#but when i was in the alex time loop and had so much going on i was always busy

[tsunodaradio]

to be honest ⛐ 𝐀𝐀𝟐𝟑

“i’m sorry i had a machine hooked up to me and i couldn’t lie.” 

ꔮ starring: alex albon x girlfriend!reader. ꔮ word count: 1.4k. ꔮ includes: romance, fluff fluff fluff. inspired by and references the Does Alex Albon think he is No. 1 at Williams? | The Lie Detector video, secret (not for long, sucker) relationship. ꔮ commentary box: this idea has been clanging in my head for two weeks now, i fear 🐈‍⬛ 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Alex had asked—begged—you not to watch the lie detector test video. 

You agreed, but not without teasing him about divulging some embarrassing secret. You figured it was something along those lines. Maybe they made him choose his favorite cat or reveal his ridiculous pre-race routine. Either way, your boyfriend seemed pretty serious about not wanting you to see that particular piece of content. 

Except it’s been impossible to avoid. 

Your algorithms are unsurprisingly fine-tuned to anything and everything Alex. Clips of his radio messages on Instagram reels, edits of him to Hamilton songs on your TikTok For You page. You’re idly scrolling through your Twitter feed when one particular post catches your attention. 

It’s not even the concept of a reveal that catches your attention. No, that was to be expected. 

What did they mean—Alex asked for it not to be mentioned? 

It’s one thing to keep you from watching. It’s a completely different situation to ask everybody else to stay mum, as if purposefully keeping you out of the loop.

That would make no sense. You try to shake the thought out of your head, try to go back to doom-scrolling, but it nags in the back of your brain. Alex wasn’t the type to hide things from you. The two of you were a secret to the rest of the world, sure, but there were no secrets between you. 

Right? 

You set your phone on Do Not Disturb. You scrub the kitchen clean. You take a scalding hot shower. None of it helps. 

By the time you’re back on your couch, red-faced from the heat of your bath and something else entirely, you make an executive decision. It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, you decide. Alex has given you grace for much worse. 

You pull the video up.

The guilt you’re feeling ebbs at the familiar lilt of Alex’s accent. My heart is gonna be, like, two hundred.

He’s not even on the screen yet, but you can imagine the way his boyish smile would curve around the words. He’s not due to visit until much later, so this six-minute video will have to tide you over the feeling of missing him. And your curiosity. That, more than anything. 

For a moment, you nearly forget why you’re watching. It’s so easy to be distracted by Alex’s sheer expressiveness, by the way he’s always just a bit breathless when he’s laughing. You want nothing more than to reach into your phone and will him to be seated right next to you, alleged reveal be damned. 

Have you ever sat on the toilet so long, your legs fell asleep?, he’s asked, and you simultaneously snort with on-screen Alex. 

Many a times, he answers, and it’s registered as the truth. But it’s more because that’s my time to watch TikTok.

You’re all-too aware of that habit. The petty arguments of you slamming on the bathroom door, demanding for your turn, only for Alex to shout back that he’s finishing part 32 of some movie cut up into several videos, and he’ll be out soon, he swears. It’s the type of domestic image that paints how comfortable the two of you have been this past year, even if there was nobody else to see it. 

Did you have a celebrity crush growing up? 

Yes, on-screen Alex responds. When prodded, he adds rather sheepishly, Erm… Emma Watson. 

You knew that, too. When you first found out, you made Alex sit through the fourth movie so you could tease him relentlessly. Fed up, he had tackled you down onto the mattress during the Triwizard Tournament’s Second Task. The ensuing makeout session had been both heated and playful. A part of you can still feel it thrumming beneath your ribs, months later. 

You’re scheming how to orchestrate another Harry Potter marathon just as two things happen at once. 

First, the Alex on-screen gets asked—baited, more like—with a query of And does your girlfriend compete? 

Then, your front door swings open. The man himself calls out like he always does, “Honey, I’m home!” 

It’s an inside joke, one you can’t really dwell on. Your attention is halved. 

You’ve started out of shock, and your phone is playing on full volume. Just enough for your boyfriend to hear his own sputter of My—my what? from what you’d been watching. 

There’s the sound of something crashing in the entryway. Later, you’ll discover it’s Alex having dropped his duffel bag in his own panic. 

He’s at the mouth of the living room in the next second, but you’re too busy going slack-jawed at the scene in the challenge. The polygraph shoots up. The examiner shakes his head amusedly. The man on the screen fucking laughs, goading Alex, So there it is! You’ve got a girl, Albono?

“You’re watching the video!” Alex shrieks accusingly. 

In return, you screech, “You told everyone about me?!”

Alex darts forward. You mentally curse his racer reflexes and his long legs as he throws himself on top of you. He’s blissfully unaware of his own weight, and so you feel winded amid your attempts to fight back. 

“I didn’t—tell about you,” he argues, his arms flailing as he tries to wrestle your phone out of your hands. “That’s all I said!” 

Which is a damn lie, of course. You don’t even see your screen anymore, but you can hear the video playing out. 

Alex being asked, Would you say this is your soulmate? 

Alex, without missing a beat: Yes. Without a doubt, yes. 

The Alex on top of you groans. He buries his face in the crook of your neck like he might be able to run and hide from his answer, especially as the examiner declares, He’s not lying. 

You relent, hitting pause and casting your phone aside. It lands somewhere by the foot of the couch. “I can’t believe you watched it,” your boyfriend petulantly murmurs against your skin. 

“I can’t believe I’m your soulmate,” you shoot back, and he pinches your side in retaliation. 

“Seriously,” he huffs, adjusting his positioning so that he’s not crushing you too much. “What happened to trust, huh?” 

“Slow down, Gabriella Montez.” 

“Stop being a nerd. It makes me want to kiss you.” 

You’re giggling as Alex rolls off you, flopping to the other end of the couch. He’s all lanky limbs and furrowed brows, his glare fixed on your phone like Sky Sports has personally wronged him. You reach out to rub his ankles, and he instinctively relaxes as if his body is fine-tuned to respond to your touch. 

“I’m sorry for watching the video,” you say. 

Alex frowns. “You’re not sorry.” 

You’re not. 

He heaves out a long-held sigh. “I had to do this whole thing,” he grumbles absent-mindedly. “Hid my Instagram story from you and all that…” 

“You what?” 

“Anyway. Anyway.” Alex clears his throat, his frown curling into a thin pressed line. It’s a rueful kind of grin, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His tick for when he’s guilty. “I was going to tell you.” 

“I bet you were,” you hum. 

You’re not mad. Not really. You know he’s been itching to go public, has wanted you in the Williams hospitality suite for God-knows-how-long. That laminated ID card that would proudly proclaim Guest of Alex Albon.

“They still don’t know you,” he offers. This time, he’s reaching out for you. Preemptively trying to soothe some imagined annoyance. Alex tugs you gently until you’re resting between his legs, his face burying in the back of your hair. 

“All they know is that you exist,” he adds, “and they don’t have to know anything else.” 

You feel a pang in your chest, one put there when you’re reminded of just how lucky you are to have somebody so patient. Someone so willing to set aside his wants for your comfort, your peace of mind. 

“Okay,” you say, voice now softer that Alex has his chin hooked over your shoulder. “It’s alright.” 

“I’m sorry I had a machine hooked up to me and I couldn’t lie.” 

You laugh. “As long as you promise to never lie to me,” you note, nudging his ribs lightly. He lets out an exaggerated howl. 

“I would never,” he grumbles, and you know—you know that’s the truth, too. 

You tilt your head slightly, catching the complicated expression on Alex’s face. There’s that hint of insecurity, that touch of guilt, that flash of impatience. But all of it eases up when you lean in, and you kiss the doubt away. 

“I believe you,” you breathe against his lips, and he’s already smiling before he pulls you in for more. ⛐

BONUS —

[arabe11as]

Studio Sessions

warnings: nothing much just making out xx and fluff xx

Matt had invited you down to the studio while the lads were working on their fourth album, Suck It and See. You’d known them all for a while, but still, you kept to yourself—tucked into a corner, quietly watching as they ran through a few tracks. You didn’t want to get in the way, just happy to be there, soaking it all in.

One by one, the boys packed up their gear and drifted out of the studio, each offering you a casual goodbye—Jamie with a grin and a nod, Matt giving your shoulder a quick squeeze, Nick flashing a tired smile. Soon, it was just you and Alex. He was still behind the glass in the control room, hunched over a notebook, scribbling something with that familiar furrow in his brow. You stood up, slinging your bag over your shoulder, and tapped lightly on the glass to get his attention.

“I’m heading off,” you called through the small crack in the door. But instead of just waving you off, Alex looked up, held your gaze for a second, then jerked his chin in a small motion—beckoning.

“Come here a sec,” he said, voice muffled but clear, and you hesitated only a moment before slipping inside.

You walked over, weaving through stray cables and half-drunk mugs of tea, until you were standing just beside him. Alex barely looked up, still focused on the page in front of him.

“What’s up?” you asked softly.

He tapped the seat next to him. “Sit down.”

You dropped your bag and sank into the office chair. He turned the notebook around so it faced you, his handwriting messy but strangely poetic, and pointed to the title scrawled at the top: She’s Thunderstorms.

“What do you think about this?” he asked, eyes flicking up to meet yours. Then, without waiting for a reply, he started singing—quiet at first, almost to himself, but each word wrapped in that smoky, drawling tone only he could pull off.

You listened, entirely still, letting the melody wash over you. There was something electric in it—raw and a little chaotic, but delicate too.

“I love ‘She came and substituted the peace and quiet’,” you said, smiling as you echoed the line back to him. “That’s such a beautiful kind of disruption.”

He looked pleased—maybe a little proud. “Yeah?” he asked, a grin tugging at his lips. “Thought you might like that one.”

“I don’t know what to add for verse two,” Alex sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. His notebook sat open between you, pages littered with half-formed ideas and scratched-out lines. The studio had gone quiet, save for the low hum of equipment still buzzing in the background, and the occasional scribble of a pen as the two of you threw out ideas.

You leaned in, tapping your finger against the margin. “What if it’s something about how she’s stuck in your head… like, she’s always there, even when you don’t want her to be?”

Alex looked at you, intrigued. “Go on.”

You thought for a moment, then said, “‘She’s been loop-the-looping around my mind.’”

As soon as the words left your mouth, he froze. Then, slowly, a smile broke across his face—one of those rare, quiet ones that meant you’d struck gold.

“That’s brilliant,” he muttered, already jotting it down. “Loop-the-looping… that’s perfect.”

He slotted it seamlessly into the verse, saying it aloud a few times, tasting the rhythm. Then he found it—whatever he’d been chasing in the melody clicked into place, and he strummed a few chords under his breath, the line fitting like it had always belonged there.

Within an hour or two, the song was finished—front to back. You hadn’t planned to stay that long, but time slipped past unnoticed, wrapped up in the flow of ideas, shared glances, and the scribble of pens on paper. The studio lights had dimmed slightly, casting everything in a soft amber glow. Alex leaned back in his chair, reading over the final lyrics of She’s Thunderstorms, mouthing the words like he couldn’t quite believe they’d landed.

You watched him for a moment, chin propped in your hand. “So…” you began, tone laced with mischief, “who is she, then?”

Alex raised a brow. “Who?”

You gestured toward the page. “She’s Thunderstorms. Bit full-on. Sounds like an ex” You leaned in slightly, eyes teasing.

He scoffed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Alex turned to face you fully now, one arm slung over the back of your chair. “And what if it’s not about an ex?” he asked, voice low, deliberate. “What if it’s about someone else?”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Like who?”

He held your gaze, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Dunno. Someone who gets under my skin. Makes it a bit hard to concentrate. Keeps coming back even when I think I’ve written her out.”

Your breath caught slightly, but you managed a smirk. “Sounds like a nightmare. You should stop letting her write songs with you.”

Alex chuckled, eyes drifting briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. “Yeah,” he murmured, “but then I wouldn’t get lines like ‘loop-the-looping.’”

You shook your head, grinning. “Flattery won’t get you out of telling me who the girl really is.”

He leaned in just a little closer. “Maybe I’ll let you figure it out. Might take another song or two, though.”

You leaned back in your chair, still grinning from the teasing. “So… do you have a flow for it yet? Or is that where I come in and save the day again?”

Alex gave you a look—half amused, half mock-offended. “I always have a flow,” he said, reaching for the guitar that had been resting against the amp.

He adjusted it in his lap, fingers settling onto the strings like it was second nature. Then, without another word, he started playing—those first few jangly chords of She’s Thunderstorms, rich and moody, echoing through the empty studio.

The intro rolled out slowly, hypnotic, the rhythm pulling you in. He was focused now, head bowed slightly, hair falling into his face as he played. You recognized the melody immediately—it had that distinct, magnetic pull, the kind that gave you goosebumps even though you’d just helped write it.

You watched him, caught somewhere between admiration and something warmer, softer.

“Holy shit, Al, that sounds amazing,” you breathed, a wide smile breaking across your face.

He looked up from the strings, surprised but clearly pleased. “Really?”

“Yes, you idiot,” you laughed, nudging his knee with yours.

He chuckled, head ducking a little like he was trying not to let the compliment go to his head.

“Is guitar hard?” you asked, tilting your head at the instrument still cradled in his hands.

He gave a small shrug. “Hmm… depends. It’s a bit of a bastard at first, but you get used to it.”

You leaned in, eyes curious. “Can you show me?”

A slow smile crept across his face, the kind that made your stomach flutter. “Go on then,” he said, nodding. He carefully handed you the guitar, his fingers brushing yours as he did.

You tried to hold it properly, but it felt awkward and oversized in your lap. “I don’t even know how to hold it,” you muttered, adjusting it clumsily.

Alex stood, circling behind you, and before you could ask what he was doing, you felt him—warm and close at your back. His chest almost brushed your shoulders as he leaned down, arms sliding around you.

“Right, let me…” His voice was low, the Sheffield lilt thicker this close. He reached for your hands, gently repositioning your fingers on the frets. “You want your thumb here, yeah? Then these three go across like that.”

You swallowed, nodding, though you barely heard a word he said. His breath grazed your neck as he spoke, and you could feel the heat of him pressed against your back, steady and intoxicating.

“Like this?” you asked, glancing back at him slightly, your cheek nearly brushing his.

“Nearly,” he murmured, lips hovering a little too close to your ear. “You’re tense.”

“Maybe ‘cause someone’s breathing down my neck,” you teased, pulse picking up.

He laughed, the sound low and rich. “What, this?” he said, blowing a gentle puff of air just under your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

You turned your head, your noses almost touching now. “You’re such a dick,” you whispered, grinning.

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes flicking between yours and your lips. “But you love it.”

The guitar rested forgotten in your lap, your fingers still frozen in place—his hands lingering a second longer than necessary. The air between you felt electric, charged with something that hadn’t quite tipped over the edge… yet.

Alex’s hands guided yours again, this time moving your fingers into a simple chord shape. His touch was light but deliberate, and the closeness of him made it impossible to focus on anything except the rhythm of your breathing.

“Alright,” he murmured, “press down there—yeah, just like that. Now strum it.”

You did as he said, the sound that came out surprisingly clean. You looked up at him in disbelief.

He grinned, eyes gleaming with approval. “There you go. Good girl.”

You paused, blinking. Then slowly turned your head to look up at him over your shoulder, a coy smile forming on your lips. “Really?” you giggled, raising a brow.

He pulled back just slightly, that smirk never leaving his face. “What? I’m just giving you a compliment.”

“Mmm,” you hummed playfully, twisting around more fully to face him. “Bit of a loaded compliment, that.”

“Only if you want it to be,” he said, eyes flicking to your mouth again.

For a beat, neither of you said anything. The air between you was thick, humming with unspoken tension, and the grin slowly faded from both your faces—replaced with something softer, heavier.

You turned toward him, knees brushing as you shifted in your seat, the guitar slipping slightly off your lap. His hands stayed at your sides, not quite touching, as if waiting for permission.

“I do want it to be,” you said quietly.

That was all it took.

