same.

The Taylor tattoo....it looks like he thinks so little of her he has kept that tattoo.

‘I don’t wanna be hers, I wanna be yours’ quite often at gigs where Louise is in attendance.

Not one song on the car written about her.

And now of course with the tour over, a lot of people return to watching TLSP videos. Happy, muscly, healthy looking Alex having fun with Miles as opposed to skinny, miserable Alex trapped with Louise.

Apart from Louise’s most ardent fans, most people want to see him away from her and would be overjoyed at a TLSP reunion, and for us Milexers, a declaration of their love.

So, has this been a long game? A way of making the people think they want Milex? I told you it was crazy, but just remember the world of public relations is completely underhand and insane.

[raceweek]

Drop the podcast bestie! (Please)

it’s the high performance podcast (you have to download their app to get it for free right now but it will be available for free soon on regular platforms) - in case anyone doesn’t want to download the app but wants to know some of the things alex talked about:

- for context he recorded the first part of the podcast initially and talked a lot about his struggles at red bull and what he went through as a teenager and then went back to the podcast hosts and said actually can we do a part two bc i want to talk about how im coping better now

- he says he isolated himself from all of his friends when everything was happening with his mum and he became an introverted person and still carries that introvertedness with him now from going through that time

- alex was told he was promoted to red bull when he went to see helmut in austria to talk about the practicalities of his move to monaco and just as the meeting ended helmut said oh by the way ur in the red bull seat, here’s the number for ur engineer maybe speak to him but also actually u can’t bc the factory is closed for summer but yeah ur going to be announced in about two hours. bye

- he says he didn’t enjoy being a driver in 2020 at all. literally said he was destroyed. he spoke about the pressure and how he deleted his social media due to the incessant mocking but he also felt like even though he had done that he couldn’t avoid it because although he didn’t see it directly he’d just be asked about it on media day every week anyway

- he was asked about what help was offered to him in 2020 when he was struggling and whilst he said the team cared there wasn’t really anything or anyone to help him. alex and his trainer patrick got their own psychologist towards the end of 2020 and then in 2021 when alex was out of the sport he assembled a team of his own who weren’t the most experienced but who he knew cared for him and would fight to the death for him (said he took jacques from red bull to be his manager because he always fought his corner no matter how tough the situation was)

- he was told about being dropped by horner in a meeting at the end of the season but he already knew because it had been posted in the media before they’d even met

- he described 2021 as a really weird time as he needed to boost his stock with red bull and all the other teams but to do that he needed to give as much as he possibly could to improve the car he had just been kicked out of, so when max said at pre season testing that the car was so much more stable it was a strange feeling knowing that that’s what he needed and he wasn’t able to do anything with it

- he compiled a sexy spreadsheet for team principals in the paddock showing that as much as he struggled in 2020 he was on reflection closer to max pace wise than maxs’ current teammate and maxs’ teammate before alex

- when asked to describe where he is now he said he’s happier than he’s ever been. he’s driving better than ever and is mentally in the best headspace he’s ever been in

- he says he comes up with scenarios in his head from the last 4/5 years and as soon as he has a sort of deja vu struggle moment he uses it to show himself he’s overcome that hurdle

- he said the older he gets the more he doesn’t feel the need to write things down the way he used to because he feels more confident in himself

- the best piece of advice he’s ever received is from franz tost who said “alex if there’s one thing you need to learn about formula one it’s don’t give a fuck” and he said he didn’t really understand it until he started struggling and then he realised that he cared too much

- when asked about what advice he would give to teenage alex now he said it’s hard because he isn’t the most confident now and he knows teenage alex wouldn’t listen bc his parents would always try and fill him with confidence so he said he’d try and shake younger him and tell him that it’s true what they’re telling you

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hi! I was just reading through all your HCs (love them all btw) and just read the bachelorettes react to your kids being turned into pigeons. I'm so curious to hear how you think the bachelors would react. Have a great weekend!

Oh, that headcanon again... 🥲 (Yay, pain and suffering!). Thanks so much for the question, dear anon, hope you enjoy some angst 💕 Have a great weekend too!

_________________________________________

SDV bachelors react to Farmer who turned their children into pigeons:

⚠️ Warning: angst, mention of blood, mention of violence, loss of children.

Sam:

Whether or not to count it as a blessing, Sam's mind just didn't accept the Farmer's words when he first heard the news from them. Like, total denial. Hey honey, is that some kind of new slang? Hehehe, he seems to be a little behind the trends since he spent so much time taking care of their cute kids! But that's okay, because when they all go to visit his parents together, Farmer will explain the meaning of the slang to them, right?

"....Babe, what do you mean 'we won't waste any more time on children? W- where are the little ones...?"

Alex:

Alex had always thought he saw the personification of evil in the eyes of his alcoholic father, who had made his and his mother's life nightmarish and miserable. But after being struck by the words Farmer said and looking at their emotionless face, he realises that he has only now seen true evil. It would take inhuman stamina for Alex not to run around and smack Farmer in the face.

"Stay away from me, you monster..."

Sebastian:

Sebastian held his obsidian dagger in his trembling hand and pointed it in the direction of the Farmer - the person at whom the point of the dagger was not to be aimed! - lest they should come any nearer to him. He could understand everything. Fuck, he could even somehow understand the choice to relinquish parental rights and give them to an orphanage! But to use black magic to get rid of a child who was guilty of nothing more than coming into the world...?

He couldn't protect their baby. And now, how much chance did he have then, even with a dagger?

Elliott:

"You couldn't do that... Tell me... Tell me you didn't do it! That it was just a bad evil joke! TELL ME!"

As Elliott shouted at Farmer, his back touched the nearest wall and he slid down slowly, shocked, unable to stand up any longer. Their child, their precious treasure.... They had waited so long together for a new family member, and now the little one is cursed forever, hovering somewhere in the clouds, betrayed by their own parent. The thought makes the writer want to vomit. And to die.

Harvey:

Harvey's throat felt as if it were clamped with tongs. He could not say a word, could not breathe; it was inconceivable to the doctor's mind that the Farmers had remained so calm and serene after literally murdering their children... Why? Why had they done this to innocent children? Why did they do this to him?! Harvey's instincts screamed at him to run, but instead he fainted, seeing only darkness before him.

Harvey doesn't want to fight them. He'll let them finish him off too, because he can't live with that thought.....

Shane:

Farmer had expected Shane's reaction to be bad, but even they didn't know he would literally go wild. Although, why should they be surprised? Shane had finally acquired happiness, a spouse and a family he'd never even dared to dream of. He was happy, and he was doing everything he could to make Farmer and their children happy. His whole world had been shattered. And now Shane, furious and grief-stricken, is smashing bottles to use the shards as a weapon against Farmer.

There's gonna be blood on the floor tonight.

[percervall]

Mamma mia, here I go again {pt1}

Summary: A summer of poor decisions leads you to having to face the consequences of your actions —and the men involved. Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: talk of pregnancy, brief mentions of a one night stand, mentions of cheating, mentions of abortion Word count: 1.2k Taglist: @averagef1fansblog @barcelonaloverf1life @bradfordbantams @dannyramirezwife @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @jaypreshpresh @laura-naruto-fan1998 @lazybot @norrisleclercf1 @opheliaas-stuff @roseseraj

Part 1 of the Mamma Mia series

“Still not feeling well?” George asks you when he spots you dropping slices of ginger into your mug. You shake your head, trying to breathe through the waves of nausea. 

“Had too much to drink again?” he jokes.

“No, God I wish it was just a hangover… Just- Just the consequences of my own actions,” you tip-toe around the subject as you pour the hot water into your mug. You feel George’s eyes on you, can almost hear the gears turning as he tries to figure out what you mean.

“So not a bug or food poisoning, not hungover… Are you-..”

“Yes,” you cut him off, not wanting anyone to hear, “Yes, I am and- and it is what it is.” You feel your shoulders tense up and you will yourself to relax.

“Does Kevin know?”