Alex leaned in, closing the last inch between you, and kissed you—slow and warm, but confident, like he’d been thinking about it for a long time. His hand slid gently up the side of your neck, fingers curling into your hair, and you kissed him back without hesitation.

You stood up, lips still locked with his, barely breaking the kiss as you bent down blindly and moved the guitar out of the way, setting it gently beside the chair. Alex’s hands found your waist the moment you were upright again, tugging you closer until there was no space left between you.

His mouth trailed briefly from your lips to the edge of your jaw, then back again, like he couldn’t get enough. You let out a soft laugh against him, fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him deeper.

Then, in one smooth, impulsive motion, he spun you slightly and walked you backwards until your lower back bumped against the edge of a table cluttered with notebooks and stray picks.

“Up,” he said, voice low and breathless.

You barely had time to smirk before he gripped your hips and lifted you onto it, pushing aside the scattered papers with a careless sweep of his arm. His mouth was back on yours before you could say a word, hot and urgent now, his hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to grip the bare skin at your waist.

You wrapped your legs loosely around him, tugging him closer as he pressed himself against you, the tension that had been building between you both finally snapping loose.

His lips were everywhere—trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, teeth grazing your skin just enough to make your breath hitch. You felt him pressed hard against you, the table creaking slightly beneath your weight as his hands roamed up under your shirt, fingertips teasing your bare waist.

“Fuck, Alex,” you exhaled, your head falling back slightly as a soft moan slipped out.

“If I could,” he murmured against your throat, voice rough and dripping with want, “I’d have you right here.”

Your heart pounded as he kissed you again and again, every touch lighting you up. “Then have me,” you breathed, eyes half-lidded, your hands already tugging at the hem of his shirt.

But before he could make a move—before he could even lift your top—

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, guys!”

The voice cut through the haze like a brick through glass. You both froze.

Your head whipped around just in time to see Matt standing in the doorway, holding a forgotten jacket and looking thoroughly appalled. “This is a studio, not a bloody shag pad!”

You jumped down from the table like it had burned you, cheeks flushed, hastily adjusting your shirt. Alex stepped back, rubbing a hand over his face, trying and failing to hide a smirk.

“Christ, Matt, do you knock?” he muttered.

“It’s my studio too, you tosser!” Matt fired back, eyes wide with disbelief. “I was coming back for my jacket, not a live porno.”

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing, even through the embarrassment. Alex grinned at you, then shot Matt a lazy look.

“Well,” he said, shrugging as he picked up his guitar from the floor, “guess we’ll save the encore for another time.”

Matt groaned. “I need a bleach bath for my eyes.”

You looked at Alex, still catching your breath, still flushed and a little dazed. He leaned in close, voice low in your ear.

“next time”

[liebgirl]

to be fair o haven’t given him much opportunity but alex is not helping in the falling asleep war. why is my body incapable of fucking relaxing. i physically cannot un-tense myself rn and frankly it’s making me wish i was just dead. and if i don’t sleep now then i’ll get tired at work and come home and nap at 6pm. which will only make me not tired again when actual nighttime comes around and i won’t sleep AGAIN. like ok do i just kill my self or what

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Nine

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, strong language, complex family dynamics, ableism.

Notes — This chapter has given me SUCH a hard time. Please enjoy it, I feel like I put my entire soul into it. Also… Fernando’s return is announced in the next chapter (everyone cheer).

Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! — Peach x

2020

Silverstone came around in the blink of an eye.

Amelia sat perched on the edge of the engineering desk, her legs swinging absently, trainers knocking gently against the metal drawer units below. Her gaze swept across Alex’s side of the garage, quick, focused, restless. She wasn’t here to be social. She was here to figure something out.

Something wasn’t right.

She’d been quietly monitoring it since Austria; since testing in Barcelona, even. The data, the footage, the telemetry. There were too many inconsistencies between Max’s car and Alex’s. And sure, she understood the baseline logic. Max was Max. His driving style demanded everything from the car and then some. His feedback loop with the team was honed to a science. But even so, there shouldn’t be this much of a disparity.

Not in identical machinery.

Not at this level.

Her brows pinched, eyes narrowing at the readout on the nearest screen. She hated the term “second driver” with a passion. It grated against every instinct she had. But watching Alex’s side of the garage felt like watching a different team operate altogether. Different priorities. Different urgency. It wasn’t malicious. Not outright. But it was subtle. It was systemic. And it was stupid.

A puff of frustration escaped her nose. She’d already brought up some of her theories to Adrian, offhanded and careful, like she was floating curiosities instead of suspicions. He hadn’t disagreed. Hadn’t confirmed anything either. But she could see it — how he was watching now, too.

Still, it was driving her crazy.

The way Max’s floor and rear suspension packages were being iterated on faster. The microscopic setup tweaks that were tailored to his style but never translated for Alex. The way team radio responses came faster, the tone of them just slightly more reactive. She could hear the difference because she listened for it. 

It wasn’t cheating. But it wasn’t fair either.

And it was messy. Amelia didn’t like messy.

A burst of compressed air hissed across the garage as a mechanic adjusted Alex’s front wing, and Amelia’s head jerked toward it instinctively, eyes narrowing again. Her fingers twitched against her tablet, the internal debate warring louder than the buzz of the pit crew.

She lifted her ear defenders from around her neck and settled them over her ears. All of the noise softened to a low hum.

She glanced over her shoulder and spotted Max on the far side of the pit lane, deep in conversation with Christian by the pit wall. Calm and focused. He always looked like that before qualifying. Grounded. Unshakable.

Alex, by contrast, looked tense. He stood near his engineer, shoulders drawn tight, brows pinched as he nodded along, but his eyes kept flicking to the floor. Amelia watched for a beat longer, her heart tugging faintly. She wanted to fix it, whatever it was, but there was only so much she could do.

She looked down at her trainers.

They were her usual white ones, a little scuffed from the garage floors, but dependable. Comfortable. Familiar. But now, right at the edge of the left sole, something new: a messy swipe of orange marker.

LN4.

Her chest did something funny when she saw it.

Lando had crashed in her hotel room again, something that had quietly become routine. He always had his own room, but more often than not, he ended up in her bed instead of his. She didn’t mind. Would never say a word about it.

He was a good hugger now. He’d figured it out, finally, exactly how she liked to be held. Firm and tight enough to feel anchored. He’d taken to wrapping around her like a human shield, heartbeat steady, breath soft against the back of her neck. She hadn’t slept so consistently well in years.

He was usually gone before she woke up.

That morning had been no different. She’d blinked awake to an empty bed, the faint smell of his cologne still clinging to the hotel bedsheets. But when she’d gone to pull her trainers on, there it was; bright orange ink catching her eye.

Initials. A number. A quiet claim.

She didn’t know whether to roll her eyes or smile.

So she did both.

— 

The McLaren garage had its usual pre-quali buzz. Max Fewtrell leaned against the back wall, wearing a team guest lanyard and a vaguely amused expression as he watched Lando loll around in his race suit. 

“Alright, you’re being weirdly calm,” Max said, eyeing him. “You’re never this chill before quali. What is this? Zen Norris?”

Lando didn’t even look up from the banana he was unwrapping. “Just had a good night’s sleep, mate.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh. Let me guess. In someone else’s hotel room?”

Lando gave him a slow, infuriating grin, then shrugged. “Maybe.”

Max stared at him. “No. Oh fucking hell. You’re not…?”

Lando just bit into the banana.

“You are,” Max said, half-laughing. “You’re back with her?”

Lando shrugged. “I wouldn’t say ‘back with’ like that, since we were never together in the first place, but yeah. We’re...talking.”

“Right,” Max said, drawing the word out. “Talking. In her bed. At night. Sounds familiar.”

Lando shot him a look. “Don’t start, mate. I’m still pissed at you for telling me to bin her off in the first place. Worst mistake of my life.”

“I stand by what I said then,” Max said, folding his arms. “And now she works for Red Bull. The actual enemy. She's probably hardwiring your secrets into Verstappen’s car while you’re asleep.” He said, eyes narrowed. 

Lando rolled his eyes. “She literally tells me nothing technical. I tried a few weeks ago, asked her what they changed on the rear wing. She said ‘carbon things’ and then threw a tortilla at my face.”

Max laughed. “Okay, yeah, that’s… okay, that’s funny.”

Lando looked a little too smug. “Exactly. Mate, I know what I’m doing. She’s worth it, you know? Just wish I’d realised it sooner.”

“Oh, you definitely don’t know what you’re doing,” Max scoffed. “You’re back in your feels, acting like it’s not completely mad that your maybe-girlfriend works for a team that would pay to see you finish outside the points every Sunday.”

“She’s not just some Red Bull lackey,” Lando said sharply, shoulders tensing. “She’s Amelia. She’s a fucking genius, Max. That car? It’s hers as much as it is Max’s or Alex’s.”

Max gave him a dry look. “You do realise how insane you sound?”

“I don’t care,” Lando said, straightening. “She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. Yeah, I screwed it up before. But I’m not walking away from her again. Not ever.”

Max blinked. “Bit dramatic, mate.”

“Whatever,” Lando said, smirking. “You’re just bitter because I’ve a hot, genius in my bed and you’ve got a Twitch stream and a meal deal.”

“I brought you that Pret,” Max muttered.

“And I’m grateful,” Lando said, clapping him on the shoulder like a smug little shit. “But I’m also head over fucking heels, mate. So.”

Max groaned. “Jesus Christ. You’re unbearable.”

“Yup.” Lando tossed his banana peel perfectly into the bin. “Get used to it.”

Across the garage, an engineer called Lando over for a final briefing. As he jogged off, Max shook his head. “Mad bastard,” he muttered. “Completely lost the plot.”

— 

Amelia sat cross-legged on the floor of the Red Bull garage, the harsh overhead lights casting stark shadows across the slick concrete. Her tablet rested beside her, darkened screen still smudged with notes and numbers from the race. Her yellow golf ball rolled slowly between her hands, back and forth, back and forth; rhythmic and grounding.

Silverstone had always felt like a second home. Growing up watching races here, dreaming about being a part of it. Now she was properly in it. Deep in the heart of Red Bull Racing, elbows-deep in data, decisions, and disappointment.

Max had salvaged something, as he always did. P2 wasn’t nothing. But the numbers didn’t lie. Mercedes were still faster, smoother, untouchable on the straights. And the tire degradation? She closed her eyes, jaw clenching slightly. It didn’t make sense. 

She could feel the quiet frustration that had hung over the garage all weekend. Engineers working longer hours. Adrian pacing more. Alex struggling to connect the car to the track. And her, Amelia, trying to play translator between machine and man, and still somehow coming up short.

Her fingers tightened painfully around the golf ball.

It wasn’t failure, not really. But it wasn’t a win either. And that unsettled something in her. She wanted better. She wanted cleaner gains. More decisive margins. Less almost and more perfect.

Her thoughts drifted to Max, to the way he’d found her after the debrief and muttered, “We’ll get them next week,” like it was a promise more than reassurance.

She dropped her head, staring at the tablet, teeth digging into the inside of her cheek. There had to be something.

And then—

It hit her like a flash.

She blinked, straightened, then scrambled to unlock the screen, fingers flying. Rear aero wake management. Micro-channel re-shaping on the rear floor edge. She muttered to herself as she typed. “Shift the outer wake—no, no, narrow it, and bleed the turbulence—”

Her heart kicked up. Her breath got shallow. The pressure in her chest gave way to something electric. Her hands fluttered before she even realised, wrists snapping, fingers stimming with giddy, instinctive rhythm as the idea built in her head. She scribbled on the screen with her stylus like it was oxygen. She was grinning, properly grinning.

She barely registered the noise of the paddock returning to life behind her.

A Sky Sports camera had swung past, catching a glimpse of her in the garage, tucked between tool cabinets and telemetry units, flapping hands and bright yellow golf ball balanced in her lap. The presenter spoke softly over the shot. “And there’s Amelia Brown. A quiet presence in the paddock so far, but proving to be a very hard worker indeed.”

In the Red Bull hospitality suite, Christian Horner glanced up at the screen, watching the feed with his usual half-interested expression. “Ah, there she is. Our shining example of disability-positive hiring.” It was offhand. Meant as a joke, maybe. But it hung awkward in the air.

Adrian didn’t laugh.

He turned his head slowly toward Christian, expression unreadable. “She’s the most promising technical mind I’ve worked with in a decade. And she is working with me on merit alone.” He said mildly, eyes still on the screen.

Christian blinked. “Right. Of course.”

Adrian sipped his tea. Said nothing more. But when he looked back to the TV, his gaze was thoughtful.

And in the garage, Amelia kept working, entirely unaware of the camera, the commentary, or the conversation she’d just ignited. Her mind was moving too fast now to care about anything else.

She’d found something. Something big.

And she couldn’t wait to show Adrian.

— 

Max found her sitting alone on the pit wall. 

She had her yellow golf ball in one hand, thumb rolling over its surface absently. The other held her tablet, still filled with drawings and annotations, now marked with scribbled arrows and half-formed formulas.

Max climbed up next to her with the casual ease of someone who did it a hundred times a year. “You solved the issue,” he said, legs dangling over the edge.

Amelia blinked, as if pulled out of her own thoughts. “It’s not solved,” she said automatically. “It’s a direction.”

“A good one,” Max replied. “Adrian was very happy when you showed him. I saw it on his face.”

She smiled at that, a flicker of pride showing before she quickly tucked it away. One hand rolled the golf ball. The other hand jolted, maybe spurred on by a burst of excitement. She didn’t notice she was doing it.

Max did.

He watched it for a moment, then leaned back on his hands. “You were doing that earlier. With your hands. They showed it on the live feed.”

She froze, just for a second.

Max didn’t sound judgmental. Just curious. But still, something knotted tight in her chest. The instinct came fast, automatic; hide it, clench her fists, smooth out the edges. Pretend it hadn’t happened. Pretend she was just like everyone else.

But then she remembered what Adrian had told her, calm and firm that day in the design office, looking at her without even a flicker of doubt.

Why should you ever have to hide the manifestations of your greatness?

So, instead of retreating, she let her hands speak the language her brain needed. 

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “It’s called a stim.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “A what?”

“A… like, a repetitive movement. Helps regulate my focus. Or calm me down. Or… sometimes just helps me think,” she said, gesturing with the ball. “Ah, my hands flap on their own. And the golf ball’s got the right weight. Tactile enough to keep my hands busy while my brain does its thing. Means something to me.”

Max nodded slowly, eyes on the horizon. “You always do it when you're excited about something?”

“Sometimes. Or anxious. Or overstimulated.” She shrugged. “I mask a lot. Most people don’t notice the physical stuff. But the ball helps. I notice that I swing or bounce my leg a lot, too, but people don’t notice that as much.” 

He was quiet for a long moment. “So, it’s part of the autism?”

She turned her head toward him, eyes narrowing. Not angry, just curious. “You saw my Twitter?” She was very open about her diagnosis there, sharing informational and up-to-date medical journals. 

“I read part of your interview with RaceTech Weekly,” he admitted. “You said it’s not something you hide, but not something you announce either.”

“Yeah, well…” she exhaled. “Some people get weird. Or patronising. Or make jokes.”

“Christian,” Max said knowingly, a darker tone in his voice.

Amelia smiled, a bit twisted. “Adrian is nice about it, though.”

“Good.” Max looked at her again. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed.”

She stared at him. “I’m not—” And then paused. “Okay. I am. A little. But I’m trying not to be.”

Max just gave a half-nod, like that was fair enough. “You don’t need to explain it to me,” he said, kicking his foot gently out into the air. “I just wanted to know what it was. You looked happy.”

She blinked. “I was.”

He nodded again. “Good.”

Eventually, she bumped her shoulder against his. It was barely more than a nudge, but for Amelia, it was a big deal; intentional, physical contact she initiated. She didn’t do that often. Almost never. “Thanks for not being a dick about it,” she told him.

Max smirked, eyes flicking down to where their shoulders had touched before he leaned back. “Don’t thank me yet. Wait until I start asking to borrow the comfort golf ball during strategy meetings.”

“You’d lose it.” She sighed. 

“You’ll forgive me.” 