You shake your head, shame settling heavy in your chest at the mention of your on-and-off-again boyfriend, “No, and I don’t see why he should because I am not keeping it.” Before George can say anything else you leave the coffee station in the motorhome to find solace in your office, praying to whoever will listen that this doesn’t get out. 

Your hope is short lived when there’s a knock on your door.

“Come in,” you call out, eyes glued to the screens in front of you.

“Hey,” a voice calls from the doorway and you freeze when you realise who it is.

“H-hey,” you reply, trying your hardest not to turn around.

“Can you please look at me?” You bite your lip and swivel round, pushing your computer glasses up into your hair. Looking up your eyes meet his’. 

“Hey,” Lewis says again, a warmth to his eyes you’re having trouble placing. 

“Hi,” you manage to utter, voice timid. You know you would’ve eventually have to see him again, working for the same team kind of made it impossible not to, even though both of you had decided to never speak of that night again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lewis asks, breaking through the fog of thoughts and memories.

“Tell you what?” You can feel your brows pull together in confusion. 

“That you’re pregnant.” 

The moment those words leave his mouth, you feel as if someone has pulled the rug from under you.

“Who told you?” you manage to utter as panic rises in your throat.

“George. I overheard him telling Lando and Alex before the press conference.”

“Oh no,” you groan, burying your head in your hands. You can only imagine the gifs and memes that are floating around on social media right now. 

“I take it he wasn’t making it up? Come on, talk to me, My,” he says gently, crouching down in front of you. The nickname helps you feel a little more at ease, it having followed you for most of your career ever since you told one of the reporters off for making a sexist comment when you were at RedBull, Mika Häkkinen overhearing you.

“Yes, I am pregnant,” you whisper, “and the reason I didn’t tell you is because-.. I don’t-.. Lewis, I fucked up so bad. I don’t know who the father is.” 

The two of you look at one another and you know he is thinking the same as you –the night neither of you regret but promised to never speak about. 

“So there’s a chance I’m-..” 

You nod, biting your cheek to stop the tears from falling. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m not keeping it, I can’t Lewis.” 

“Wait, hold on. Does Kev know?”

You shake your head. Confusion is written all over his face.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t look him in the eye and tell him I cheated. Twice. In the span of 48 hours.”

“Oh Jesus. Damn girl,” Lewis mutters. 

“But it’s fine,” you tell him in an attempt to convince yourself and ignore the feeling of shame weighing on you like a ton of bricks, “I have an appointment booked for Tuesday. I’ll be fine.” You wipe your tears away and plaster on a fake smile as you put your glasses back on. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do,” you say, effectively shutting down the rest of this conversation. Just four more days, you tell yourself, you’ve got this, just four more days.

Trying your hardest to keep your head down –and avoid the men that participated in your predicament–, you make your way through the paddock, scrolling through the data on your iPad. 

“Skat?” someone calls out to you from your left. There’s only one person you know who would call you that and right now he is the last person you want to see.

“Oh, hi Kev,” you offer meekly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Kevin asks you as he comes to stand in front of you. An unnerving sense of deja vu climbs its way up your spine.

“Didn’t tell you what?” you ask in return. Instead of answering you, Kevin holds up his phone, showing you the still paired Google calendar. 

Tuesday 5 September  9:30 BPAS

“Kev-..” 

“No, tell me why you didn’t tell me and I had to find out through Google. An abortion provider, really?” 

“Lower your voice will you?” you hiss, his tone rubbing you the wrong way. 

“Since when do I not have a right to know you’re pregnant with my child?” Kevin ignores your request and barges on, demanding an answer. 

“Everything alright here?” The Australian accent makes you want to cry. Of course it’s just your luck that he is also here.

“Doesn’t concern you, Webber,” Kevin tells the older man before turning back to you, “Why did you keep this from me?” 

“Kevin please-..” 

“No! Why didn’t you tell me that you’re pregnant?” 

You know you have two options here: you can either come up with some bullshit excuse or you tell him the truth, and neither of them seem particularly appealing right now. 

“Because-..” you start, swallowing thickly, “Because I don’t know if you’re the father.” You feel both sets of eyes on you as you fight back the tears.

“Sweetheart, what do you mean?” Mark asks you quietly, a hand on your arm. 

“You know damn well what I mean. And I am not your sweetheart.” 

You have to give Kevin credit, it only takes him two seconds to put one and one together before he’s swinging for the former F1 driver. Mark takes a step back, shielding you behind him at the same time.

“Okay,” you hear Nico say and when you peek around Mark’s broad back, you see the German driver holding Kevin back. You have no idea where he came from, but for once you’re grateful to see him. “Kev, we fock smash doors, not people.” 

“Suck my balls,” Kevin seethes, struggling to break free. 

“Kevin, unless you want to explain all of this to both Steiner and Netflix, please listen to Nico,” you say. Kevin freezes, seemingly becoming aware of his surroundings, and lowers his arm. 

“We will talk tonight, okay? Pretty sure you have a meeting to get to and I need to see if Toto hasn’t fired me yet. Tonight,” you add when Kevin opens his mouth to reply, “Same goes for you Mark. I’ll text you.” And with that you leave them behind, head down as you walk back to the Mercedes motorhome.

And the plot thickens! Told you it was an unhinged idea 🙈

Feel free to let me know what you think! Your comments, tags and likes mean the world to me

[firefly-in-darkness]

Make It Right

Pairing → Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary → Bucky Barnes broke your heart, can he fix it? Can he make it right?

Word Count → 1.6k words

Warnings → angst, heartbreak, swearing.

Beta → none.

Prompts/Bingo Cards

AFG Square Fill → “I don’t want you to be with anyone else.” - @anyfandomgoesbingo

AF Angst Square Fill → smudged makeup - @anyfandomangstbingo

Writer's Note → well, this is a little angsty one that's been sat in my drafts for a while… hope you enjoy! ✨

“I hate you,” you slurred down the phone, “I wish I'd never met you!”

Bucky’s heart broke at your words but he couldn't do anything about them, he hated himself for the pain he was causing you. He realised long ago that you weren't just friends with benefits. A few weeks into the arrangement, all of the rules went straight out the window.

What was wrong with spending time together, going to the college football games, studying in the library until darkness had fallen or hiding out at house parties when it was too rowdy for either of you to handle?

How could he not let you stay over when you looked like an Angel sleeping in his arms? The post-sex glow, the warmth of your body and the so-familiar scent of peach and vanilla filled his head with fantasies of the casual relationship being so much more.

It was perfect, you were perfect.

Until your ex-boyfriend started making threats.

The corridor was empty and it was just typical that your snivelling ex-boyfriend, Brock Rumlow, decided to make an appearance. Bucky didn’t engage with him, just brushed straight past him. In an instant he was pinned against the wall, winded by the blow.

Brock’s grip on Bucky’s collar tightened, yanking him forward and back against the wall. He growled and snarled at Bucky to retaliate but he just smirked at him.

“Oh, you think this is funny do you?” Brock spit out, “Well, you won’t find it funny when I tell the Dean that you were the one that caused that fight with Alex."

Bucky paled at the thought of being used as a scapegoat, he’d already had a few run-ins with Alex Pierce for making derogatory comments about you. If the Dean heard of this, Bucky was certain he’d lose his scholarship.

“Oh and if you go near my girl again, I’ll make sure that she gets caught up in all that mess too,” Brock shoved him again, “I’m sure she’d love to know how much of a violent person you really are.”

Brock walked backwards, laughing as Bucky dropped to the floor.

The words of your ex-boyfriend had taken over his mind and fuelled Bucky’s actions. It was all to protect you, he couldn't care less what happened to him. He wasn’t going to let you suffer because things went too far.

It pained him to see Rumlow’s arm draped around your shoulders at the last Panthers game. His eyes stung as he watched you kiss in the depths of the library. It broke his heart when you tugged Rumlow into a bedroom at Grant’s frat party, the seductive smirk on your lips.

“Saw you with Yelena. I came by your dorm today,” Your voice cracked over the line, “she's pretty, smart and witty.”

Bucky's mind raced, you had come to visit him? What has Yelena got to do with this conversation? You answered for him.

“Just wanted to give you back your leather jacket.” You hiccuped then your tone changed, “She's more your type, better than me.”

“I'm not-” Bucky tried to interrupt you to no avail.

“I thought you loved me.”

He heard the signature sound of the call ending. Without a moment spared, Bucky shoved on his combat boots and grabbed the leather jacket that Steve had found on their doorstep earlier.

It smelt of you, it was intoxicating. It encouraged Bucky to do what he needed to do. To tell you everything. He couldn't let you think he didn't care, that he didn't love you. Fuck Rumlow.

Bucky raced to your dorm. He should have come to you first, told you what happened and come up with a plan to stop Rumlow’s threats from coming true. Now you were drunk and vulnerable. He stopped in his tracks, he didn't know where you were. Scrolling through his contacts, he called Wanda, fully expecting an earful from your best friend.

“Barnes?”

“Wan, where’s Angel? She called and sounds wasted.”

“Why should I tell you?” Wanda snapped.

“Please? I need to tell her the truth.”

“Oh shit.” The sound of the phone being dropped echoed in Bucky’s ears, the panic rushed through his veins.

Your voice, the person he was looking for could be heard at a distance, “tell him to ‘fuck off.’”

“I wanna go to bed now.” You whined, Bucky could imagine the pout and blurry eyes you were giving your friend.

He started to walk to your dorm in the hopes that you or Wanda would give away your location if you weren't at home.

“It's okay,” Wanda's soothing voice was louder, no doubt comforting you.

“Need blanky please.”

“I'll get it in a minute, let's get you cleaned up first.”

The mention of your childhood blanket kicked Bucky into gear. You were at home. He ran. his legs moved as fast as they could to get to the shared apartment.

He was a panting mess by the time he reached the building. No clue what he was going to say. The stairs were neverending, the physical pain pressuring his body to stop. It was nothing compared to the thought of losing you forever.

Bucky pounded on the door, attempting to catch his breath at the same time. His fist didn’t stop hitting until he almost fell through when it was opened by Wanda.

She shook her head, “this is not a good idea, she’s a mess.”

“I’ve got to make this right. I fucked up,” Bucky pleaded with her.

Wanda opened the door wider for Bucky to enter and he sighed in relief.

You were sat on the couch with the blanket wrapped tightly around you, but even with the comforter, he could see your frame had shrunken in on itself. Your head was resting on a cushion, eyes closed as the sobs wreaked havoc.

Bucky’s heart broke at the sight and rushed to your side, wiping your hair away from your face.

You pushed at him, “Go away, Wanda.”

“It’s me, it’s Bucky.”

Your eyes burst open and he felt your shoulders go rigid. The crying had been silenced but tears still streaked down your face along with the mascara and eyeliner you must have been wearing earlier.

“Why are you here?” Your voice cracked.

“I’m so sorry,” Bucky cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears, “I should have told you about Brock, and what happened with Alex. I couldn’t let you get hurt.”

Your eyebrows knitted together, “What are you talking about?”

“Brock said he’d get us both kicked out of college, you know it would only take one conversation with his stepdad.”

You listened intently with tears in your eyes.

“I got into a fight with Alex, over something stupid.”

Wanda interrupted, “It wasn’t stupid, he called your girl a slut. He deserved it and more.”

You winced, “You did that, for me?”

“Yes, and I’d do it again,” Bucky reassured her.

You couldn’t stop the hiccups but tried to speak, “Brock’s -hic- gone. He was transferred. Something about his dad -hic- getting a better job at a better school.”

Wanda passed you a glass of water, “I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

You lifted your legs to sit up straight. Bucky took the seat beside, afraid of what would come next. A scholarship-sized weight had been lifted but he still felt the pressure of you wanting to be with Brock, that you might not choose him after everything.

“I ended it. That’s why I came to see you, not just about the jacket,” You dipped your head.

Bucky’s index finger lifted your chin to look into your eyes and show you that he meant his words with all his heart and soul, “I want to be with you.”

“But what about Yelena?” Your gaze didn’t waiver, giving Bucky hope.

“We’re working on a project together, I am not interested in her like that.”

“I don’t want you to be with anyone else,” You whispered as if uncertain that you wanted him to hear.

“I was an idiot, I thought I could do this whole fuck buddies thing with you,” he shook his head, “I was wrong, I want to be your boyfriend, I want to show you how much you mean to me and tell anyone that will listen.”

“Are you sure?” You looked down, your hands anxiously twisted together.

Bucky took your hands in his. He was a fool, a fool in love with an amazing woman who thought he didn’t care.

“I love you, with all my heart.”

“I love you too.” You whispered.

Bucky felt like the pieces of a puzzle were falling into place. He should have known all along that this was where he was meant to be; with you.

“Can I kiss you now?” He asked, wanting to show you how much he loved and cared for you.

Bucky leant forward, giving you the power to make the decision. It might hurt his ego for a moment if you chose to pull away but he wouldn’t hold it against you. As he waited, he vowed to do whatever you wanted, whether that was to be your partner or friend. If you asked him to leave, and even though it would be hard, then he’d go.

“Well, are you going to kiss me or just stare at my lips?" You quipped, snapping Bucky out of his thoughts.

Bucky pressed his lips to yours, sealing his promise to be with you ‘til the end of the line.

~ Tag List ~

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[joekeeryswife]

I saw you did an Alex fic and omg I loved it but do you think you could do like an angsty fic where idk like Alex and the reader get into an argument and then the reader goes to miles to comfort but then Alex finds out and gets more mad?? Idk thats js an idea but angst pleaseee🙏🙏

Fight - a.t

a/n: hey loves, thank you for the love on my last imagine! i rushed this and didnt know how to write it. i will do a part two if you guys want! sort of hate this icl so i might re-write it 🫶🏼

also please send me alex requests! i also now do instagram aus 🫶🏼

“why do you always have to do this Alex? i’m just trying to keep this relationship going and all you’re doing is ignoring me. all the time. i feel like i’m talking to a brick wall” you shout at him. for weeks he had been avoiding you, coming home late and leaving super early in the morning. whenever you did see each other all you did was fight and you hated that.

“i don’t know y/n maybe because you’re so insufferable that i don’t want to be here?” he shouted back, he could feel his body getting hot. he was mad but he didn’t mean what he said. he had been so caught up with writing and singing that he had hardly spent time at home with you and it was getting to both of you. “what? that’s just fucking rude Alex. i have no idea what is going on with you but you’re not the alex i fell in love with. you’ve changed and i barely see you now”

you didn’t mean for this fight to start. he had come home somewhat early and you’d asked him to sit and watch a film with you but he’d rolled his eyes saying he didn’t want to spend time with you and that’s how you got here. “y/n i don’t want to spend time with you okay? just leave me alone” you felt your eyes fill with tears, nodding your head you made your way to the front door.

you slipped on your shoes and grabbed your keys “where are you going now?” you scoffed at him. “didn’t you just tell me to leave you alone? so i’m leaving you alone.” you quickly slipped out of the door and slammed it shut behind you making him flinch as the house shook. he sighed, walking to the sofa and sat down groaning at himself for what he’d done. “fucking idiot mate” he rubbed his forehead in annoyance, he had royally fucked up.

Alex sat on the sofa for forty minutes until he realised he needed to go and look for you. he’d messages all your friends and you weren’t at any of theirs and he was starting to get worried. even though he was frustrated, stressed and annoyed he was still worried about you. he stood up and decided he would go to Miles’ house to try and get him to help look for you.

-♡-

you had somehow ended up at Miles’ house. he had been alex’s best friend for years and you two had become close when you and Alex started dating. you just needed someone to talk to who understood Alex and what he was going through and your friends wouldn’t understand.

you were both sat on the sofa opposite each other, you were sobbing and Miles felt awful. “i just- i don’t know what’s happened to him. we used to be so in love and he has changed so much” you sniffled. you wanted your relationship with Alex to work out, you’d been together for four years, engaged for a year and planning a wedding yet he was distant.