Amelia stared at him, dead serious. “No I wouldn’t.” 

—

It was late. Too late for anyone still at McLaren HQ except security and cleaning staff. 

Tracy stood across from him, arms folded, gaze cool and steady. She didn’t come to Woking often anymore, but something in Zak’s voice when he’d asked her to come by tonight had stopped her from saying no.

“You’re not sleeping,” Tracy said after a long beat. “You hardly even come home anymore.”

Zak rubbed both hands over his face, voice low. “I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“Good,” she replied, sharp but not cruel. “She should be at the front of your mind. Just like she’s always at the front of mine.”

Zak let out a bitter laugh and leaned forward, elbows on his desk, head bowed. “It’s been five months, Trace. Five months of silence. She won’t reply to my texts. Doesn’t even open my emails. I tried to speak to her at Silverstone and she looked straight through me. Like I wasn’t even there.”

Tracy sighed and lowered herself into the seat across from him, her expression tight. “You didn’t lose her because of one bad conversation, Zak. You lost her because you took something from her; something you had no right to. You tried to control what wasn’t yours.”

He looked at her, pain written into the lines of his face.

“She could’ve sued you,” Tracy continued, quieter now but no less firm. “Do you even understand that? Millions, Zak. She would never do it, of course, because she’s still loyal, still stupidly kind when it comes to you, but that doesn’t make what you did any less wrong. You treated her brilliance like a family asset. Like it belonged to you because she’s your daughter.”Her voice cracked, not with emotion, but fury. “That’s not how this works. That’s not how she works.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Zak said hoarsely. “I didn’t realise—Christ, Trace.”

“You were blind to it,” Tracy said, her voice steady but cutting. “Everything she was doing to elevate that team; improving car performance, supporting the drivers, stabilising Lando’s garage dynamic. She wasn’t just useful, Zak. She was essential. And now you’ve lost her to Red Bull.”

Zak sneered, bitter. “God. I just—why them? I would’ve understood Mercedes, maybe. Even Ferrari.”

Tracy didn’t flinch. “She’s built her own space in that garage already. They obviously respect her there. She’s on her way to helping Max Verstappen fight for his first world title. She’s not just surviving, Zak. She’s thriving.”

“I know that,” Zak said, his voice small, still dark and bitter. “I’ve watched. I’ve seen the press. Adrian Newey can’t stop signing her praises. But, Trace, I wasn’t even proud. I was angry.” He paused. “I didn’t understand it. I don’t even recognise her anymore.”

Tracy sighed. “She spent years trying to get you to see her. Always trying to fit herself into a box, hoping that maybe things would finally change and you’d suddenly realise what was standing right in-front of you.” 

Zak looked down. His hands were clenched together, knuckles pale. “I miss her so much,” he whispered. “I miss her laugh. Her rants. Even that awful yellow water bottle.”

Tracy pursed her lips. “The water bottle is gone. She has a golf ball now. Still yellow.” 

He looked up at her quickly. “A golf ball?”

Tracy smiled sadly. Shrugged. “Probably from her and Lando’s first date. I’ve never asked, but…” 

Zak blinked. “He… They went on a date? He managed to get her to go to a golf course?” 

Tracy nodded. 

Zak closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to pull himself together. “I just want a chance. One chance to tell her that I was wrong. That I see her now. That I’m proud of her. That I—”

Tracy leaned forward, her voice gentle but firm. “You have to let her come to you. Not the other way around. When has she ever responded well to being chased, hm?”

Zak blinked, fighting back the sting in his eyes. “Do you think she ever will, though? Come to me?”

Tracy stood, brushing a hand over his shoulder as she walked past. “She’s her father’s daughter. Stubborn. But eventually, something will happen, and your name will be the first one on her mind. Just… be patient. And come home, Zak. You need a shower.”

He watched her walk out, the soft click of her heels echoing in the stillness of the room. Then he turned back toward the window, staring out over the empty car bays and spotless garage beyond. The place that, in so many ways, had become his refuge; and his prison.

He could be patient. He could.

He stood up, grabbed his jacket, and followed her out. 

— 

iMessage — 20:03pm

Amelia I think we should go on a date.

Lando Norris No, no, no. Babe, no. I’m supposed to be the one to ask you on a date, not the other way around.

Amelia Why? You haven’t asked. I want to go on a date with you, so I asked.

Lando Norris Ok. I’m still paying. Doesn’t matter if you asked or not. I’ll plan it too.

Amelia Of course you are paying. Women don’t pay on dates.

Lando Norris Some ppl think they should 

Amelia Oh. Should I bring money then? 

Lando Norris No babe. Never.

Amelia :)

— 

He’d hired out an entire restaurant.

Fully staffed. Every table other than theirs empty.

It was insane. Completely over the top.

And yet, she couldn’t help but feel… warm about it.

Amelia ran her fingers along the smooth edge of her wine glass, her gaze drifting out the window as the sky darkened into soft shades of twilight. Normally, a full restaurant would have her on edge; the constant hum of conversations, the clatter of plates, the shuffle of waiters, the occasional laughter ringing too loudly in her ears. It always felt like too much. Too many sensory inputs, all at once.

Tonight, it was just them.

She glanced across the table at Lando, who was looking at her with that mischievous, bright-eyed expression. But there was something softer there too. A warmth, a genuine care she had come to expect from him.

"This is much better than golf," she said, trying to ease the tightness she felt in her chest. Her fingers tightened slightly around her wine glass, a small manifestation of her nerves. 

Lando stared at her for a moment, then laughed; a loud, free sound that made her heart skip a beat. "Yeah? I’m sorry I dragged you there. I won’t ever do it again, I promise." He had that usual teasing grin on his face, but there was softness in the way his eyes lingered on her.

Amelia shifted in her seat, glancing down at the menu in front of her. There were so many choices, so many different things to try, and the overwhelming amount of options made her stomach twist. Her mind started to race, analysing every single dish on the list, the flavours, the textures. Would they be too spicy? Too sweet? Would she like them or regret the choice? It felt like too much.

"I like the beach," she muttered, trying to shift focus. "And I like boats." But her thoughts kept circling back to the food. The choices were suffocating.

Lando seemed to notice the change in her, the tension creeping into her shoulders. "Boats, huh? So you don’t get sea sickness, then?” he teased, leaning forward a little, trying to pull her out of her head.

Amelia nodded absentmindedly, her mind still too loud. “Boats are just… private. Calm.“

He paused, studying her for a moment, before his voice softened. “If the options are too much, we don’t have to pick anything just yet. You’re here with me, we can go slow. The restaurant is ours until midnight. No pressure.”

She sucked in a breath. “I— I’m sorry,” she said quickly, her voice small. “I’ve never been here before. It’s nice, I just... I don’t know what I’ll like.”

Lando reached across the table, taking her hand and giving it a firm squeeze. “Well, after the amount of room service we’ve eaten recently, I think know what you like, and what you don’t. Want me to just order for you?”

Amelia blinked, startled by his offer. “What?”

He looked at her for a moment, his gaze softening. Then, without warning, he stood and walked around the table. Before she could react, he pulled her chair back, coaxing her to her feet. He guided her back to his side and gently settled her onto his lap. His left arm wrapped around her waist, secure but not too tight, pulling her closer. Amelia felt the tension drain from her body as she sank into him, her back resting against his chest.

“We can share, yeah? I’ll pick a few things, and we can try them together,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

Amelia hesitated, her voice barely a whisper. “They’ll stare.”

She could feel her cheeks warming, the faint pressure of being so close to him in a public space, even if the restaurant was empty. But despite her discomfort, she didn’t want to move. His arm around her felt right, comforting in a way she hadn’t expected. It was perfect.

Lando rolled his eyes, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Let them.” 

NEXT CHAPTER

[sombaf]

Just One Drink (Before I Fall For You)

Kara had spent three days sulking in her apartment, replaying the fire over and over in her mind. She saved everyone—every single teacher, every single child. But not him. Not the firefighter who had stayed back, trying to make sure no one was left behind. She had almost had him. Almost.

Alex had finally lost patience.

“You’re coming with us tonight,” she had said, standing in Kara’s doorway with that no-nonsense big-sister stance.

Kara had tried to argue. “Alex, I—”

“No. No ‘but I’s. No excuses. You need to get out of this apartment before you start merging with your couch.”

Kara had sighed, rubbing at her temple. “It’s a lesbian bar, Alex. I’d stick out.”

Alex had smirked. “It’s not like there’s a gay dress code, Kara. Besides, the bar isn’t just for lesbians. It’s just… mostly lesbians, and other queer people.”

Kara groaned, already feeling the battle slipping away. “Alex, I’m really not in the mood to go out. And I’m straight and super boring.”

Alex smirked. “Perfect. That means there’s no pressure—just a good time, no expectations.”

Kara exhaled, long and dramatic, but she knew further resistance was pointless. “One drink. That’s it. Then I’m going home.”

Alex grinned, looping an arm around her shoulders. “Sure, sure. One drink.”

And that was how Kara had ended up here, watching as Alex and Kelly were welcomed with open arms, showered in hugs, and handed drinks before they even reached the bar.

Kara had to admit, the warmth of it all made something settle in her chest. Alex had always been so guarded, always the tough one. And yet here, she had people who loved her for who she was, people who got her.

Kara hadn’t even been sitting before the teasing had started.

“Oh, Alex, you never mentioned your little sister is such a gorgeous specimen,” one of Alex’s friends had drawled, smirking at Kara over the rim of her beer.

“Such a shame you’re straight, darling,” another sighed dramatically before taking a slow sip of their cocktail.

Kara had rolled her eyes and laughed, her protests drowned out by the cheerful music and the clink of glasses.

She had been hit on a few times again after that, all in good fun, but it was never serious. And honestly? It was kind of nice to just be here, no expectations, no pressure, just people having a good time.

The party was already in full swing, laughter spilling from every corner of the bar. Alex and Kelly were somewhere near the pool table, surrounded by friends, and Kara was comfortably settled at the bar, nursing a beer. It wasn’t like she was waiting for someone.

And yet—

When she walked in, it was like someone had turned down the volume on everything else.

She wasn’t loud. She didn’t make a scene. But somehow, the moment she entered, people noticed.

Kara noticed.

She wasn’t even sure sure why.

Maybe it was the way the dark green jumpsuit hugged her frame in all the right places, or the way the sharp, thin Louboutin heels made her legs look endless. Maybe it was the way she moved through the room—smooth, effortless, knowing exactly how much space she took up and exactly how to command attention.

Or maybe it was the way her lips curled, painted deep red like something dangerous, when she laughed at something someone said.

She wasn’t in a hurry. She took her time, greeting people as she passed, her smile easy but never careless. Calculated, almost—like she knew exactly the effect she had and wielded it effortlessly.

Kara swallowed.

She wasn’t even drinking alien alcohol, and yet suddenly, she felt a little dizzy.

The woman finally reached the bar, lingering only a moment to scan the options before slipping onto one of the free barstools.

The one right next to Kara.

Kara straightened instinctively, shifting in her seat as she tried very hard to look at something—anything—other than the graceful way the woman crossed her legs, or the way her jumpsuit dipped just slightly at the neckline, revealing smooth skin and the soft, tempting curve where bare met fabric.

The bartender didn’t even ask.

“Usual?” they said, already reaching for something behind a hidden cabinet.

The woman hummed her approval, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against the bar. “You always remember.”

The bartender smiled as they pulled out the bottle, a top-shelf whiskey Kara hadn’t seen them offer to anyone else. “Hard to forget.”

That earned a quiet chuckle. The bartender poured a glass of rich amber liquid and slid it across to her, no questions, no hesitation.

Kara watched as she took the glass, her fingers delicate against the crystal.

Only then did she turn, facing Kara fully for the first time, and—God.

Piercing green eyes. Sharp, clear, intentional in the way they held Kara’s gaze.

A flicker of heat curled in Kara’s stomach, unexpected and unsettling.

And then, without meaning to, she heard it.

The slow, steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

Kara tried to ignore it—she never focused on things like that, not in casual interactions—but for some reason, it stood out. Unhurried, unshaken. As if the brunette never let anything rattle her.

The woman smirked, tilting her glass slightly before bringing it to her lips. “So,” she mused, her voice rich and smooth, “are we the only two sober ones left?”

Kara blinked, taking a second longer than she should have to respond.

“Oh—uh, yeah. Looks like it.”

The woman’s lips twitched, eyes still on her. “Lucky me.”

Kara let out a soft breath of laughter, shifting in her seat, but her fingers tightened around her glass. Her grip could shatter it if she weren’t careful. “Yeah, well. Alcohol doesn’t really do much for me.”

That arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “That so?”

Kara nodded, forcing herself to look away, but it didn’t help. Her own pulse had picked up, and her senses—usually so easy to tune out—were suddenly locked onto her.

The faintest rustle of fabric as the woman shifted against the barstool. The warmth of her skin radiating in the small space between them. And her scent—God, her scent.

Kara had smelled thousands of scents before, cataloged them all in the back of her mind. But this one—warm and deep, something dark and spiced with a hint of vanilla—wrapped around her like a slow burn. It was intoxicating in a way nothing had ever been before.

She swallowed.

“Alien biology,” she added, clearing her throat.

Most people reacted when she said that. Usually, there was at least a blink of surprise, a brief hesitation.

The woman didn’t even flinch.

Instead, she leaned in slightly, just enough that Kara caught the soft exhale of her breath, the faintest shift in her heartbeat—just a little faster now, like she was aware of the space between them.

And then Kara saw it—so brief she might have missed it if she hadn’t been paying attention.

The woman’s pupils dilated, just a fraction, just for a second.

Her eyes flicked over Kara’s face, assessing, considering.

“Convenient,” she murmured.

Kara exhaled a quiet laugh, though it came out softer than she intended. Something about the way she said it—low and knowing—sent a shiver down her spine. “For some things.”

The woman took another slow sip of her drink, eyes lingering for just a second too long before she finally extended a hand.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, voice like honey and smoke. “I’m Lena.”

Kara stared at the hand for half a second longer than necessary before shaking it.

The touch was steady, deliberate. Lena’s fingers were cool at first, but the heat between them rose fast, burning through Kara like a wildfire.

She almost pulled away too quickly but stopped herself at the last second.

“Kara,” she said, a little breathless.

Lena’s fingers curled slightly before she let go, as if dragging out the moment just a little longer.

And for a second, Kara swore she heard it—Lena’s heartbeat stuttering, just the faintest skip, so fleeting she wasn’t sure if it had happened at all.

“Kara,” Lena repeated then, red lips curling slightly.

And maybe it was the way she said it, slow and smooth, like she was testing how Kara’s name would sound on her tongue later.

Maybe it was the whiskey-warm rasp in her voice, or the way those sparkling eyes lingered, just long enough to make Kara wonder if she was imagining things.

Or maybe it was the way Kara’s senses—so sharp, so attuned—had locked onto her without permission, as if her own body had already decided something she wasn’t ready to admit.

But suddenly, straight felt like a label that didn’t quite fit the way it used to.

Full story here😉

[bellarkeselection]

Best Solution to a Headache

Y/n and Cole are best friends and dating. Y/n always gets migraines but this time the reader is in so much pain where she’s just being clingy and cuddly to Cole

Walking through the school hallway I tried to not bump into too many people since it would only make the pain in my head feel worse. My backpack was hanging over one shoulder when I bumped into somebody at the same time a sharp pain rang through head. “Hey, watch it.” The kid snapped at me where we tripped onto the tile ground.

I scramble to my feet trying to grab my stuff right before I caught sight of a familiar wave of blonde hair coming through the crowd. “Hey chill out man. It was an accident. Y/n, you okay?” He asked me offering me his hand helping me to my feet.

“Thanks Cole…ohh!” I winced covering my forehead with my free hand closing my eyes briefly.

His eyes focused on mine. “Here let’s get you somewhere else. So what’s wrong with your head. Is it the migraines again?” He draped his arm over my shoulder holding me close while we moved through the crowd and found an empty staircase sitting down on the steps.

“Yeah…it feels like my head is splitting so bad.” I groaned laying my head on his chest with his arm still draped over my shoulder.

Cole whispers running his fingers through my hair knowing that sometimes helps the migraine go away or not be as painful for me. “I’m sorry, baby.” Cole and I had just recently started dating each other a few months ago. But before that we have been best friends our whole lives. Erin was picking on me saying one day that she didn’t understand what Cole saw in me as a friend. He didn’t like hearing that and that moment he realized he didn’t want anyone else but you in his life.

“I just want to crawl up with you. The pain hasn’t ever been this bad and my medication isn’t helping very much.” I moaned shifting my body so my head was laying in his lap and he kept running his fingers through my hair.

He didn’t like that you felt this way and he couldn’t really do anything about it since you were at school. He had some of your medicine at his house. I had told him about my migraine when they started happening when we were in our first year of middle school. I got them from my mother since she occasionally got them too. “How about we get out of here and I take you home for the day?”

“You mean skip school. Cole, I can’t miss English we have a paper due in a few weeks.” I tried to explain covering my eyes with my hands feeling some more pain come when I attempted to sit upright.

He shakes his head making his blonde hair fall in front of his eyes. “I don’t care about that. Besides you don’t look like you are in any position to go sit through anymore classes. We are going home.”

“What about your siblings and Jackie. They’ll need a ride home.” I questioned him slowly sitting up when he got to his feet.

He tugs me up to stand with him. “I’ll tex Alex that I might be late picking them up.”

“If you say so, Cole.” I replied looping my hand through his and together we slowly walked out of the school backdoor to his truck. We drove to my house and I used my key since my parents were at work and wouldn’t be home until like five tonight.

Shutting the door gently I winced just wanting to lay down. I stumbled to the couch grabbing a blanket and just covering myself with it. Cole dropped our bags at the door grabbing some pain meds from the bathroom cabinet before coming to sit with me. “Are you feeling better now?” He asked softly once I take the medicine with some water.

“Yes much better…” I trailed off snuggling into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around my waist after getting underneath the cover.

Cole smiled laying his head on top of my head just holding me in silence for a minute. He wouldn’t ever say it out loud to others but he couldn’t imagine you not being in his life. “That’s good. I’m glad you agreed with my idea.”

“Cause otherwise you’d be worried about me all day but never show it on your face.” I responded lifting my head slightly so I could stare into his bright green eyes.

He leans down kissing my forehead when I lay my head back down in the crook of his neck falling asleep. “You’re darn right, darling.” He closes his eyes falling asleep with you cuddled up in his arms.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

Tag list- send me an ask to be added @cognacdelights @connieisthesun @bbabycass

[ckret2]

I cannot wait to hear your thoughts on the poem about Euclydia/Bill's origins that Alex revealed at the end of the livestream! I immediately thought of your fic while reading it.

had to go dig up the poem so i'm including a link

it's basically what we already knew about his backstory set to rhyme, but there's a tiny smattering of new details and they're all good news to me.

Referring specifically to his attempts to talk about the third dimension as "preaching"? Check

Saying he "divided" his home—implying that a fair amount of people believed in him? Check

Confirming that he did what he did primarily for praise & attention—"for their sweet applause"? Check

It doesn't say he was a cult leader but it sure does add plenty more evidence you can use to say he could be—we're tilting ever closer to that being his most likely history. Another tally in the Yet Another Way This Fic I Started Over A Year Before TBOB Came Out Is Terrifyingly TBOB Compatible column.

I'm assuming that calling the other Euclideans "blind" is metaphorical (ignorant/specifically unable to see the third dimension) rather than literal—they seemed to have a concept of pictures, and the code that's consistently used to represent Euclideans speaking is a color code. And like... why would they have optometrists? Particularly with reading charts if vision is so rare that they'd have no reason to develop a visual language? How would a patient even be able to read the chart if they probably never had a teacher who could teach them to read a visual language??

Or, maybe when the poem was written, it was meant literally, and that's just a worldbuilding idea that was left on the cutting room floor along with the poem itself.

I also wonder if "town" is meant literally or if it was just chosen because it rhymes with "down" ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I've wondered how large Euclydia is since we found that poem on TINAWDC—if they say that going off the top of the dimension makes you pop up on the bottom and off the left side makes you pop up on the right, then that must mean it's small enough that its people have traveled to its furthest boundaries and looped back to where they started. And the highest authority we've heard of from his dimension is the "mayor". Maybe Euclydia is the size of a town. Would definitely lend credence to it feeling restrictive, especially to someone who can see how much space there is outside of it.

Personally, I still think Euclydia's much larger—the first time Bill represents it, he depicts it as a planet, and we see that same planet again in TBOB—but you could make a case for it being tiny with no firm evidence to disprove the theory.

[cadavpurr]

angelic kitty miracle chan. angelic kitty fucking miracle chan

ive been waiting for this film to come out for a while and it did not disappoint at all. the attention to detail is fucking incredible. the posters the shirt the stickers the pillow the tumblr blog the cosplay oh my fucking god. the cosplay. this film hit really close to home for me. of course there’s some differences because alex is transfem and im transmasc but the whole thing with like. her constantly spending as much time as she can isolating herself because she just wants to watch her comfort show instead of talk to her friends. her wanting to look exactly like her favorite character even though it’s impossible. the fucking scene of her not being able to fit into the cosplay and then the intro music blaring and the animation being projected onto her almost as if it’s taunting her fucked me up BAD (rewatching that scene now, i realize that the music wasn’t even that loud. i think that it was fucking me up so bad that it just made everything feel so much more intense than it actually was)

this fucking shot. I can’t tell you how many times ive thought of just how much I wanted to go into some sort of stasis while laying in bed watching my comfort movie on loop for hours, completely still. times where i would fantasize about forming some kind of chrysalis with my blankets and when i would break through id be whatever character i had an unhealthy attachment to at the moment. it is an impossible goal but id rather think of that rather than the reality. im flesh and bones and not lines on a screen. there is no power to let me transform because im human, not a lovingly hand crafted and intended to be flawless and innocent character. and I hate having to think about that. I dont think the reality of me being a living breathing being has really even hit me yet even while i write this. apologies if this is all kinda word salad im not a writer by any means.

you can see the fucked up dog in the background of this which I think is really funny

[cha-melodius]

For the hug prompt

17, Loki / Mobius

15, Alex / Henry

(Now taking a little fandom break—thanks for the Lokius prompt! I will circle back to the firstprince one later. This is a little season 2-set moment. read all the hug ficlets)

17: The hug where they have their other hand rubbing circles on your back, kisses littering your hair, words of comfort on the tip of their tongue.

Most loops, Loki doesn’t have time to let the reality of what he’s continuously experiencing sink in. He’s got a job to do and far too much to learn, so no matter how many times he fails, no matter how many times he watches his friends—this small collection of people he’s come to care so much about—simply disintegrate, he keeps his head up and keeps going. There’s no other option, really.

Occasionally, though, the accumulated damage to his psyche that such things inflict catches up with him. Occasionally, Loki time slips somewhere into the past he doesn’t intend to, as if his mind is giving him an enforced break. Once, after a particularly troubling iteration in which he and Mobius somehow ended up in a yelling match before Mobius stubbornly insisted on getting himself spaghettified, his control of the slipping, well, slips and he ends up in the TVA archives at some unknown time.

He was at his wit’s end when he started slipping, and once his body comes to rest he falls to his knees and lets out a frustrated yell, then collapses forward onto his hands, breathing heavily. The release makes him feel marginally better, so that’s something. It doesn’t do much to help the ache in his chest, though, the hole being slowly carved out every time he watches his friends die. Tears still sting in his eyes, and he squeezes them shut hard in an attempt to make himself get a bloody grip.

Another moment, and he’ll time slip more purposefully, to sometime when he’ll be able to be useful. Hopefully.

Before he can collect himself, though, a familiar cadence of footsteps echoes through the empty archives. Loki’s about to slip anytime else, because either this Mobius won’t know him or he’ll be too familiar, and Loki’s not sure he can take either right now. He doesn’t quite manage it before Mobius rounds the corner, his eyes going wide.

“Loki? What are you— Oh, what’s wrong?”

And Loki shatters. It’s too soon, he wasn’t prepared, and he’s hit the end of his rope. Because this Mobius knows him—more than that, he’s got that look on his face, the one that Loki’s been trying to ignore, the one that says that Loki means more than he should to him. The one he’d had on his face when he refused to let Loki venture out into the time loom, the one that rends tears in Loki’s resolve, even though he’s doing all of this for Mobius.

For all of them, of course. But it would be stupid to pretend that Mobius isn’t special, and Loki’s not stupid.

Mobius moves more quickly than he expects, dropping to his knees beside Loki and wordlessly tugging him into a breathlessly tight hug. And Loki goes, lets Mobius wrap his arms around his shoulders and tug him against his chest, lets the emotion wash through him for once instead of burying it deep down where no one can touch it. He’s not sure how long they sit there on the floor of the archives, Mobius rubbing comforting circles between his shoulder blades and murmuring promises that it’ll be ok— promises that he certainly can’t keep—into Loki’s hair.

It doesn’t really matter how long, anyway. For once, Loki lets himself have this moment of comfort, and knows that these minutes in Mobius’ arms will sustain him for a few hundred more attempts, at least.

[omagpies]

since today is a magpie lore day apparently, i feel like oversharing (ya kno, what counts for oversharing for this guy on this here microblogging patform)

when i was very small, i accidentally caught a movie on my grandparents' tv. i was banished to the country house for the summer and bored out of my mind, so i spent my days disappearing into the forest, drawing, reading, and sneaking bits of tv time when no one was there to catch me

anyway. the movie. i remembered very little of it afterwards, just that it had body horror practical effects(?), snakes(?) and small shriveled heads with teeth(?). i was especially afraid of the small shriveled heads, but the body horror was very difficult to stomach too.

i had nightmares for weeks (and couldn't tell anyone why, of course, or that i was even having them, because then i would be Found Out), and even after it more or less left me i would still get jumpscared by the sudden memory of it years into my life.

as i was very young and my memory was very spotty, i couldn't figure out for years what the movie was. i thought, maybe if i could, then i would watch it and find out that it's not that bad at all, right?

(i'm a huge weenie when it comes to horror movies. i can't even watch most thrillers because they are too scary for me. i nearly fled the theater while watching 'i, legend', which was the only time i almost left the movies, that's how bad it is for me lmao)

a few years ago i finally found out what it was. it was beetlejuice (1988). from sporadic screengrabs and general vibes i connected the dots. so that's problem solved, right? i can just watch it and be done with it, right? right?

WRONG

i absolutely cannot watch it. i even tried going for a 'everything great about' video for beetlejuice and failed at minute 4 out of 20 because a jumpscare send me into an anxiety attack. when i was at dragoncon earlier this year, there was so much beetlejuice-related extravaganza and so many cosplayers that i was bombarded with the accursed green-black-white combo almost anywhere i went. it was! an experience! made all the more ironic since i spent most of my time there cosplaying as fizzarolli -- you know, the guy who shares an actor with broadway's beetlejuice, alex brightman

so like. at this moment, the most involved i can get with beetlejuice is looping the same two clips of the musical on youtube and! thoroughly enjoying myself! because alex brightman is fun! he makes it fun! it isn't scary! but underneath all that...the horrors lurk, pinging my buried childhood memories, and the sense of unease doesn't leave me.

i live in a state of both anxiety and utter fascination with beetlejuice. i want to watch the movie so badly, but it terrifies me like no piece of media has terrified me before or since. and yet i can't stop thinking about it and trying to scoot closer. it's my fucking moby dick. striped and with green hair. god damn it

[moistvonlipwig]

🔥do you have any more for the cw's supergirl bc the last one was so so so so funny and real and true

thank youuu i had to think about this one though bc to be honest i saw this ask and the entirety of cw supergirl disappeared from my brain. but now i have remembered things to be salty about. looping in @yourlocalegotisticalqueerishere who also asked. anyway this one is not quite so funny unforchy, it's more morbid as hell?? but um i think the way the show/the superfriends handled the aftermath of crisis is genuinely really disturbing.

@sideguitars and i have talked a lot about this and i touched on it in my fic which everyone should go readies right now :3 but basically. the result of crisis is that everyone in the arrowverse (except a select few people - barry, kara, kate kane, the legends of tomorrow lady i legitimately forgot her name, j'onn, lex, ryan choi, technically the wellses who are stored instead nash (?), jennifer pierce, & lastly lena due to lex's deal with the monitor) dies. and when the world is "reset" j'onn flies around restoring a lot of the main characters' memories but not all of them. in practice, all the shows treat this less like our beloved characters have literally died and been replaced and their replacements have 'our' versions' memories in their heads as well, and much more like restoring memories effectively brings our dead versions back to life. let us proceed with the assumption that this is more or less what is happening, because that is how the shows act.

now there are 2 ways to read the morality of this action of restoring memories, which notably happens multiple times without consent from the person involved. #1 is that the new versions of these characters are people in their own right and deserve to live. through this reading, restoring 'our' versions is a violation of these people, tantamount to murder; it is overwriting their inconvenient experiences with the experiences of people our characters like better. there is no material difference, in this reading, between what j'onn does to the people whose memories he restores and what lena does to eve in s5 when she puts hope in her brain. through this reading, the superfriends are pure villains. you could imagine a superhero movie with this very plot, in fact: a sympathetic supervillain from another universe that got erased trying to replace people from this universe with people from their own.

#2 is that our versions of these characters, for whatever reason, deserve to live more than the new versions (or versions from any other earths). through this reading, it is justifiable to restore people's memories without consent, but anyone who is not restored is effectively being allowed to die, an act of criminal negligence by a band of so-called superheroes. the limits of who gets chosen to have their memories returned then become morbidly fascinating. on supergirl -- which is the only show that crisis really affects at all, frankly (besides arrow i guess but who gives a fuck), so it's kind of the only one where any of this matters -- we know for a fact that j'onn restores alex, nia, brainy, kelly, and clark and probably lois and maybe m'gann also i forget tbh. i think it is reasonable to assume he also restored james. i certainly hope he did! but we know he did not restore, say, cat grant, or andrea rojas, or william dey, or other people outside their immediate circle.

which raises questions like: why kelly? because she is alex's girlfriend of a few months? because she is james's sister? well, what about mama olsen? did they restore her memories? surely not remembering lex luthor torturing her son would change her significantly. what about alex's fake latina ex-girlfriend, maggie sawyer? does she not get her memories back, on account of being merely the ex, not the current girlfriend of supergirl's sister? and so on.

but of course the biggest crime by far is that the superfriends do not know that lex made a deal with the monitor for lena's survival and they believe she perished. and they do nothing to bring her memories back. this is despite the fact that she is unquestionably the number one person affected by the change to the universe. please consider that the biggest change to earth-prime from earth-38 is that lex luthor now never went evil, is friends with the supers, and is still in charge of luthorcorp. obviously this has a trickle-down effect on many people's lives, but i would think it obvious that the person most impacted is his little sister who he abused and manipulated for her entire life (per s4), who was left to deal with the fallout of his going evil and, oh yeah, who recently had to kill him. and now suddenly he is back in her life and has power over her and he remembers every way that she (rightfully) betrayed him. in fact i think it is not at all a stretch to say that lex's primary motivation in how he set up earth-prime was gaining more control over lena (which is why it's interesting and speaks to a lingering ember of humanity and love in lex that he lets her keep her memories at all).

and for some reason none of the superfriends are like. hey maybe lena, our former friend whose last action before her (apparent) death was helping to save three billion people at the superfriends' behest, deserves to live and know the full truth of who her brother is and what their relationship has been. alex even tries to argue that kara shouldn't tell lena about any of their history at all because then lena might be mad at kara for all the lying and that would, you know, suck for kara personally. which, like, i guess kara wanting to tell lena the truth is a step up from that load of horseshit, but again, none of you considered restoring her memories? you're just going to let her stay dead? after alex, j'onn, and kara all agreed in 5x08 that lena was not a lost cause and could still be saved? lmao. okay.

and then once they realize lena has her memories we again have the issue of like. why is it that alex and kara get to have THEIR support systems restored but lena doesn't? again. lena is the one whose life has been MOST overturned by crisis. she is the one currently under her abuser's thumb -- her abuser who is the only one who apparently bothered to consider saving her life, and who is the only non-superfriend she knows who also remembers their previous earth. which, keeping in mind that as far as she knows all the superfriends were down to kill her in 5x08 with a nuclear fucking missile, means that she has literally nowhere safe to go.

like. one of her best and most supportive friends was sam arias. and to be fair s5 seems dead set on pretending sam never existed with the exception of 5x13. but if she wanted to go to sam, it wouldn't be the same sam with knowledge of earth-38. andrea, also, isn't the same andrea. they make it a point to show us she has a different backstory. even lillian isn't the same lillian, and, i mean, lillian was indeed abusive to lena, but earth-38 lillian was more on her side than earth-prime lillian is. lena has literally no one. she has her abusive brother and her former friends who lied to her for years and tried to kill her (as far as she knows) and that's it. but alex gets her girlfriend of a few months back. and kara gets her cousin back. because what kara and alex want matters, and what lena needs does not matter. and then the superfriends are all Shocked and Appalled that lena goes back to lex. which like. i don't love that as a story beat either, but i put it to you: where the fuck else was she supposed to go?

anyway i could rant about this all day long lol but basically it points to how profoundly unconcerned the superfriends were with lena's status as lex's first and primary victim, which really undermines their later claims that they're lena's new and better family. and it also points to how little the show itself cared about the psychology of abuse victims (particularly female ones) that this was never factored into how they wrote the reconciliation between lena & the superfriends. and more broadly the whole thing suggests a frankly eerie self-centeredness on the part of the superfriends that makes all their moral posturing seem hollow. no matter which way you read the morality of restoring people's memories post-crisis, the superfriends (mostly kara, j'onn, and alex tbf) acted callously, selfishly, and without care for the very people they were supposed to protect. and, as always, lena luthor suffered for it.