“he spoke to me the other day, told me that you hadn’t been getting along and that he was really stressed with writing. apparently the label are being arseholes and are stressing him out, keeping him at work till late and he hates being away from you. i think he’s just very stressed and it’s not right him taking it out on you but i don’t think he means it” Miles tried to comfort you, you had no idea Alex had been feeling like this and honestly it made you feel even worse.

“do you think there’s anything i could do to help him? i don’t want him feeling like this and i want to help him” you wiped your cheeks, you still felt sad at how Alex spoke to you but you felt even more sad that Alex was feeling just as awful.

Miles went to talk but was cut off by banging on his front door. he frowned but nevertheless got up and went to go open the door. “Miles, thank god. i haven’t heard from y/b and she’s not with any of her friends. i need you to help me try and find-” you heard Alex and quickly turned to look at the doorway. he looked frantic, and his face changed from worry to anger in a matter of seconds. “y/n what the fuck? i haven’t heard from you i was worried sick” he shouted at you making you flinch.

“Alex i’m sorry but i just-” you tried to speak but he cut you off. “no y/n. i was so worried about you, you didn’t even reply to my messages and you’re here with my best friend? we have a fight and this is the first place you come too?” he shouted at you making your eyes fill with tears yet again.

you hadn’t even realised that he was messaging you, you were so focused on speaking to Miles checking your phone had completely slipped your mind. “do you have any idea how worried i was? i thought something had happened to you and this whole time you were here with Miles. that’s ridiculous y/n” Miles shook his head and put his hand on Alex’s shoulder to try calm him down.

“come on mate she didn’t mean to ignore you, we were just talking about what had happened it wasn’t her fault it was mine” he tried to defuse the situation but it was no use. “no Miles don’t try take the blame. y/n you done this on purpose, you’re just so selfish i can’t believe this is where you were. is something going on between the two of you? so that why you came here?” you were shocked at what you were hearing. you would never ever cheat on Alex.

“what? are you joking?” he stood there, his face not changing one bit as he awaited your answer. “that is almost laughable that you’d even think that. i love you. i’m still madly in love with you and im sick and tired of you talking to me like im a piece of shit” tears were now flowing down your cheeks as you stood up and barged past him, making sure to knock his shoulder.

“well, you really fucked that one up Alex” Miles sighed. Alex bowed his head, he had pushed you away and been so rude to you that now you’d left him. he’d lost you and he’d never regretted something more in his whole life.

[punk4ndisorderly]

waking up in vegas

Y/N just wanted to forget about this week from hell. In Vegas, she forgets just about everything, including her aversion to marriage.

or

Y/N gets extremely drunk and marries a random man she meets in Las Vegas

absinthe | last name | consequences

warnings: underage drinking, possible innuendos.

"I told you this was a bad idea. Bringing rookies to Las Vegas is bad luck!" Alex groaned loudly, walking back and forth in the suite's sitting room.

"This isn't bad luck, this is Trevor being a dumbass." Quinn corrected from his seat, his eyes glued to his phone. "Well, him and the rest of you jackasses. No offense, Leo."

The rookie looked away from the amazing view to look at the veteran. "None taken."

Trevor sighed, throwing his head back against the seat rest. Quinn wasn't wrong about him making really dumb decisions. He could feel the gold ring burning into his skin as he listened to his friends discuss his latest fuck-up. He had really gone and done it this time, hadn't he?

"First of all, Leo was never here, alright?" Jack asserted. "The only thing worse than getting married when you're one shot away from getting your stomach pumped is to do it with a drunk minor you got a fake ID for in the entourage."

"This is why I don't drink with you guys." Jamie said from the bathroom.

"No, you don't drink with us because last time you did you puked everywhere."

"Guys! Not the time." the blond man intervened, raising his hand in the air, the golden band demanding everyone's attention. "I need to figure out how to undo this."

Everyone looked at each other, no clue what to do next. It wasn't common for a group of men in the 18-24 year-old range to know about legal proceedings or how to clean up their own messes. It was usually all tidy and taken care of before they even realised there was a problem to be dealt with.

"Well, first off, we need to find your wife." Quinn pointed out. "Then, we need to get down to whatever wedding chapel you dumb idiots stumbled into, and ask for an annulment, I guess. Oh, you should warn your agent and ask for a lawyer, too."

"Can you guys imagine Z having to give a random chick half of his money because he got blackout drunk in Vegas? Oh dude, you'd go down in hockey history." Alex chuckled to himself, getting hit with a pillow not long after.

"God, my mom is going to kill me." Trevor groaned, throwing himself on the large, unmade bed he had woken up in with a complete stranger he had decided to marry staring down at him.

"Forget about your mom, Trev. The Ducks are going to lose their shit." Cole mused. "This is terrible publicity."

"There's no such thing as bad publicity, brothers." Jack countered, poking Trevor's back with the remote he found on his dresser. "Get up, dude. Quinny's right. We've got to find your wife and convince her to unmarry you."

"Oh trust me, she doesn't want any of this." he gestured to his body, going limp again after he did. "She ran faster than Bolt when I showed her the name on the ring."

"Yeah, well, we need to get to her before anyone else does and this gets out." Quinn said matter-of-factly, annoyed that, yet again, he has been roped into one of Trevor's shenanigans.

"Does she know who you are?" Jamie asked, propped up against the doorframe.

"Nope. She didn't do the screech and she wasn't taking pictures of me sleeping when I woke up. Last time that happened..."

"This happens regularly?" Leo nearly screeched, looking panicked.

"If you're Trevor, yeah." Cole shrugged. "Never to this extent until today, but... Don't worry, rookie, the fact that you look alarmed already tells us you've got more functional brain cells than he does, you'll be fine."

A sudden knock on the door halted the conversation, prompting Quinn to release another exasperated sigh and answer it. He should definitely stop letting his brother convince him to come on their trips, he already knew he'd be the babysitter at the brink of a nervous breakdown by the end of it.

He opened the door, being greeted by a small woman, backed up by tall redhead, surprise evident on their faces.

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah, we're looking for the ass my best friend ran away with and ended up married to last night. You know anything about that, sad-looking little boy?" Y/F/N/2 fired away, pointing at the eldest Hughes.

A cackle came from inside, Cole turning up beside him in the next instant. "I think you're in the right place, ladies."

Quinn rolled his eyes, stepping aside so the two women could come inside, meeting the other men in the living room, who immediately sized them up and down, eyebrows raised, most likely waiting for their reaction.

No reaction. They could not give two shits about them, and the annoyed looks on their faces were proof of it.

"Where's Travis?"

"Trevor." Y/N corrected her friend, using her fingers to rub at her temples. "I'm pretty sure we've got the right room."

"Yeah, you got the right one..." the blond man spoke quietly, probably for the first time in his life, coming from the bedroom. "Wife."

-

welcome to the ducks, leo! also, i totally made up the "rookies in vegas bad luck" thing. i do it all for the plot!

[em-harlsnow]

i just can’t stop thinking about Franny as a teen getting a boyfriend/girlfriend and taking them to meet her uncles.

so she’s like 15 and her partner’s already met Debbie. now, meeting Franny’s mother (single mother, so they’re UNBELIEVABLY close) was scary enough. they don’t think it’s gonna be that bad meeting the uncles, even tho Franny talks about them constantly. they don’t really realise who her uncles are.

see, Milkoviches are a very overpopulated species. there are definitely a few hanging around Franny’s public school, causing trouble. Franny’s partner (i’m gonna call them Alex for time sake) thinks it’s a little weird that the Milkoviches never bother neither Alex or Franny much, but doesn’t think much of it.

Franny takes Alex to Ian and Mickey’s house (not the Westside flat) She has Fred and her other cousin in tow (because ofc they all go to the same school) and they’re going to have dinner and maybe swim for a bit. Franny wanted to take the L because she’s 15 now and is able to find her own way, thank you very much.

They’re walking in this crappy neighbourhood and Alex sees a guy sitting on the steps of one of the houses. He has aggressive knuckle tattoos and a lit cigarette in hand. He doesn’t notice them, but he looks kind of scary. Alex severely hopes this is not Franny’s uncle. Of course, then Franny’s calling out ‘Mickey!’ and the brunette is instantly turning to greet her. He hugs Franny and Fred and Fred’s sibling. Then, he looks Alex up and down. Franny orders him to be nice, which does not calm Alex’s quickly rising nerves.

Alex remembers what Franny made them rehearse, and says something like ‘hello Mr Gallagher, nice to meet you’. Mickey scoffs, but smiles a little at the politeness. Mickey corrects the surname ‘it’s Milkovich, but thanks - and call me Mickey.’ And suddenly Alex is a little more scared because Alex has met Milkoviches and heard a lot about them. Mickey is clearly protective of Franny and does not look pleased to have Alex here. Franny drags them all inside and a tall ginger - who Alex assumes is her other uncle - greets Alex much more warmly. Ian swings Fred around and scruffs Franny’s shorter hair, then pulls his husband in by the shoulders. ‘cheer up, you’re so grumpy’ he says.

Ian gets a loving ‘fuck off’ in reply but they stay close. They finish making dinner together and Ian regularly tells Mickey to ‘be nice to Alex, Mick’ because he keeps grilling them about how they do in school, their friends, everything. Franny tells Mickey about how Little Danny Milkovich - who Alex discovers is Mickey’s nephew, who he sees a bit but not as much as Fran and Fred and his sibling (who i can’t be bothered to name), and Iggy Milkovich’s son - threw an empty plastic water bottle at Alex’s head last week. Franny tells Mickey how when she threatened to send Mickey to talk to Iggy about it, Danny immediately apologised. Mickey finds it funny, because as much as he would never hurt the little Milkovich kid, he’s scarier than Iggy and a stern voice can be very intimidating. He would not have it if anyone did anything to his Ginger Gallaghers.

Alex leaves with a new-found respect for Franny as they did not realise she stood up for them against the little Milkovich terror and remains slightly afraid of Franny’s overprotective uncles.

[ninacarstairss]

an incomplete list of things that will make me go feral if they’re included in the movie:

alex pulling henry in the red room and “impugning his virtue” against a painting of alexander hamilton and amy out the door pretending not to know what that horny little bitch of fsotus is up to

henry offering to get out of alex’s life to make it easier for him and alex brushing it off, only to realise later what henry was truly offering him and how stupid he was not to see it

oscar talking to alex at the lake house. oscar seeing him and accepting him. alex looking at henry, nora and june (yes i know she’s not in the movie just let me dream. he can be looking at henry, nora and pez too) and feeling like his world is complete. the night on the porch swing. sometimes you just jump and hope it’s not a cliff. the night in the lake. the little stone of certainty alex feels in his chest as he’s making breakfast.

yeah so just the lake house part

uma thurman delivering a power point presentation about dating the prince of england and alex running out when she brings up protections and pamphlets

jesus, could you stop being an obtuse fucking asshole for, like, twenty seconds?

so glad you flew here to insult me—

i fucking love you, okay?

the issue of le monde that henry keeps on his nightstand from the first time they woke up together

i want you. then fucking have me—

alex waking up in kensington in an empty bed, henry coming back, looking at alex and going “your hair in the morning is truly a wonder to behold” before making the world’s best declaration of love

“When he got older, he learned about love as a strange thing that could fall apart no matter how badly you wanted it, a choice you make anyway. He never imagined it'd turn out he was right both times.” there is like a 0,1% chance of this making it into the movie but i have this tattooed on my skin and it would be so perfect to see it on screen

alex saying in front of the fucking queen that he wants henry’s children

henry rambling about art and history in the v&a and alex pulling him into a kiss because he just loves him so much

i’m taking a picture of a national gay landmark. and also a statue

alex panicking about henry having to enlist

shaan having to dislodge philip from the chandelier when henry comes out to him

i’ve been gay as a maypole since i came out of mum, philip

henry’s obsession with jaffa cakes and mr wobbles

the memories email. I took that down to the gardens. I pressed it into the leaves of a silver maple and recited it to the Waterloo Vase. It didn't fit in any rooms.

alex being a brat about the turkeys “put them in my room put them in my room put them in my room”

And then, inexplicably, you had the absolute audacity to love me back. Can you believe it?

alex calling henry at christmas and telling him all about his family drama and henry simply telling him that he did his best, the only thing he really needed to hear

most things in this world are awful . but you are good

alex’s list of things he loves about henry (especially points 16 to 18)

henry writing down the list in the email and then calling henry anyway because he knows he likes to have these things written down but he needs to talk to him

alex kissing henry in front of a giambologna

Sería una mentira, porque no sería el.

the drunk bad metaphors about maps email

alex being summoned by the president after the email leaks and ellen just asking him “are you okay?”

alex’s whole family being there for him after the email leaks, hugging him through a panic attack and allowing him to be himself after a traumatic event that had to be dealt with in a strategic political way

or so help me God I will personally make your balls into fucking earrings. zahra you fucking queen

the call from the plane. “sweetheart” he hears henry’s exhale over the line. “hi love. are you okay?”

alex and henry running to hug each other as soon as alex gets to kensington

i won’t lie. not about you. alex and henry saying at the same moment that they want to do this, they want to tell the truth, because lying about this is not an option

the little touches between them. whether it’s holding hands beneath a buchkingham palace table or hugging in a closed room or pressing a knee agains the other in a public place, because that is a tether, a gravity that makes the world make sense

bea’s speech about grief and how it’s like a pie. i want to cry really hard

numbers on one of us getting involved in a sex scandal before the end of second term?

henry sticking out his chin in that defiant way

I love him, with all that, because of all that. On purpose. I love him on purpose.

"Plus we banged it our last night” shaan and zahra being a power couple

bea dumping the tea pot on philip and going “all that cocaine i did must have really done a job on my reflexes!”

the han and leia mural

dc dykes on bikes chasing protesters

To you, specifically, I say: I see you. I am one of you. As long as I have a place in this White House, so will you. I am the First Son of the United States, and I'm bisexual. History will remember us.

alex’s face being plastered on chocolate bars and thongs with henry’s after the royal suitor photos

henry telling alex he’s opening the queer shelters worlwide. henry telling alex he bought a brownstone in brooklyn

the flashbacks to election night 2016 when alex saw zahra crying and all those women taking in the moment their first madam president was elected

alex and henry biking through austin, alex opening the door to his childhood home with henry by his side

a little flash forward into their future and alex calling henry the love of his life, henry choosing the place for a credenza in his brownstone, going on vacations together and falling in love all over again, savouring their time together with no fear of getting caught, june and nora finally kissing and alex being shook at pez’s comment, henry realising he doesn’t want to ever go back, henry listening to alex talk to his mum about marriage when he has also bought a ring, henry and alex buying a house far from the public eye, having the quiet life they never had, june subletting the brownstone to be closer to pez and nora, “you and me”

[icallhimjoey]

All Goes South

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joe is overworked, tired, exhausted and just... he needs a break. Everyone knows it, too. None of it is really exciting to him anymore. Then, he meets you, and something reignites within him.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, drinking, rpf, fem!reader, angst, mentions of smut

Author’s note: Wee woo wee woo! Last part alert! The 2004 film that inspired me was First Daughter (and I guess, that means Chasing Liberty too). Some girls got it shockingly fast and my inbox is full of messages of girls guessing correctly, so well done! Hope you all enjoy this last part!

Wordcount: 5.5k

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Mistake.

That was a mistake. All of it. You. You were a mistake.

“Yea, well... we’ll see,” Joe could hear your voice echo in his mind. He’d seen it now, and desperately wished he could unsee it all.

In the car on the way to Joe's film premier, he stared out of the window with wide eyes, a hand covering his mouth, brain buried deep in thought. In shock, because what the fuck had just happened?

"She was just doing her job, mate... I don't know what to tell–"

"She's an undergrad." Joe interrupted, voice stern, not blinking, eyes still staring. You didn't have a job.

"Yea, she's interning for Victoria. Josephine helps her out a lot too... she'd been given an assignment, and... fucking aced it, if I'm being honest, so Vic's gonna offer her a job,"

Joe then turned his head, looked at his manager and felt something snap and recoil inside his head.

Joe's manager saw, and immediately jumped to your defense.