[milliesfishes]

꣑ৎ౨ৎyou and alex get lost in a corn maze꣑ৎ౨ৎ fem reader x alex nilsen

The sun was turning the clouds a delightful shade of pink, like cotton candy was spun right in the sky from the hands of some deity. Cornstalks poked into the vision, spanning far above Alex's head and even further above yours.

You poked your head around the path corner, groaning when a dead end met your eyes. "No, this one's a bust."

"Shoot." Alex scratched his head, turning around and looking behind him. "How far back was the last trail marker?"

"I dunno." You pulled your jacket tighter around you, rubbing your palms together. "Maybe ten minutes?"

"Huh." He squinted into the distance, bumping your shoulder playfully. "I kinda feel like we're in the apocalypse."

"Soon we'll have to eat each other to stay alive."

"I'll take your left hand and you can have mine."

"How chivalrous." You shivered, and he pulled you into a hug, rubbing your arms. "We might have to burn the maze down to stay warm."

"At least we'd see the way out," he murmured, and you giggled. Alex looked down at you like you were utterly adorable, smoothing the back of your head.

You sighed, burying your face in his chest. "You are the only person in the world I'd want to be lost in a corn maze for three hours with."

"Be still my heart," Alex teased, and you hmphed, smiling up at him.

You looped your arm with his since you hadn't passed anybody in the maze for the entire time you'd been here. "C'mon, handsome. Let's get outta here so we can find some hot cider or something."

Alex's cheeks flushed just a little, and you laughed, tugging him along. Truthfully, even though it was getting dark, you weren't at all worried. If three hours had been ten, it wouldn't feel like much at all so long as you were with him.

You began to stand on tiptoes at different intervals, trying to see either through or over the feathery cornstalks. Both attempts failed.

He chuckled watching you. "Need some help there, baby?"

"Uh huh." You turned to him, bouncing on your tiptoes. He grinned, positioning his hands on your hips and hoisting you up, so your legs were hooked over his hips, clasped in the back. You craned your neck, bracing your arms around his neck and leaning in to kiss his nose.

Alex turned around so you could see ahead on the path. You craned your neck, looking around. "This is what you see all the time? The ground is this far away?"

"I guess so, cutie," he smiled. "See a way out?"

"No," you said, sighing and letting him bring you down. "Guess we'll have to get out the old-fashioned way."

You wandered ahead of him, practically skipping as you turned corners in the maze. The sunset illuminated you as you trudged around, humming something to yourself. When you turned around to look at Alex. He smiled wide. "I'll just follow you, babe."

And follow you he did, letting you take the lead and wander your way around. It felt like a game of chase, and you stopped, scrunching your nose. "I think we're almost there."

"Victory." Alex grinned at you as your arm linked through his once more. "Knew you could get us outta here."

"I followed my instincts," you chirped, turning the corner to see the brilliant sight of the exit. Squealing excitedly, you turned to him. "We did it!"

"Good job, baby." Alex kissed your forehead once, and you leaned against him, giving him a loving look. When he touched your hand, his blue eyes widened. "Your hands are cold."

"A little bit." You shrugged.

Alex put your hand in his closest pocket, wrapping an arm around your waist and rubbing your side. "Let's go get you a hot drink."

Guiding you over to the stand selling donuts and cider, he left you under one of the heat lamps radiating warmth from the top with the promise of food and drink.

As you waited, you watched the glowing orb of the sun sink delightfully down under the hills, the moon beginning to appear, early stars dotting the paint palette smeared across the sky. It was beautiful- all of it. You folded your arms over yourself, smiling at the sight.

When Alex returned, he pressed a hot cup of cider into your hands, holding one of his own. "Drink up. Want your insides warm too." You smiled when he put an arm around your shoulders, bringing you right up close. You took a sip of your drink, humming delightedly as it sent a hot chill down your spine.

"Thank you," you murmured, resting your chin on his shoulder.

If the two of you were alone he would have kissed you. "You're welcome."

tagging @kellielovesmovies because <3

[dietmountaindewbae]

hiii i LOVE ur fics omg pls never stop writing,

could you maybe do something You-ish (the TV show "You") (idk if you've seen it but it's amazing) something stalker-ish? where alex is joe and reader is his, soon to be, gf (cuz he makes her) (any alex era) 💌

hope ur well🤍💋

xxiii. obsession

alex turner x reader

word count: 12626

summary: We ran into each other by chance or by fate, your clumsiness started something for me, something for us, and it's my duty to find out who you are. (the car! era) This story is written on Alex's narrative.

warnings: obsessions & rough s*x

song recommendation: tear you apart by she wants revenge

───── ୨୧ ─────

Ever since that day outside of a party, when you fell into my arms, drunk and loud, I had never felt so high, I had felt something the moment you smiled at me and flushed from the embarrassment, your eyes watery from the cold, your lips red full of blood, alcohol running fast through your veins, my heart falling from my mouth, you pulled away and hugged yourself, too embarrassed from what had happened, you thought it was too much booze, I thought it was meant to be, right place and right time. You just said "Sorry," I helped you to get back on your feet, our hands lightly graze and we lock in a stare, but then your mates dragged you across the street, they had dragged you away from me, like parents and their out-of-control kid, you waved goodbye at me, and all I could do was smile and wave goodbye to you, I was a fool, I didn't know what to say, it was one of those 'what would have happened?' moments when I ask myself, 'what if I had just said "It's ok, don't worry, love"' Icould vividly picture us walking down the street, going for some food because we were pissed, I would've kissed you, and asked for your number, then we could be dating, holding hands in the street, laughing at everything, hanging out with your stupid mates, if they hadn't been there and taken you away from me, I probably wouldn't have found meself, hiding behind the threes in the middle of a cold winter in LA, hoping to be in the warmth of your arms than out in the cold darkness of the street. I can't help to wonder if you ever think of me.

Your name and your last name stayed in a constant loop on my mind, one of your mates, the one with the light brown hair had screamed it as she found you falling into my arms, it would be stupid if I didn't look for you, right? You're gorgeous, you were nice and interesting, It would be weird if I didn't try to find your social media. It was easy to find you, I hate to admit how easy it is to find everything online these days, I found your Instagram and Facebook with just a few clicks on my computer, it's too easy it makes me laugh.

I scrolled through every single one of your posts on Facebook, you had a few, not many, everything was mainly about your little family trips and your sister's child, I made a note that you might just have Facebook out of pressure from your mother and sister since they always tag you in memes or those annoying TED Talk videos and you never answer, I found your mother's page, widowed, 49 years old, looks 45, she gave you her face, older sister, found her page too, married with a toddler, awfully bitter since she has to post where she is at all times, even if her child had taken a massive shit and had the looks of a giant worm, she would've posted it, I left the best for last. Your Instagram, no one these days uses Facebook.

Your Instagram was private but empty with not a single sight of you... so it's no use, what about your friends?... Hello you... I could hold on to these group pictures Larissa posted, thank you internet! Your friend group was small but they knew how to get around, only 4 people, two girls called Julie and Larissa, and Julie's boyfriend Luca, 5 if you counted me in, soon, luckily for me, Julie had an empty page, barely any pictures, just her and Luca but her profile was public but that lead me to find your other friend, Larissa had pictures of her face and some of you and Julie at pubs, very self-centered I suppose, Luca only posted about being a gym addict. I took a more personal approach, your sister Nina, who loves you very much, she had plenty of pictures of you. Thanksgiving was at your house, you looked gorgeous in those pictures, you wore a white dress with red flowers and black platforms, your long hair in beautiful waves, if any pervert were to see it, you would be such an easy victim with that long hair, but you're not, you're not so easy to hunt down in the dark. There was a picture of you and your sister's baby boy, sitting next to the three by a bay window, great. I took note of the stores, houses, and historical buildings nearby and then reality hit me as I took a cab on the way to your house.

Come on Alex, what are you doing? You look like a creep with your cap and coat in the middle of the night, It's only just a crush it'll go away, just like all the others. But you see? That's the problem with you, you're not, this is dangerous but I'll take my chances for you, I'm not obsessed with you, like I said, it's only just a crush. I hide behind some trees in front of your house on the other side of the street, and I contemplate this wonderful girl in her bedroom, going round and round with a book in her hands. 

At night me head couldn't stop spinning, making all of these scenarios, about a girl who meets a stranger, and they fall madly in love in just a split second. I didn't need more, I could hold on to your light vanilla perfume and the softness of your hair, your lips, your collarbone, your shoulder, the curve of your breasts in the blouse you wore that night, I want to hold you close and kiss you hard.

For next few days I followed you around, I made you a time table, every morning at 5:30 you went for a run, and you finished off at home some with exercises you found on YouTube, you were visibly struggling, and that made me laugh but I felt bad for doing so, you worked hard, you finished around 6:30, you liked walking like a true new yorker, in your most sober looks, sometimes in a dress with a blue navy sweater on top of dresses , jeans, and a silky shirt, winter or no winter, you loved wearing tank tops, loved exposing even just a little bit of your body, even in the coldest days, your legs, your beautiful shoulders, a v-neck, mini skirts, checkered shorts or pants, and sexy patterned tights with colors like pastel blue, and even red to spice up your all black outfits, and you always wore that luscious and berry coloured lipstick on your lips, heels, motorcycle boots, ballerina flats, dresses, chunky sweaters, straight leg vintage jeans, coats, heels, shoulder bags, mini bags, but what a must was, something that never came off of you, your golden necklace, you're an everything girl, you dressed for the day, it told you exactly what to wear, even if you broke your pattern, you mostly dressed like Jane Birkin, jeans, white shirt, chunky purse, but you love leather, leather belts, leather jackets. Then you walk to your favorite café, and your drink depends on how tired you feel, black coffee for busy days or cappuccinos for the days you don't feel in a rush, then you take the metro, read a book and sip on your coffee while listening to your music, you are in college by 7:30, have 30 minutes to spare, but you're wise, and you use them organize yourself while you ease up with some music, I've never seen a longer playlist to be honest, there's a bit of everything there, you write your things in a red wine journal, I wonder what's in those little pink notes you stick on your notebook.

I made sure you got safely to your workplace after school at 4:00 pm, a bakery, you love talking to the people at the register as they ask you for your favorite dessert, and you always choose the same, tiramisu, rich coffee with some liquor, mascarpone carefully enveloped with delicious whipping cream, and a touch of cocoa sifted all over the tiramisu, and you juggle back and forward with doing school work, help in the kitchen, serve the costumers with a bright and friendly smile, you're tired and they don't pay you enough. And when you get home a 10 pm, you don't go to sleep, you stay up until you're finished but you never truly are, no matter how late or early, you can't sleep, why is that beautiful? Aren't your sheets made of the softest cotton? But I can see, that you are compromised to live in a city that never sleeps, you get ready for your next job at your nearest live jazz pub as a bartender, I'm very familiar with that type of job, you serve the customers with a kind smile as the music rocks you, you talk to other girls, and the artists flirt with you from time to time but you didn't submit, you knew better than that, you got paid well, the tips that fell on your back pocket from the nasty old men helped you to afford your apartment, barely making it to the next cut but you made it.

And every restless night when your mind couldn't stop thinking you went out to the nearest pub, and you made new friends, some men flirted with you until sadly, one night I had to watch you leave with one of them, he conquered your body before me, I wonder if you ever think of me in that way, a sexy stranger, that clouded your mind with ideas until you finally gave in. He did what he wanted to do, and when he left, you were still flushed and needy, that night I watched you hump your pillow with angst to get yourself off, a gorgeous picture to see, one that was engraved in my brain since then.

Every night when I crashed in my bed, and I prayed for this to go away but it continued to grow, I prayed for you to get out of me head, but your face, your smile, every curve of your body lived in me head, and if I don't something about it, you'll hunt me down forever. 

I walked down the street on a Saturday night, It's been a week since we bumped into each other, discreetly searching for you with my eyes, until, I found you, in your West Village, street-level, white, vintage but modern apartment that might be hard for you to afford but you keep on paying it because the creepy landlord has a massive crush on you, he cannot fool me, I know what it's like.

You live in such a melancholic part of New York and also warm, old, and historic, it holds so many stories, and memories that's why it reminds you of home, like the baby pictures your mom posts, your living area illuminated with yellow lights from you mid-century lamps, like the sky in a beautiful afternoon, laying in your sette in a white tank top and panties, finally, you get to relax and enjoy yourself.

I could see the outline of your body through your thin linen white curtains, you were wearing vintage headphones connected to your record player, reading a book, Bukowski's 'Love Is A Dog From Hell' Yes, it must certainly is. Then suddenly you stood up, I'm certain you're barefoot, through a crack in the curtain I can see you're approaching the window, I could see the left side of your face, soft, round, cute little pointy nose, and your eyes, a sparkle in them as you stare into the sky, pink pouty lips, and a little beauty spot in your cheek, your phone in the ear, moving your lips with a smile as if you were talking to the person in the other line in real life. You nodded a couple of times and then you hung up, I saw the outline of your body, running towards your bedroom, what's got you in such a hurry? But before you forget, you turn up the music so loud the whole neighborhood can hear it, you choose something classic 'Bang Bang' by Nancy Sinatra, shoot me down, your linen curtain reflecting the light, and you take out your top in one move tossing it away, the outline of your naked beautiful body stretching had made me think so many things to do with it in less than a second, you pick your clothes with care, hanging them in front of your mirror, posing with the clothes on top of your body.

You sit somewhere in your room, and I can hardly see you, something about your magnetism draws me to you, so I stupidly cross the street and find shelter behind a three, but I get even more stupid as I get to see you doing your makeup in the mirror, your phone rings and your face goes blank, you answer and I see how your expressions change like the way flowers rot, gradually you get darker and darker, until... you break into tears putting an end to the call, and you push your phone away, you look into the mirror, and I see a tear roll down your cheek slowly, your face scrunched, and your cheeks reddened, you look at yourself in the mirror, all I can see is hate and rage, and then, you're cold as ice, not another tear rolls down your cheeks, you clean them up with a soft cotton pad and continue to apply makeup on your face, I wonder who has made you cry? even if it was just one small insignificant tear, whoever that was...they still made you cry.

Before you leave, you check yourself one last time, the dress you choose to wear was way better than the typical night outfits women wear these days, less ostentatious, you like dressing feminine, classic but modern, but not so pretty that you look like a little girl, you were more than pretty, you were hot, steaming, boiling, no man would approach you like that, and that was the sad truth for you but good news for both of us, not as any man would approach you, they had to have big balls to do so, baby doll dress, platforms, and a racer jacket, cute, stylish, edge, as always, you were sharp as a blade to the skin. Your hair is straight and it looks longer than when it's on your natural waves, and the wind blows perfectly on it, but that velvet red lipstick on your mouth might be the death of me.

You went outside, took a cab, and went out, I waved my arm, and soon enough a cab passed by.

"Where to?" The man said.

"Follow that cab in front of you," He took off, it was sad, drivers these days don't even care for men like this, the ones that just order to do something like that, there were a lot of crazy people here, and I had to protect you from them.

I see you being dropped off at a crowded pub, I hand a good amount of money to the man, and he drives off, I see you go inside, and you find your mates, I sit across from you, not too close so that you can see me but, but not so far so I don't hear you. You hug each one of them and you sit in the booth next to Julie.

"What's the occasion?" You said, next thing, Julie turns and shows a sparkling diamond on her finger, "Luke, Luke, Luke!" You teased her in awe, you held her hand carefully, examining it up close to the ring, "It's stunning" You said with a kind smile, it was amazing how I wished to be that hand, the one you caressed with care.

"I wanna do something big for the bachelorette, and I don't know where to start, I mean..." It must be hard for you, everyone around you is married or has a serious more than the 2-year relationship you can't hold on to, everyone has a kid now, everyone turns 27 and suddenly they already have a house, a child, and a loving husband, I wouldn't be like that ever, things won't be like that with me, I promise, we can take it as slow and calm as you want, or maybe go fast, I can go both ways, I just have to wait for the moment I may finally introduce myself to you, maybe by tomorrow when you go out but it must be soon before you forget about that last Saturday night, and it looks like you are in the process of, you are emptying those glasses of wine like coke in a hot summer day.

"Ease up with the wine," Larissa says, "You're gonna end up embarrassing yourself like the last time, you always have to pull a seen," Here we go.

"What fuckin' scene?" You spit back, "I was tired and I had been wearing high heels for more than 2 hours, yes, I was drunk but it was a genuine accident" You were annoyed, why could no one understand that? Accidents happen, and it must be hard for you to stand that pain, if I had stayed over, I would've given you a lovely massage, and treated you the way you're supposed to, I'm starting to be not very fond of Larissa.

"Uhu, yeah, but do you remember the last time you went to that party and got so drunk you "accidentally" confused a cigarette with marihuana and cried in the street like a baby?" Larissa, you just had to make it worse, didn't you?

"Fuck off, I can do whatever the fuck I want, if you don't want to believe me that's fine, oh!... and a scene, Larissa, a scene is what you pull when you yell at everyone as if you were the fucking owner of everything and everyone" You took your purse and rushed out, I see that Julie went out to get you, so I discreetly follow her, and find you waving your arm for a cab.

"Wait, don't go," Julie says with a caring tone, "I know you're not ok, you can't lie to me, you know how Lari is..."

"But why does she have to be a fuckin' news flasher of everything I do, embarrassing me in front of everyone, making me look like I'm not fun to be around," Julie tried to hug you but you wouldn't let her near.

"You say some scary shit while you're drunk, that's the only thing I'm going to agree on, but I can see you're not ok," Intuitive, honest, and kind, good choice for a friend.

"He called me" Julie sighs, who is he? This is the prize of being old fashioned, just like me, that's another thing I like about you, you have a life, even if you spend time alone, you go out in the world instead of taking a picture of it and expose your life, you have a little life, but it's yours and only yours.

"What did he want?" You shrugged and searched for something in your leather purse, taking a cigarette, and desperately flicking the lighter on.

"He just asked how I was, while he's off... modeling and possibly fucking two to three girls every single night, and he asks me how I am, drunk and high, he's so... he's-" To find the right words to describe that wanker only made me think about the damage he must have done to you, come on, spill the name, "That's not really everything, he's just-"

"Part of everything" Julie answered back, hugging you close to her, a caring hug, sweet, I could take a picture of it, I'm glad there is Julie for you, "Go home, and text me when you get there," She holds her arm up, taking a cab for you and sending you back home, I did the same thing as before, and the man did as he was told. But the problem was, you didn't go home, you went to a nearby liquor store and bought more wine for yourself, you drank it straight from the bag and you plugged in your wired earphones to your phone, kicking your feet and humming to the music 'New Dawn Fades' by Joy Division, a sad post-punk classic, you should be glad I am here to be on the look for you as you waddle in the steers, an easy target, if anyone dared to do anything to you, well, you must be glad there is me.

You walked a few blocks to your house, but you didn't go in, you couldn't hold yourself up anymore, so you sat by the staircase, defeated since you were desperately looking for your keys in your little purse, and you stared into the empty dark street, and you cried, you kept crying so hard it makes me feel the need to go and help you, I didn't really think about what I was doing, you were desperate, and I was afraid of letting you stay outside like that, then you stood up, unpredictable as always, I see you taking a fast pace. What are you thinking about? Did you forget something? You walk a few blocks until you stay still on a crowded street, the cars on that street go by faster, and you stare into the void as the red lights flash before you in straight lines, your cheeks stained with black tears, the darkness takes you in like one of their children, your head wrapped up in horrible ideas, so dark they blind your eyes, so atrocious your mind can only find one way to make you see the light at the end, you can't find peace, your body is tired, your eyebags are heavy, and you don't feel like yourself, you've lost control and you murmur something over and over again under your breath like some sort of sick prayer...

"A loaded gun won't set you free"

I see you take a step forward, now standing on the pavement, my heart drops to my stomach, and I run to get you, the wind blowing my cap away, what are you doing? why are you doing this? I can fix it, I can fix you, I can help you, I'll make it all disappear, before you take another step, the bus coming your way was out to get you, and you closed your eyes, but I won't let you go like that, my hand grasps your shoulder tightly, and I pull you to my arms, you're cold, shivering, your wired earphones fall from your head and get tangled in your hair.

"Are you alright?" Your face is wet with tears, and you look at me with big eyes, flushed again from the embarrassment, but that sparkle, that little fucking sparkle just makes me so mad, I'd kill for you to see me like that over and over, your little nose red, your eyelids a bit puffy.

You quickly wipe your tears, "Erm..." You sniffed, and you stared into my face with a cute and educated smile, "No... I mean, yes... sorry, I'm just... I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry," You scan my face, the familiarity of it makes a grin spread on your lips, "If I sound like a creep please stop me, but, I think I know you" Your lips curl into a bigger smile, as you realize who I am, I am that man, I am the man who will always be there for you, "You're that guy I fell into the other day" I pretend as if am amazed over who small the world is.

"Hey you," You said to me with a smile.

"Hello you" We both look to our feet, and I feel some warmth creeping up me cheeks, "We gotta stop meetin' like this" I see you flush, looking at me through your lashes, you slowly bite your bottom lip as you brush your hair out of the way, flirty. You struggle to untangle your earphones from your hair, I take a step forward and gently untangle them.

"You just had to come and rescue me again huh? Who are you? Superman?" I hear your voice, and your laughter like a melody I would love to hear over and over again, gentle, a little deep, but beautiful, I can see that behind all of that dark makeup and those dark looks, you're a sweet but lost little girl.

"I'm Batman" You're laughing and blushing at my jokes, that means that you like me.

"I like your accent batman" That's nice to hear, some people say that it sounds too rough and I sound like a scumbag, but I'm glad your ears enjoy the sound of it.

"Thanks, love" You take a step forward, your eyes looking at mine and then at my lips, it's hard to breathe right now.

"What are you doin' so late, huh? Are you wearing your costume?" You tease me, and we begin to walk together, to nowhere, just where we want this conversation to take us.

"Sort of, and you?" You shrugged, what a hard night you had. I'm worried about you, you didn't need to apologize for "not thinking", we kept walking until the smell of food dilated our nose trails.

"Just went for some drinks with a couple of friends nothing too exciting... do you mind if we stop for some food?" My fantasies had become real, you wanted to get some street pizza, the nice old man smiling at you tenderly, he's nice, not creepy, just a nice man, you ask for two slices of pepperoni with Italian sausage and the man is nice enough to give you the most fresh and warm slices of pizza, "Here, it's on me... it's the least I can do"

"Thank you" You chuckled and waved it off, gosh I wish I could just freeze this moment forever.

"I should be thanking you..." You wait to hear my name, and I stay silent contemplating this moment for a second, this is how it starts.

"Alex" You shake hands with me as your tongue, teeth, and lips articulate your name, you have a lovely name, and I'm crazy about you, "Charmed" I hold my gaze at you as you slowly let go of me hand.

"So, what were your plans for the night before I had completely crashed them" Funny, dark jokes, sarcasm, you're really smart but you don't like showing it off, you make me laugh so much, it's clear we have the same humor, that's another reason as to why you're perfect for me and I am for you.

"Um... I thought about going out somewhere, anywhere, sometimes I can't sleep... I'm afraid of losing life by being a slave of me work, me house, everythin' but I found something exciting" You smile to yourself, and you smile at me, you see? We're perfect.

"I do that sometimes... whenever I can't sleep, I go to a bar and you know... try to meet new people, I hate having to post about it on social media though, everyone has their screens glued to their faces, and I just don't like that, I don't wanna breathe my phone, I wanna breathe air" If I were you I would write a whole book about this, I love that you think just like that, we can be people for once, and run around the world and make it ours, "What do you do for a living?"

"Music producer" You smiled at me, "And I have the gift of guessing people's favorite artists,"

"Really? What are mine's?" I have the chance to look at you confidently, I see you like that, I can see how fast your heart is going, how you try to calm it with your breathing, your chest rising and falling fast, as I stare into your eyes intensely making little goosebumps crawl like spiders, I hope you know how much I like you.

"Nancy, Lana... and summat dark like Joy Division Unknown Pleasures" You clap and you're amazed at how exact I am, I can smell it on you.

"Exactly, I love them," You began to hum their songs, dancing on the street, I follow your lead, as you spin, "I was listening to it a few moments ago" You turn dark again, I'm not going to let you, I immediately regret ever saying that, I don't know what that bloody song did to you, but you were listening to it before you attempted to get crashed.

"I'm glad I was there" Sweeten up, tell me what's wrong, I'm here for you.

"Yeah... me too, I wasn't thinking straight..." You clean your throat, you cross your arms, and furrow you're eyebrows, it makes you angry to say it, makes you sad, makes you frustrated, and even so since you watch me patiently waiting for you to tell me what happened to you, I didn't have to say it, you already knew "I don't think you would like to hear about my problems Alex, they're meaningless"

"Nothin' is meaningless just like us meeting tonight perhaps..." Shite, I take it back, I can see your face looking at me weirdly, but you smiled, you're fascinated? Did you like that?

"You're right," You warm up to me, I can see it in your body, I can see it in your face, I've given you no reason to not trust me, I'm harmless, I told you you can trust me, "But I want a ciggy, if you don't mind" You lean against a brick wall, your leg supporting your weight, I'm in love with your smooth and shiny legs, what's your secret?

"Mind if I steal one?" You say no with your head, you check your box again, and you curse in your head. The box has only one cigarette left.

"Sharing it is" You light your cigarette with your pink lighter, I can see some cute puppy stickers on it, you inhale the thick white smoke and exhale it, your whole body relaxing, feeling lighter, you feel calm, and you hand it to me, holding it between your index and your middle, you have a vintage silver rose ring in your middle, cracked red nail polish, and the cigarette butt was stained with your gorgeous red lipstick, I take it in between my lips, your lipstick tastes sweet like marshmallows, I savor it, Jesus, I hope I can taste your pretty lips soon.

"Talk to me," You sigh, and your mouth articulates each phrase, your voice tired and sad, I hear every detail of your story with care, a girl that can't control her alcohol, one that just wants to have fun, one that makes stupid mistakes but learns, I see beauty not only out but inside you, in your mistakes, in your intentions, in your life, you only got one, and you've made noble mistakes, I can see you're a whole woman, a hot and determined woman, but you have no road clear enough, no road to pick, you're chasing something you don't even know what it is.

"So now, I'm just trying to see what happens, I'm getting my degree soon, and then I'll keep working, maybe I'll start something on my own" Maybe if you don't love your work, at least you can come home back to me, I'll cook dinner, I'll wash your clothes, I'll set the table, I'll prep you a warm bath, I'll shower you, you won't move a single finger when you come home to me, "How's working as a music producer?"

"Oh, well, it's great... sometimes we have our differences but most of the time I just do what people tell me to do, in secret I make their music better, sometimes they don't notice and they just brag about how amazing was their idea" Your cigarette burns away into my fingers, I set it off into the wall and discreetly put it inside my pocket, you change the direction, we're going back, you're shamelessly eying me up and down, I swear if you don't stop...

"What are your favorite bands?" You're changing the subject, I don't like that, I don't like that you don't want to talk about what you've told me, but I keep you interested.

"Well... an old-time favorite is The Strokes" I answer firmly, you take out from your purse your earphones, plug them into your phone, and press play on the music as we walk together sharing your music, 'Call It Fate Call It Karma' on full volume.

"Might be basic for you, but I don't see a better song for this moment" You turn to face me, and we stop in the dark corner of the sidewalk, your eyes greedy and precious, that bloody spark in your dark eyes excites me, it's all in your eyes, I can see it clearly, I can see what you want from me, you blink slowly and wait for me to make the next move, and I don't doubt for a second, I close the space between us, and very gently press the palm of my hand to your warm cheek, it's warm and pink, staring into your eyes like stars in the black sky, kissing your lips, sweet as burned marshmallows in a bonfire night, you kiss me so softly at first, but you make that animal inside me come alive, I'm a man, I'm an animal, and I kiss your tender lips hungrily, I didn't expect for you to answer back with the same hunger, you feed me with your kiss, and your breath tastes like ecstasy, I'm a junkie, sweet sweet nicotine, I'm a chain smoker, "Take me home, Alex..."

"I'll take you anywhere you tell me, sweetheart" You grab my hand, fingers intertwined, and I feel 15 again, my palms are sweaty, my sweat is cold, and I feel so warm in my clothes, I can't wait to take them off, the anticipation getting the best of me, you make my dreams come true, and I'm so happy the world had chosen you to fall into my arms. I'm your protector, a guardian angel.

On the way home, we sneak to share some angsty kisses three or more times, you're getting me worked up, letting me touch you, grasping your hips, biting my lip, kissing my cheek, moaning my name into my lips, you're making my head spin. We walk up the stairs together, opening the door to your shelter, you have a lovely house, so clean that some things are allowed to be misplaced, it's big because you don't like having so many things out, your bed is on the other side of the wall were you living area is, the vague familiarity of it makes me feel like I'm imagining it all.

"This my girl cave, my crib" You joke, I take pictures of it in my head from bottom to top, every single inch, every place I imagine us being in, watching tele, cooking together, making a mess of the kitchen of course, dancing, fucking, scratching your wooden countertop, "What do you think?"

"It's-" We both get freaked out by the knocks at your door, some dickhead calling out your name, begging you to open the door, you roll your eyes, you know exactly who he is.

You swing open the door, cross your arms, and stand your ground, marking that he's not welcome here, you're strong, you're determined, go you! Show some teeth, "I don't wanna hear another one of your crazy fucking stories, tell them to your mother, Cameron" You were about to shut the door in his face but he stops it with his foot, that must've hurt Cameron, that's your ex isn't he? The one who made you cry, "Leave" You spit.

"I won't, you can't possibly ask for something like that... you and I know there's no one better than me, no better match than us" You stay silent, why are you thinking? why are you second-guessing? He takes a step forward, he's getting closer, you're face is a frown, you don't want him to touch you even though he keeps trying.