"We needed to get you out there, Joe... you were calling in sick left, right and center - we asked if you if minded an intern joining the team, you said you didn't mind, so an intern joined the team. I don't know what to tell you..." 

Joe tried to ignore it, looked away, eyes trained out the window, worked away the tears that built in his eyes from sheer anger, and got his phone out to distract him. Pretended he wasn't trapped in a car with someone defending you, standing up for you, after the most devastating thing ever had just happened to him.

"You fucked off to the toilets again, and were in there for, what, twenty minutes? She asked if she could try something, and Victoria told her to do whatever because none of us were getting through to you, we tried everything, didn't we? Josephine said she'd get Victoria to hire her right after her internship if she could manage to get you to stop canceling on everything... we were at our wit's end,"

Joe's breathing grew heavier, and if his fingernails were longer, the palms of his hands would've bled.

"And she fucking nailed it, didn't she? She did a stellar job. Got you out there. Got you smiling, all... I don't know, all happy? Paid your bills–"

"Don’t."

So close to breaking, Joe only had to say that once to shut Alex up fully. Knew if he would've kept going, Joe would've broken down completely. Would've started crying for real, and Joe didn't know if he'd be able to stop himself if that were to happen.

A silence took over, Joe's mind reeling, and then, he blocked your number.

What a fucking mistake, how the fuck could he not have seen it? Could he not have puzzled it together? He couldn't actually believe it. This was taking humiliation to a whole different level.

He tried to make sense of it, but couldn't for the life of him.

You'd eavesdropped on Joe's meeting at that restaurant you said you used to work at. Made it sound like you weren't with them, with him, at all. They'd been lies. Lies by omission, maybe. But still fucking lies.

You'd shown him out that backdoor, and then he'd asked if you wanted to join him, like an idiot, and Joe realised, that was the first mistake he had made. He remembered all the phone calls and the texts he'd gotten that night from his team. Had you not received any?

The second mistake was banning chat about work. Would you have told him if he hadn't swiped the topic off the table? Would your silly round of questions have involved work-related questions? And would Joe have learnt then that you were part of the team of people he'd ran away from then?

These were questions he knew he was never going to get an answer to.

He could think of so many more mistakes. He should have never let you take him over to Swingers, should have never taken you over to Duck & Waffle and should have never insisted on taking you home.

And you had fucking warned him too, hadn't you?

Joe closed his eyes, absolutely livid with himself as he realised you'd actually warned him. You'd been so hesitant, had said, "I don’t want to make mistakes," which then lead to Joe taking full responsibility for all of the upcoming mistakes the two of you made. Why did he do that? What the fuck was actually wrong with him?!

But it was never fully his fault.

Because Joe didn't know.

Joe had no idea.

Joe could blame himself for a lot, but the biggest mistake was the one that you made. The biggest mistake was the information you'd withheld. The purposefully vague explanation of your internship, the exclusion of any details of what it really was that you did. That was all on you.

Joe angrily puzzled things together in the silence of that backseat. Things sort of started dawning on him. Started making sense a little more. In hindsight, Joe felt like a fucking idiot because hadn't it all been so fucking obvious?!

You'd been very jittery a lot.

Very nervous.

Would almost succumb under a pressure Joe never fully understood, but he had wanted to be so helpful, so supportive.

Was it all fretfulness to be found out? To run into someone who was going to tell Joe? Tell him that the girl he'd fallen so hard for - fuck, he was in so fucking deep - that she was lying to him? Is that what that stupid bouncy leg was all about? The clammy hands? Those fearful eyes?

Joe realised he'd bitten through his bottom lip when he suddenly tasted blood.

Shit, he fucking loved you. He realised it then and there and wanted to smash in the windows. The whole thing was a disaster.

The taxi pulled up outside of the office where Joe got changed into a fancy looking suit. The office was just around the corner from Leicester Square anyway, so he made it perfectly on time. Didn't look anyone in the eye, though. Not until he stepped foot onto the red carpet.

Joe smiled at people behind the barriers.

Joe smiled at the wall of photographers.

Joe smiled at the people holding microphones.

Joe smiled at his coworkers, at his costars, at other celebrities.

Joe smiled the whole time.

Yet, it never reached his eyes.

Joe loved you, and you'd gone and fucked it all up.

Once people started making their way inside, Joe was pulled aside, and then, was told to go home. He looked awful, like he was on the verge of a mental break down. But then Joe said,

"Oh no, I'm staying." and turned into a real bitch of a man.

"This is important, isn't it? Can't skip my own premier, oh no, this is the type of shit you come and get me for, right? The big event that I definitely wasn't allowed miss out on, just, had to be dragged from a date–" Joe closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose in frustration. He didn't like that he'd just called that a date.

"I'm staying." He finished, but as he said those last two words, he was already walking backwards.

"I'm staying. Because you need me out here, right? Need me to stop canceling on everything? I'm staying. I'm fucking staying." and then Joe stretched out both his arms with both middle fingers raised, and left.

Joe sent an e-mail to his team from the car that drove him home.

"Taking an indefinite leave of absence. Please direct any and all questions towards Alex, he'll assist."

And then, for the next two and a half weeks, no one managed to get into contact with him. They tried - you tried - but Joe dodged all calls, blocked various numbers, and let all e-mails go unanswered.

He needed time to think.

Joe granted himself the break he needed a long time ago, got drunk more than was good for him, spoke to his mum and dad a bunch, and cried when he found the toothbrush you used in his medicine cabinet.

All for a fucking job.

And sure, Joe had seen your flat, had seen the way you lived. Had heard you wish for a real job, one that would pay you enough to move to a different place. One without a messy flatmate, and one with a gorgeous bathtub.

But still.

Joe couldn't get it out of his head.

Couldn't accept that in such a short amount of time he allowed himself to fully love someone that could do such awful things to him.

Couldn't accept that he loved you at all.

And that he missed you.

Fuck, he missed you so fucking much.

Joe dreamt about you a lot. Somehow couldn't shake your face in his sleep. It found him every time, and each morning, it took him real convincing not to call you. Not to reach out. Not to pretend that nothing bad had ever really happened. He had to actively remind himself that you pretended you were something else to get him to do his job.

He just hoped not all of it had been pretend.

Some things had to have been real... right?

Joe dreamt and reality-checked for days, until time settled things. Anger settled into sadness, and sadness dulled over time.

Joe was never mad at his team. He realised they were all nice, kind people who wanted nothing but the best for him. So when, after seventeen days, Joe's manager decided to stop by to check on him, Joe didn't hesitate to let him in.

Alex didn't come over to talk Joe back into work, but after a short catch up, apologies exchanged, Alex suggested for Joe to stop by the office. Not for any meetings. But, just to come by and see everyone. Joe's team cared about him. They wanted to know if he was doing all right.

But the chances of running into you made Joe hesitate.

Alex immediately took back the suggestion when Joe didn't really respond to it. "Take however long you need, mate, no rush,"

Joe blinked and smiled, but it was sad.

"No, no, it's just... I can't run into her," Joe confessed, and immediately knew he shared too much when he saw his manager's face scrunch up in confusion before it turned into a frown.

"Were you dating?"

It was as if the penny only just dropped for him then, and Joe thought, why else do you think I reacted the way I did, you fucking idiot? Didn't say that, of course. Instead, he stared at a fixed spot on his kitchen island and said,

"I think it was somehow more than that,"

Alex frowned deeper.

"Didn't you only meet like, a month ago?"

"Yea," Joe's eyes grew but remained fixed on that same spot. "It was a second nature sort of... instinctual thing. Makes it all worse, somehow,"

The fact that all of it was based on lies, Joe meant.

A moment of silence passed where neither man said anything, and Joe let his mind drift off, thought of your face for a little bit, until suddenly, he cleared his throat loudly and then Alex slapped his own legs.

"Well," Alex said before getting up, and finding his jacket to sling his arms back into. "No need to worry about running into her at the office,"

Joe looked up at his manager, blank faced.

"She concluded the internship, and then didn't take Vic up on the job offer, so, you know,"

"Hang on," Joe placed a hand over his eyes for a second, now his turn to be confused. "She didn't take the job?"

"Probably for the best, isn't it? Seeing as there... was something, between the two of you," Alex gestured vaguely, unaware of how this little piece of information derailed just about, um, everything.

You didn't take the fucking job? What the fuck?!

Alex saw Joe tap impatient fingers on the counter as his eyes darted around, clearly calculating his next move. He was about to say something, but then Joe said, "Thanks, Alex," before redirecting his attention to his phone.

You put plates down onto a shelf and rubbed the back of your hand over your brow when your phone buzzed in your pocket. You weren't meant to answer, but you couldn't help sneak a look at who was trying to reach you. When you saw, you thought for a second you were making things up.

That said Joe.

Joe was calling you.

Without even checking if any of the guests could see you from where you were stood, you answered.

"Joe?"

"Where are you?"

It took you a moment to register Joe's question, his tone of voice, and the urgency with which he spoke.

"I'm..."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at work, Joe. What's going on?"

"Where's work?" Joe sounded impatient and was loud, practically screaming down the phone. You heard keys jingle and the bang of a door slamming shut.

"I- I got my old job back, at the restaurant... Joe, are you all right, what's wrong?"

But Joe'd already hung up. You texted, "I'm working til close, do you want to meet after?" but the text bounced. You were still blocked.

You spent the next however many minutes eyeing the entrance of the restaurant like a hawk from behind the bar as you absentmindedly twirled a dry wineglass in a dry towel.

What the fuck was going on? Why had Joe called you? Why did he need to know where you were? And why did your gut feeling tell you that something was terribly, terribly wrong?

You watched the entrance and twirled that wineglass, long dried by now, until you convinced yourself that Joe wasn't actually going to come over to see you.

Then suddenly, you saw him.

But he rushed past the windows. Power-walked right by the restaurant without glancing inside.

Shit.

The back door.

You put the glass back on its shelf and hung the towel neatly on its hook, before stepping into the kitchen.

You already heard it then.

Loud, rapid banging, unmistakably from both of Joe's fists that hammered the door urgently.

The loud banging stopped when the door opened a little at first, and then a lot, as you fully pushed it open.

Joe was there, panting in the alleyway, and he looked unwell. Pale, eyes red-rimmed, and harshly underlined by dark circles. He looked broken in a way you hadn't been able to even imagine him, and it stabbed you right in the center of your heart.

Joe looked awful, like he hadn't slept in weeks, but above all else, he looked fucking furious.

"Joe," you croaked, barely a whisper that had to compete with the loud noises coming from the kitchen behind you.

Joe's face was like an open book, so expressive, which was just the worst. You saw everything. All of it. His outrage, the humiliation, the clear desire to inflict harm, upon you, you imagined. All so recognisable, so familiar. You wished you couldn't see any of it, but you could. Joe wanted you to, and it made the guilt that had camped out in your chest for weeks now grow to a new size.

It instantly made you want to burst into tears. It was painful, but you understood you deserved that.

Joe didn't move. Just stood there, breathing heavily, looking at you, and you understood this was going to be it. Joe was going to get all of it out. Confront you about everything. Make you feel horrid in new and different ways, and even though inside the restaurant it was busy and you had a job to do, you decided that this was more important.

Joe was here to end it.

Okay, you thought definitively. If Joe needed this, you were going to bear it. It felt like the least you could do.

"I'm taking five," you shouted over your shoulder, and you stepped outside, letting the backdoor fall shut behind you. Now it was just the two of you in that grimy alleyway where you remembered Joe asking you to come with him weeks ago. When it all started.

“Hi,” you said on an exhale when the silence dragged on too long. It felt stupid, but you didn't know what else to say.

Joe faced everything he’d been afraid of facing. His heart broke and leapt for joy all at once. He'd missed you. So much. Seeing you in the flesh made it undeniable which was really fucking annoying. You'd hadn't even known each other for two months, and hadn't even seen each other for over half of it. And yet, he had missed you so, wanted nothing more than for you to collide with each other in this moment, because even though there were so many things he was mad about, he really fucking missed you.

Joe's throat swelled and his expression faltered slightly. He swallowed hard, not fast enough for you to not see it, but he hoped you didn't notice the softness within him that he still kept for you. 

The air between you was sweltering despite the low temperatures and for a moment, you allowed yourself to close your eyes. Geared up for whatever Joe was going to throw at you. Gathered what you needed and made more room in your chest because more bad feelings were going to have to fit in there.

"Look at me," 

You did, but immediately wished you didn't. You could see how devastated Joe was in close-up detail, all of the inner turmoil that bubbled up inside him, and you kind of wanted to self-destruct. Wanted it to hurt you, wanted that punishment - anything to make this inside ache go away.

Joe took a long look at you and held your gaze and fuck, it was really difficult to not look away. Then he drew a deep, angry, close-lipped inhale and finally said, 

"You didn't take the job?"  

Joe spat the words at you accusingly, eyes narrowed, facial expression one of pure disgust, like it was the worst thing you could have ever done to him. You frowned a little, confused, because that wasn't what you expected. But he was right, you didn't take that job. How could you have?

"Of course I didn't," 

Thing is, that was exactly the wrong thing to say. Joe didn't want to hear about how you had taken the moral high ground. He didn't want to hear the explanation you had ready from the start, one that hadn't changed throughout the weeks, hadn't really transformed into anything deeper. 

You looked at the person that you loved, and then hurt so viciously. 

"How could I have?" 

Joe glared at you, anger building and starting to spill out, sort of like he couldn't believe what you were saying. You thought it made perfect sense, though.  

"So you made me go through all of that for fuck all?" 

Joe gestured wildly, took a step back and started pacing. You could practically feel the anger exuding off of him. It was so heated - hot enough to burn you, if you weren't careful. 

"Made me question everything for no reason? Why? Was I not worth it?"

There wasn’t much more you could do but show your defeat. Stand still. No movement. Just, sad eyes. Let Joe know you never meant for any of this to happen, even if you understood that it was your fault that all of it had.

"Joe, I'm sorry," your brows knitted together. You were sorry. Would tell him a million times if you needed to. But you also knew that it was never going to be enough. You'd clipped Joe's wings and were now telling him, oops, shouldn't have done that. Like that was going to fix anything.

Joe then whirled around, arms held out wide, like there was an audience. 

"What does that even mean?" 

You went cold all over and could feel tears welling up as you frowned hard. 

"It means I wish I didn't fuck all of it up–" 

"You didn't take the job!" Joe interrupted loudly, making you flinch, before he continued speaking on a more sensible volume level. "You didn't take the– she didn't take the fucking job," Joe kicked against a steel bin, made the lid go flying which crashed hard against the asphalt. You flinched and saw Joe place both hands behind his head as he stared down the alley towards the main road with wet eyes and a red, blotchy face. 

"You didn't take the- you decided to lie to me for weeks, fucking weeks, and then... for what?" 

You distantly felt tears spilling down your own face, but couldn't focus on anything other than Joe who seemed to slowly, kind of... lose it. Lose himself, in real time, right in front of you.

He couldn't even look at you. Fuck, he thought so many things, but most things died in his throat because, look at you. 

He fucking loved you.

The overwhelming need to comfort and care for Joe started filling up the empty spaces in your chest and it melted together with the guilt. It made a scolding, hot, thick mash that boiled your lungs.

You took a single step forward. Wanted to take Joe's hurt away and slot that shit into your own chest where it belonged.

"Joe," 

You reached for Joe's hand, but got his arm instead. You took it. Would take what Joe was going to give you. Joe let you hold his arm with plenty of noticeable distance between you still.

"Why did you do it?" Joe's voiced cracked right down the middle, all filled with hurt and complex anger. The eyes that watched you seemed a little cooler then, that fiery heat simmered down a little.

Your eyes moved between his in a long gaze that pleaded for forgiveness you knew you didn't deserve. Your mouth was dry as you began to speak, and you croaked, "How could I not have?"

Joe scoffed, rubbed a palm at his mouth and looked away from you. It was the space you needed, the distance the loss of eye-contact granted to get all these dangerous feelings out. 