"I don't want you here, you must leave now Cameron, I want you out" He turns into hysteric laughter, he thinks you're crazy, he thinks you've lost your mind, well big shot, you're not it, Cameron only wants to hurt you with his words, he wants to make the most damage, he gets off at this, making you his only real standard, but Cameron will never treat you like you must be treated.

"Don't talk me to like that" I take his aggressiveness as a sign to take a step in, who the fuck does this wanker think he is to talk to you like that? You see that's a real scumbag, and I'll be his worst nightmare.

"Like what?" I come up from the back, cocky, sounding like a total prick, and I can see that you love it, when I sound like this, dominant, confident, "She's telling you to go, I'm telling you to fuck off. Now" I slam my voice at him, there are scary people in this world, there are men like Cameron, he has an intense gaze, but he wouldn't ever pick up a fight for anyone, yes... not even you, he's too vain, a narcissist, he is all bark but no bite, and then there are the men who would move mountains for their loved ones, he steps away, and I shut the door close, I can feel you shivering beneath my skin.

You stare at me, and I drag you in closer, that's what you like... you liked to be treated rough, you like being needed, I push your hips against mine, I can see it in your face, you've felt it, you've felt how hard my cock is, and it's hurting so fucking bad now, I can't wait for another second, I can't wait to take you to bed, you jump on me, wrapping your gorgeous soft legs on me, I decide to leave the first reminder of me on your kitchen table, laying your body on top of the cold wooden countertop for the first reminder of me and the things I'm about to do to you, my knuckles pull down your panties, ripping them off from your skin, your pussy glistening, bathed in your wetness, I can smell your flesh from the distance, like a predator and their victim, I'm a lion, "I'm gonna fuckin' tear you apart"

"Fuuuckin' please" You moan so loudly I bet it could be heard from across the street, and your voice shivers, I've barely even touched you yet, and you're already so wet for me, what are you thinking about? what's in your mind? I wish I could crack your skull open.

I lower myself in between your legs, I've been so busy admiring your body, the scent of the almond oil you rub on your smooth legs, I bet that you shaved them today, and I wonder what else have you shaved, your dress rides to your hips as you contortion under my touch, Jesus, you're desperate for it, but no, I want to enjoy you.

"Calm the fuck down, lay still and close your eyes" I order, and you stiffen up, staying quiet, and still, "Atta girl", I can finally see what's in between your gorgeous long legs, a pink and small pussy, Jesus, I bet you're so fucking tight by the looks of it, my ring and middle finger begin their assault, pressing down vertically against your clit, you hum and your hips writhe against me fingers, slowly, pushing them, you like that, rubbing yourself against them, and when I see you through the glass I lose my mind, I see how me fingers get coated and damped in your wetness, and I love watching you get so worked up by that, I can feel me cock just getting harder by the second, it's hurting and it's a pulsing pain, but I bare with it just for you, because now I'm going to show you how exactly you're supposed to get fucked.

I spread open your pussy, pink and warm, swollen clit I pinch in between me fingers, and you hiss but you only get wetter, if I pinched for a little longer you were sure coming all over the table. I open me mouth to taste your warm and savory juices, I suck and kiss your clit, picking up with my tongue your wetness, you're going to cum so good, I can feel it building up, you're in for a ride, and you've just begun to climb up the roller coaster.

"Oh... that's soo good" You gasp and sigh, I let my two fingers twist inside your pussy, me knuckles rimming your walls slowly, the bumpy and hard skin of my fingers make you gently fuck yourself into them, while I watch you with my tongue lapping over your clit teasingly, just those gentle touches make your legs shake, and your walls to contract, you're wonderful, you behave well, your hands slowly crawling into me hair, pulling it gently, your little whimpers get me worked up and I have to put in the biggest effort to not palm meself, I want you to feel every inch of me.

"You feel so lovely, babe doll" This feels so right, you bite on my lower lip, pulling my flesh until it bleeds. You're a sucker for my accent, you really are, you enjoy hearing me voice, doesn't it relax you? Doesn't it turn you on? I want to know what it is... I want to feel what it is, your legs keep shaking and your body keeps getting stiffer, your lower abdomen making pressure, and your walls are closing around me fingers, I shake them inside you, your mouth falls open, my lips sucking your clit harder and your body arches until I feel your cunt losing up, feeling your release leaking out of that tiny little hole, I'm eager to taste it, I eat your pussy eagerly, you know I'm hungry for it, my mouth eating your pussy like a soft and warm bun, and you taste just as sweet, just as good as I imagined, I won't let you rest, I will keep you on the limit. I drag you forward, making you kiss me lips, "Do you taste that? Taste how sweet you are... taste how good I ate you"

"And you're gonna fuck me just as good?" Your hand sneaks in between me legs, you love how hard my dick is for you, it makes you feel so thrilled, makes you feel good about yourself, and it makes you feel hot.

"You'll just have to wait a little bit longer, I'm not done with you" I'm certain about something, you're a kinky little shit, and I know you want something like this, I bend you over the kitchen table, and you're just ready for it, arching your back, spreading your legs, you're not putting a fight, my hand kneads your ass like dough, and spanks it hard over and over again, "You precious little thing, are you going to do everything I tell you to do?"

"No" You state firmly, earning another smack in your ass.

"Tell me summat..." I push my hips against your dripping wet cunt, that's oozing for another smack, "How much do you want it?" You sigh, rubbing your ass against my cock, you're killing me, you better stop now, the friction, the warmth, your goddamn smell, "Answer me you fuckin' cunt" You giggle, you do love it.

"I want you so bad" You whisper, no, I don't like that.

"Not enough" The smacks you earn are getting harder to bear, but you enjoy them, and so do I, you masochistic little shit.

"I need you inside me, Alex... I can't wait any longer" You rock your hips against mine, humping your naked pussy against my bulge, "Please..." You whimper so sweetly, I can't handle it any longer, I take off your dress, and you're wearing nothing but your tall black heels, looking like a fuckin' hooker, but I bet that's what you like.

"You want it you fucking slut?" You keep whimpering and rubbing yourself on me jeans, I bet that you've stained them already, "Come here" I turn you around and kiss you deeply, I can feel your hands unbuttoning my shirt as fast as you can, even in the heat of the moment you don't break my shirt but I couldn't care less, I take your hands and make fists ripping it apart and throwing it away, you're even faster to take out my jeans and leaving me on my boxers, that's the one good thing about me, I can see how your eyes lit up as you see how hard me fat cock is for you, you bite your lower lip and I pull you back up from your knees.

Time for reminder number two, the settee, I pull you up, and you sit in my arm until I put you back to the ground gently, I have to let you know that I was here, I need you to know how good I am, no other man could please you like that, I pull your leg up while you hold yourself up with the other, your pussy is so fucking wet my cock slides inside you so easily, I can feel the electric shocks that run all over your body, "Hard, please" You whine, I'm going to show you what hard actually is.

My hips thrust inside you so roughly the settee moves out of place, your nails dig into the cushions as I keep railing your tight hole harder, and you scream like bloody murder, I hope your neighbors don't call the police, I hope they can see how hard you're getting your cunt fucked, I want everyone that walks by to hear you, "You wanted hard babe!" You moan and scream, and keep getting your pussy pounded like meat being beaten up to get it tender. I dig your head into the pillows.

"Don't... d-don't-" Don't what?

"I can't understand you, babe, can you repeat that for me?" You pant trying to catch your breath, and your legs are numbing up, and I can see they've lost some strength, "Do you want me to stop, because I can" As I saw you didn't make a move, I began to pull out but you stopped, digging your nails into my wrist.

"Don't stop for fucks sake" Now for the next one, I stay buried inside you like that, you keep trying to fuck yourself into me cock but I just won't allow it, I pick you up once more, and your legs around my torso, and you press your warm chest against mine, I lean back against the giant bookshelf next to your bedroom door, you hold on into the shelves for leverage while I drive my cock inside you, your pussy feels so tight I wish I could let this last forever, I'll make that pussy mine.

"You want more, babe?" You hum and gasp, yes of course you do, you're loving every single inch of me cock, "God you look so beautiful with your mouth opened like that," I lick your bottom lip, "And that little cunt of yours is so wet for me, you're just making things harder for me..." I pushed meself too hard inside you, the shelf shook, and something hard dropped to the ground but you ignored it, you've lost yourself in my touch, and I feel embarrassed for dropping something. Your inner animal wakes up as I throw you into your bed.

I crawl on top of you but you gather up your strength to flip me over, I didn't expect that, you've taken the lead and I want to see you lose control, you writhe your hips into mine, your eyes facing the roof, and your mouth wide open, your hair falling into your head, you looked possessed, but you had lost the power to think about what you were doing, "For fucks sake" If you keep moving like that, you're going to make this end sooner, and I've already planned everything out, I try to sit up but you hold me down, chocking me so hard that it's almost impossible to breathe for me, but I love that feeling, my head feels light, my vision is blurry, but I'm not going to give in to you, I already have, you have got to give into me.

I flip you over so harshly, your head almost slammed against your headboard, "Listen to me you fuckin' cunt" My harsh tone makes your core shake, "You ain't the one on command, now... I don't wanna repeat meself" It's arousing you, I can feel it in between your legs, you're shamelessly getting wetter, "Don't make me repeat meself again" You love to play with me, I see that naughty little smile curling into your lips.

"You already did" You like to pull on my hair, don't you? And you will pay for that.

"Don't fuck with me" Your eyebrows push together and your little smirk makes me go mad.

"You know I love to" Love? You "love to"? Does this mean that you might love me? Even just a tiny bit?

"You do, huh?" I begin to rock my hips against yours, slowly, passionately, like a slow and steaming dance, I see your fingers grasping the sheets making hard fists, "You don't know what you've gotten yourself into" And I'm not lying, you really don't.

"Show me Alex" You whisper to me those three words so sexily, charmingly, I've already lost my mind.

"I'll show you how a real man fucks you, babe," Your oozing with the thrill, "I'll show you how to behave... you little fuckin' cunt" Your mouth opens to moan and I take advantage of it to spit inside your mouth, both my hands chocking you, "You're mine... all mine"

"I'd love to" You whimper, "Make me yours please... please just do, I want you Alex" You keep asking me that with your little weak voice, your body that speaks to me, I can read it so easily, it tells me that I'm doing exactly what you want me to do, it shivers, and it quivers, and it sweats, it screams, it tightens, it stiffens, in your eyes I can feel your fast heartbeat in my fingers, and it goes just as fast as mine, my body against yours sounds like I'm butchering you, your neighbors must think I'm holding a knife against your throat, but it does go as deep, it does penetrate and it hurts you in the most magnificently and pleasingly way, your eyes red shot, and your voice gets quieter, shit, I'm losing you, I am.

"Wake up, wake up!" I scream to you, my hand patting your cheek lightly, your pulse is barely detectable, I slap you across your face and you gain back consciousness in the blink of an eye, I didn't want to do it, I would never do that, but when your lips curl into your devilish smile, I know see how you really are.

"Do that again Al" You tease me, I love it when you call me like that, no one ever really does that anymore, is that my new nickname? Al? You're going to remember me forever babe, I hope you do, and tomorrow when you wake up, I'm still going to be there, I'll make your breakfast, and I'll do anything you ask me to do, even dishes, you won't pick them up.

"You're mad, woman" You giggle, and you try to pick yourself up, I can't let you, I did knock you over completely, my hand very gently caresses your cheeks, it's red and fragile, it must burn or at least sting, "Let me do the kissing for now, babe"

"And the fucking too perhaps?" You smile at me, your cute little button nose is flushed, your cheeks and chest are red, your nipples are hard, it turned you on to this point, you're dark, what else are you not telling me? "I'm crazy about you" Those words will echo in my head for the rest of my days.

I take no rush into fucking you, I'm not just a guy you'll sleep with, I'm your man, and I wanted to make sweet sweet love to you, but you won't let me, you like it rough, hard, fast, I don't want this moment to be over, at least not for me yet, you can cum as many times as you like, and like the real man I am, I am profoundly true to the saying 'Happy wife, happy life'

I hug you close to me, that's the least I can do, if I'm going to lose control, let my heart tell yours how much I love you, even if you dump me like a puppy, I'll stay loyal, I'll follow your scent everywhere, I will forever remember the scent of your vanilla hair, your Dior perfume, and the golden necklace around your neck, I counted 15 moles on your body, even the one in between your legs, my hands grab your hair into fists as I pound you harder and harder, you're losing your mind and I'm losing control again, your bed squeaks so loudly and the headboards slams against the wall so harshly, but I don't stop I can't stop now, I can feel you, I can feel it coming, you bring yourself to an end again, the palm of my hand slowly adds pressure on your lower belly, to ease you up, the bed keeps squeaking so annoyingly, and even after we ignored the several warnings, the legs of your bed broke and your headboard fell to the ground, we both break into laughter.

"Oh God!" Your little laughter is so bubbly and funny, it makes me smile and feel so ashamed at the same time.

"I'm so sorry, I'll pay for that" You rub the tip of your little nose against mine, and look at me tenderly, your fingers caressing the back of my head, if only you could see the hearts in my eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous... you know, I've never broken a bed before... you're not going to be easy to forget batman, I hope you don't disappear into the night soon" I'll get you off first, but there's one thing you should be certain of.

"I never intended to" Was that too much? Sorry if that was too much, maybe it was... maybe it wasn't, I'm having a hard time reading your face right now, you're looking at me very seriously, I don't want to get my hopes up, but you're killing me, I should focus now, finish the deed, "But I'm still sorry about your bed though"

"Shut the fuck up, and keep fucking me" Whatever she wants, whatever she wants... You're already the song on the radio I got stuck in me head.

I pull us closer to the safest edge of your bed, toss your legs over me shoulders, and bend them over, I lean over and pound the living shit out of you, I was balls deep inside you, and you like it, so much that you dig your nails into my back, scratching my skin until red and bloody, I don't care how much it hurts, leave as many marks as you want, the deeper the better, my hair falls over my forehead and you make the kindest gesture, your brush it back with your long nails, even if by now I'm sweating like a pig you keep bringing me closer to you, I can feel the light tingles of you breathing in me face, of you biting down on my golden chain making laugh, making me go insane, I keep pushing harder, and you throw your head back, almost letting go of me, but I won't let you, I'll send you to heaven if you want, but don't leave without me.

"Oh, Alex... I'm so close, please..." Your eyeballs turn into beautiful glossy pearls, and you crumble down into pieces as you coat my cock in your warm release, I can feel your walls pushing it out and running down your cozy hole, I stay buried inside you, watching your mouth fall open and choke out your last orgasms, they spin in my head like a tiny little music box, "You're next, Alex... you can't end things like that... you know how much I want it, you already did so much for me" Wait, what are you doing?

Your hands run up my chest, and you massage my shoulders, "You really want me to breed you, you greedy little fuck?" Your hands go down and you massage my balls, Jesus, you really do, I bet you're not even aware of what you're doing to me... or are you?

"Yes Alex, use it... use me" You know exactly what you're doing, I drag my cock out just rimming your walls once again, I better start warming you up, but you don't want that now, you're thinking about me, about what I want, you deserve a little star on your forehead for being so caring, a man and its needs, it's nothing compared to your needs, and I bet you needed someone to get you off correctly.

"You're mine... I want you to say it" I promised to you since the beginning, I won't stop until you're mine, "Are you mine?" I look at you with my big eyes full of hope for you to say it, please tell me now.

"I'm yours Alex" My lips taste your mouth, your tongue dancing with mine. You're made of the sweetest poison

God, I remember that time I was watching through your window, that night you were laying down on your settee, your hand was vigorously and shamelessly rubbing your clit in circles, fucking your little cunt with two fingers, rocking yourself into your touch with the desperate need to rub yourself against something hard, just like you were rubbing yourself against me hard cock. You keep squeezing my balls, your hands sneak into my ass squeezing it gently to keep me going, you love having me right at the edge of ending it all, I can't keep it up for another moment anymore, you're big stary eyes, your little sparkles, your touches, the smell, the noises, you're begging for me cum, I slam my fist next to your head, dragging your body up as I push myself deep inside you and coat your walls in me creamy cum, you're pure bliss as I feel us both coming together, a gorgeous after bliss surrounding us, you have this certain smell, a certain heat, and you're just so beautiful with your cheeks flushed like that.