"It.... it was magic." you sighed, and saw Joe crumble, his head fully turning away from you as you moved memories to the forefront of his mind. 

"It was so beautiful, Joe. It was real, all of it was. We went and flew south together, and it was never meant to be more than me getting you out of that meeting... I just wanted to get you out, give you the break you so desperately needed. They were all saying it, how you needed a break. And I risked my internship because it almost felt inhumane what they were making you do. I'd seen your schedule…" 

Joe impatiently shook a knee in and out of over-stretching, and you knew it was because they were difficult words to accept. You watched Joe's face scrunch up, brows knitted together, and he was completely open. All vulnerable, all real. Nothing exaggerated.

"You lied to me," Joe's voice sounded like it was made of glass, and you instinctively ran a hand down his arm to clasp his hand. To your surprise, Joe let your fingers intertwine and squeezed your hand impossibly tight, desperately clinging on.

It might have been a moment of weakness from his side, but that would be fine. If Joe was to snatch away his hand in a second, at least you, got to hold his hand for that single second. It was more than you deserved, you were well aware.

"I did," you breathed heavily, closed your eyes and lowered your head. Accepted that Joe had seen the worst of you. "I did and I am sorry, I should've told you right from the start, but then–" 

"But then you didn't," 

You let your other hand reach up to cup his cheek, and Joe immediately leant into it, closed his eyes and granted himself this little moment of closeness.

"But then I didn't, and now..."  

You didn't need to finish. 

A silence followed, and for a second, your mind went back to where you were. You were in the alleyway behind the restaurant you worked at - currently were working a shift at. Any minute your manager was probably going to come out and get you. 

"And now you didn't take the job," Joe finished your sentence for you, and for a small moment, you thought he was going to step away. Let go of you. Walk away without looking back.

But he didn't.

Instead he blinked tears into his lashes and looked down as he let the hand that wasn't holding onto yours play with the ties of your apron that was wrapped around your waist.

This wasn't the end.

"I'm so sorry," you repeated yourself as you blinked tears down your own face, your hand now sliding down Joe's chest. You tried to hold yourself together as much as you could, and then promised, "I'll do whatever I need to do to make this right. I fucked up. This is my fault."

Joe let go of your hand and brought both hands to your waist before letting his forehead fall against yours.

"You should've taken the job," Joe whispered before sniffing thickly, exhaling wetly through his mouth. "It would've made it all so much easier,"

Had you taken the job, Joe could've just let hate take over. Slot you into a box labeled terrible people alongside others that wronged him in his life. But now it was all fucked up because not taking the job meant something to Joe.

Mistakes.

They were all mistakes.

And people... people made mistakes. All the time. Never intentionally. Mistakes were never intentional.

Joe felt you shake your head a little against his, and your bottom lip trembled, but you sounded surprisingly solid when you said, "Taking the job would've meant losing you. I'd rather lose a job than destroy every ounce of a second chance I know I don't deserve,"

Little did you know that the minute Joe learned that you didn't take the job, you'd been granted all the second chances you'd ever need. Joe found himself suddenly made from second chances then, all of them individually crafted specifically for you.

That's when Joe's arms wrapped around you and he pulled you into a hug that made your knees nearly give out at how much you wanted it. Your arms slung around his neck, and Joe pressed his face into yours. It was all wet.

When he spoke again, his voice was muffled but rough, not angry but strengthless. "You're all I can think about, no matter how hard I try not to." He burrowed deeper, gripped harder and you felt the shudder of a sob as you pressed your full body against his. "I've only known you for like, a second, but I can't stop thinking about you,"

Fucking hell.

You were in the alleyway, hugging each other tightly after weeks of hatred and humiliation and guilt and regret, and you were both crying.

"I'm sorry," Joe whispered when he collected enough breath to shape the words, and his words took you off guard.

"No, this is my fault," you reassured.

"I'm sorry," Joe said again, and it made you move back enough to take careful hold of Joe's face. You had to dip your head to force eye-contact, to make him look.

You wanted to tell him he didn't need to be sorry. You wanted to say he had nothing to be sorry for. You wanted to let him know again that this was all on you. You wanted to repeat your words until they didn't feel like real words anymore.

Instead Joe leant in and kissed you.

He came in harsh, and it was deep and intimate from the get-go, his tongue in your mouth and coaxing yours into his, his breathing erratic from crying, lips and tongues smacking - it was fucking obscene, but so easy to drown into. It was wet, and salty, dried tears mixing with fresh ones, all dramatic, drenched in pent up emotions that had built up for weeks. 

You let Joe maneuver you back up against the brick wall, which scraped harshly against your skin and hurt the back of your head, but you didn't care. 

Joe's grip on you strengthened as did the pressure of him pushing himself into you more, like he was working out deep-seated anger, which, yea, kind of checked out, and you made a noise that sounded so stupidly fragile, you had to pretend it wasn't you who let it slip. 

There was no need for pretending, though. Joe had already swallowed it, and responded with a moan of his own. 

Joe was kissing you, none of it gentle but instead violent, and breathless, and you didn't want this to end, ever. Wanted Joe close forever. 

Joe pulled back enough to ground out, "Up," as his arms curled around your backside and with a little hop, you were up in a powerful hold. You immediately locked your legs around Joe's waist and without a single inch of separation between your bodies, Joe sighed deeply into your mouth as your fingers scraped into his hair on either side of his head.

Close.

You could feel Joe's erection bulging tightly in his jeans.

This is what you meant when you said that it was magic. You belonged in Joe's arms like this. This was a thing of pure beauty. This was the earth pulling the moon. The moon pulling the oceans, creating high tides Joe didn't really know what to do with. You were ethereal. This was everything.

This was birds escaping their cages, leaving the cold weather for others to deal with, flapping wild wings, and flying south.

Birds escaped their cages when the backdoor of the restaurant swung open and interrupted you. You were asked if you were going to come back inside since you were on the clock, and Joe said, "No, she’s not." You looked at Joe, all confused, still held up in his arms and pressed against that brick wall and asked him, "I’m not?" It wasn’t enough to make Joe laugh, nowhere near, but you could see a little smile that only lasted a second. It was the first stretch of wide wings, feathers reaching out, finally free of constrictive confines.

Birds left the cold weather when you woke up in Joe's bed the next day in the early morning sunlight in the nude, soft limbs tangled, hearts singing and healing, and he smiled at you before telling you he just got off the phone with his publicist. The job offer was still standing, and if you wanted it, Joe thought you should seriously reconsider. "You’d make such a great publicist," he said. "Not yours," you carefully joked, and he laughed, "No, not mine."

Wings flapped wildly and took you up high into the air when weeks later, you were talking to a client in the kitchen at the office and Joe walked by but stopped to blow softly into your ear before carrying on. A tease, a sure-fire way he knew he was going to make you blush and get all flustered. You only raised a quick shoulder to it, powered through, facial expression unwavering, and the person you were talking to had witnessed these types of things between the two of you so often, they didn’t even acknowledge it. Just kept your conversation going as you both heard Joe chuckle to himself before he entered a meeting with his team.

You flew south, crossed borders into warmer weather when, about an hour later, you saw Joe wait for the elevator after his meeting and you decided, as payback for earlier, to quickly join him for the ride down. You joined a couple of other people, and then when the doors closed and everyone stood facing the same way, you placed a warm palm over his crotch with a straight face and Joe had to close his eyes and bite his lip to make sure no noises would slip out. When the doors opened again at the ground floor and everyone filtered out, the two of you remained and Joe whispered, "This is not the same as blowing some air into your ear," and as a reply you squeezed, and Joe couldn’t wait and so didn't wait for the doors to close before he launched himself at you.

Joe'd been right when you'd first met: lone birds were bad luck.

These two birds were flying south and there was no fucking way one was going to leave without the other.

One for sorrow. Two for joy.

And it was beautiful down south. Blissfully gorgeous. Warm, and soft. Tender, and fun. Real. It was all laughter, all scalp-scratches and pure, utter, sheer magic.

It was magic.

the end

---

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