"Let me clean you up, it's me mess, just lay down" You nod your head, laying gently on your broken bed to not let it crash completely into the ground, you point your finger telling me where the toilet is, and I rush there to grab a few paper towels and clean your skin softly, soothingly, I can feel you relaxing, I can smell my body in yours, the smell of my cologne, your almond oil, and your pheromones. And when I'm done you grab my hand and I can see you thanking me for even that tiny gesture, that's nothing you should be thanking me for, that's the least.

"Now the question is... where are we going to sleep?" We? You want me to sleep here, with you? You're not quicking me out, or at least not yet, this is my chance and I would be lying if I didn't say I was the luckiest man alive.

"Maybe the settee would be a nice place" Your gorgeous olive green settee, corduroy, soft, and marked, I can see you smiling at the space in between your two cushions, I see your giant ivory bookshelf, another mark. I lean forward to pick up what I had dropped when we assaulted the shelf, but it wasn't one of the thousands of vinyl records you've got organized by letter, it's a case... a guitar case. I didn't know that about you. Tonight made me realize that you're a hat full of surprises, the deeper I search the more I find.

"Want some food?... I've got some nuggets and fries... and-" You close your fridge and turn to look at me, "Oh, you know how to play?" I nod my head, trying to stay as noble and humble, you smack your hand into your forehead, "Of course, you do," You sigh and I can hear you whispering to yourself, "Stupid question"

"And do you?" You hum as a yes, interesting, I bet you do, but why do you hide your guitar like that? As if it was buried in this beautiful world with music, colors, words, and meanings.

"I did..." You turn on your air frier and toss some nuggets and fries in there, I'm so happy that you're not like one of those crazy keto girls, you pour us some fresh orange juice as you keep talking to me, "But you know, my mom always told me 'that's just a hobby', and when I moved here I hoped to find some people that wanted to share this fire to try to make some music... but I never managed to, and then I just gave up"

"That's a bit sad, love... you shouldn't have" You lean over the kitchen countertop, amazing reminder, I see you smiling over the edge of your shoulder, but you turn to look at me as you pick up some of our clothes, and then you run into my shirt and you decided to wear it as your sex shirt, you look beautiful, "I mean, being a music producer and making it was hard, but it was even harder to follow something I'm not passionate about" That's what's wrong, you didn't follow your passion, that's what you're missing, "Have you got any songs?" Your face lights up but it quickly slips away, and the redness crawls into your face, What? I'm trying to help you, I want you to be happy with me and with your life.

"I can't accept that" You quickly answered, your head said no but I know you want this, it's served on a silver platter, why can't you let your reserved self accept this?

"Accept what? I haven't said anything, I just asked if you could sing for me... I know you have a lovely voice" You laugh sarcastically at me, leaning over to fetch your guitar, and searching for a notebook on your vinyl shelf.

You sit next to me, legs crossed, guitar on your lap, naked with just my shirt on, your knees holding your notebook as you search for the perfect page for me, you make sure that your guitar is tuned before you start and your thumb softly strums down the notes, making a lovely rhythm, and only two chords, C and Em, your voice sounds like a million angels, and I feel like a lost man after serving the purgatory, your voice is so hauntingly beautiful, your lyrics are very forward, and I'm happy to know through your lyrics how truly you feel about things, you don't search for big words you choose the right ones, you're bold, and you're wise, you try to put an end to your complicated feelings, your questions, everything, all in one song with a few strums and two simple chords.

"That's all," You say putting your guitar next to you, I'm blown away, "I know I suck"

"No!" I answer immediately, "You don't... I think it's beautiful"

"You're just saying that because..." No, I'm not just saying that because I want to fuck you, no not at all, don't you ever believe that.

"I'm saying that because I think you've got it, and you don't want to quit everything to live your dream, I know it must be difficult... but I'm being truthful, you've got summat and we can work on it" Why do you keep saying no with your head? Stop that, if I could rip it off right now... no, don't think that, "Come on, I'm not takin' a piss" You break into laughter with me, throwing your head back, you jump up the moment your oven dings and you run to flip the nuggets and the fries, putting 10 more minutes into the oven.

"Takin' a piss" You laugh to yourself, "Well, if you're not takin' a piss" You imitate my accent and it sounds so silly when you try to do it, "I'm not accepting your help Alex, you have your own thing, and if I'm going to do this, I have to do it on my own," Perfect, I'll take that.

"Why don't you go to Panda's next Saturday? They're looking for some people to play some music, any style, any theme, you can do whatever you want... I'm sure everyone will love you, and you know, there's always someone on the hunt for summat fresh!" I see you thinking about it, I'm not saying I'll help you, I'm just offering the start of something great for you, this is it for you. And yes, I am going to get you the best deal you could ever imagine, but first I have to run things through your notebook, I secretly hide your baby pink notebook, your initials written with a black sharpie, and I stash it in between the cushions.

"I'll think about it" I'll think about it. I hope you do go, I can't wait to see you singing for everyone, you will charm them, "Dinner is served me lord" You're also a dork, just like me, imagine all of the jokes we can make together, they'll be endless.

"My! Thank you, very kind" Dinousor nuggets with a side of fries, the melancholic feeling of your childhood must be present every single day, you squeeze some Ketchup into my plate, squirting into my chest.

"Whoops! Let me clean that for you" You lean in, sticking out your tongue to lick off the ketchup from my chest, "Eat up!" I'm in love with you, "And then we'll get on with that" You look down, and I do the same, shite, look what you do to me, you make me get so hard like a little boy hitting puberty.

"Bugger" I whisper under my breath, you heard it since you giggled, "You know, I think the food can wait right?" You push your plate away and you immediately crawl on top of me, kissing my lips so tenderly, caressing my chin with your fingers, and enjoying the texture of the little hairs that are growing on me cheeks.

"Mmm ketchup" You laugh into the kiss, and our teeth collide accidentally, and us by casualty, "You taste yummy"

"Imagine yourself" You blush hard, something tells me no one has ever made you feel that good about yourself, and that's because no one will see you with the same eyes as me, you're my girl, you will be, I try to flip you but instead you stop me, have I done something wrong?

"We're not going to break this couch, I love this fucking couch, you understand that?" You firmly said, your eyes threatening to kill me if I do as such, "I'm on top" I squeeze your ass tightly biting my bottom lip.

"Whatever she wants... but if I broke the bed it's 90% your fault," You scoffed and laughed as I peeled my shirt from your body gently, making sure I don't break more buttons so you could keep it, "Because you feel so good, and maybe you could be on top, but I know sooner or later... you'll be the one giving into me" Quite intense, wasn't I? Fuck!

"But for now, it's me who calls the shots, so if we break this... it will be 98% your fault, how do you like me now, smarty?" You secure your arms around my shoulder, I pull you in, chest on chest, as I give myself a few more strokes before you slowly slide down my cock, moaning so gently, I like feeling every part of you, I can see how your body twists and shivers when I hit that sweet spot.

"How do you like that?" I rub it in your face, how good I'm making you feel, "I guess one round just wasn't quite enough for you," You start humping on my cock slowly, you're just teasing me again, but I enjoy feeling your body move against mine, your little cries and moans, everything piles up in me, I know this time I'll enjoy you, picture you going in slow motion, I can feel your rapid heartbeat, I can feel the heat wave that raises and wrap us in, I can feel your body begging to mine to stay as close as possible, because that's what your body and my body want, we smile, we laugh, and I fall deeper in a hole full of love for you, and I'm no donkey to use the dirt to get out, I rather stay buried deep inside you just like now. Your body is tired, it's been two hours since your legs worked for the last time, and you beg for more into my ear.

"You're so good, I-I don't understand" What don't you understand, babe? Your fingers intertwine in the back of my head, as you writhe your hips to mine, our bodies dancing together so wonderfully, your hips move in circles against mine.

"Neither of those assholes could ever come close to me, I'm a real man..."

"And you've got the size" You flirt with me so shamelessly, your walls keep dragging me in, your head falls into my shoulder, you're giving into me, fading into me, and it's me time now, I finally get to give you what I wanted since the beginning, make sweet and honest love to you, my hands on your thighs I keep driving your body against mine, I gently bounce you on me lap just to get you to stay up again, you're eyes are shutting, your mouth is falling open again.

"Look at me" I order, and you do what I tell you to do, you look at me towards your end, I hope you can read it in my eyes, I hope you can feel how warm the flesh is, how my eyes, my brain, and heart have no space for anyone else but you, how mad you've made me, I'm obsessed, and I'm not going to lie to myself about it anymore, I don't want to just use you, I hope you can see that, but if you can't, I hope this is enough for you to understand it, my eyes big and dilated for you, my body feels so stiff, it's overwhelming, "You're so beautiful, love"

"If you keep calling me that, you're gonna make me fall in love, Alex"

So I'll say it every single day for the rest of my life, you feel so good on me, your body fits into mine so perfectly, and I'm so close, and so are you, the flesh is tender, the flowers bloom, the sun rises and it's heat rains all over the world, and you and I bond together for one last time before your body crashes into mine, I make a mess, but that's a bit on purpose, "Ah, yes" You sigh into my ear as you let it rest on top of mine. I have the chance to clean your body once more, to clean you up with care and love, my touch is so gentle your body fills with goosebumps, "You really don't have to Alex" You put your hand on my hand, and I freeze, should I stop? Am I making you uncomfortable?

"Sorry... if I'm doing too much" Your eyebrows push together and before I can get away you drag me back by my wrist and smile at me. What do you think of me?

"No, I'm just..." You sigh, you're troubled by your thoughts, "Not used to the 'aftercare' part that's all, you know, sex for us girls... it's not like we see it in films, or read in books, maybe I don't have that magic to turn a beast into a prince, and... I just I dunno, I don't feel weird... you make me feel special, normally, they just leave" Are you... maybe falling for me?

I smile at you, my thumb grazes your cheek softly, "I'm a man, and I'm messy but I just don't like doing that there's an attraction, and if we have sex, unless you ask me to leave I'll leave" I put away the paper towels in the trash, and when I come back I find you waiting for me with my shirt on your body.

"Well, if that's the case" My heart pumps one thousand miles per hour, I feel I'm entering a trance, about to puke my intestines out if you ask me to leave, "You don't mind staying?"

Fuck yeah! "Not at all" I try to keep me cool but I just can't, my heart betraying as I lay down with you.

After we finally had the chance to close our eyes, the sun peeks through the curtains of your windows, the sky painted orange and ocean blue, you smile at me, and you get back up from our little love nest that was the settee, you're quick to find the vinyl with the song we were listening together, the song we kissed to, the perfect song to watch the sunrise.

"Come with me!" I've never heard you so excited before, you run to the kitchen and fetch my boxers from the ground, and I'm a bit troubled by the thought of me wearing my jeans with no underwear but I do nevertheless because I would kill to see you like that every single day.

I cover my body with my coat, and you grab my hand, we run out of your house, and we go through this tiny little white gate, into a garden covered in green chasmophyte, that's the place where the flowers bloom in little boxes of dirt, the perfect place to see the sun, the perfect place to hide, to dream in, it's wonderful, you pull out a chair for me in this old rusty table, you find place to put your music and we listen to Call It Fate Call It Karma as the sun rises from the horizon, I pull you to my lap, wrapping your legs around my arms and hum the song to your ear, the birds are chirping, and the sun warms us from the once oh so cold night.

"You're a lovely singer," You say to my ear, I was never one to watch sunrises, I haven't done that since I was 17, and now with my busy life, I finally get to taste this little piece of paradise that you've given me.

"Not as good as you, bunny" You kiss my nose with a big smile, and I take out from my jeans a box of cigarettes and my old zippo, you set on my smoke, and you love to play with my zippo as your hands run through my naked skin, you love playing with fire, don't you? I just hope someday, you don't get burned in the fire of my love.

A/N

Anon, I want to kiss you. You don't know for how long I've been trying to figure out how to write this chapter, I had to watch You again but it was totally worth it, so thank you!

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Days Eleven and Twelve

The Different Beatle Arrivals outside apple are interesting to me. 

Ringo: arrives first, in the passenger’s seat, has a chummy remark for his driver, a cheeky grin for the camera, and a kind nod for the scruffs. 

John and Yoko: arrive second, in the back of their on-brand, white thing, with no acknowledgement of anyone (and Yoko accidentally goes for the front door then changes directions when she sees John going around the side)

George: drives himself, glances over his shoulder, locks his car door, and goes in. Again, no acknowledgement. 

Paul: walks, studiously ignores the camera, bestows a condescending nod at the scruffs. (shouldn’t be sexy. Is. what else is new?)

Everything the scruffs said was perfection. Where are their parents? Who is taking care of them? Do they not go to school?

So glad for the boys that they took a day to hide from the cameras. I hope they all traded meaningful items of clothing and meditated and circle jerked and told each other how brilliant they were. (Oh gosh. Can you all imagine a circle-jerk plus yoko? Her and Paul furiously compete over who can hold John's eye contact?)

Short queens making the beatles look like child-labor supporters. 

Look at that cute little impish grin. What do we think? Did George and John actually have a punch-up? George Martin went out of his way on at least two occasions to say that they did, in fact, come to blows. But I didn’t see any evidence on John the next day, and they both seem extremely comfortable joke-fighting here, where I don’t think they would if they’d real-fought a week or so ago. I don’t know, I think it’s very up for debate. But if they did, I actually think it would be a testament to the importance of the John and George dynamic. We always say how it shows how much John must’ve cared about Paul to sprint down the road and jump his fence over a missed recording session. What would it say about how much John must’ve cared about George if he punched him when he said he’d quit?

Either way, their *meaningful* rendition of “You are my sunshine” is heart-melting.

Yoko, the og sad beige mom.

Add juggling to Ringo’s talents in his cabaret/circus act with Paul.

Every old man obsessed with “tough, acerbic Lennon” needs to have “My rock and roll finger is bleeding, my rock and roll finger is hurt” played on a loop in their heads every time they open their mouths until they shut up. 

Paul, why are you literally strong-arming Glyn into the studio? This man does not know how to touch another person.    

Maybe they kept Magic Alex around just for laughs? It’s good to hear anyway, that they are fully aware they’re being conned. 

The way George and Paul just in sync jump into their old choreography. 

The way they could really have just gone off and done their own things while Glyn finishes setting up. But the idea just doesn’t occur to them. Why would they want to be anywhere else, doing anything else, with anyone else? 

I feel like John right now because I’m like enjoying Paul’s sexy drumming face and then the camera switches and I’m like Oh Yoko you’re so pretty. And is this another *meaningful* cover? I’m going to have to make a list of all these and go through after I’m done with this and see which ones I think actually have a double meaning. “My baby left me” by Crudup. My main evidence here being Yoko’s Jim Halpert expression as John’s singing this at Paul.

How to get Paul to stop messing with your shit. A demonstration by Ringo Starr. 

John is Not having Paul reading their bad press for the cameras.

And today, it’s John that needs a little Ringofection. I wonder if it had anything to do with “Aaaaall I want is youuuuuuuuu. Everything has got to be the way you want it toooooooooo.”

George looking at Ringo’s jumping jacks. I agree. 

“Richard Rogers has got nothing on this boy. . . . Ah, sometimes, John, I don’t know.” “I just make it up as I go along.” “Oh, is that how you do it?” Again. He’s being silly, but he really does think you’re the smartest boy in the whole wide world, John. I hope you know that. (he definitely does not know that.)  

ICONIC. One of my favorite moments of the whole series. Not a glance at each other. Perfectly synchronized.

Any particular significance with Dicky Murdock that anyone knows about?  

Another favorite moment. The absolute marshmallow softness. Oh to have footage of Paul teaching John guitar chords on one of their childhood beds.

Not going to say it again, but boy am I thinking it.

Someone needs to make a compilation of all the times someone’s been caught giving John and Paul a WTF look. 

[thealexchen]

Big appeal of LIS franchise is the soundtrack for me, was curious which of the games in the franchise have your personal soundtracks? Either generally or like fav to least fav whatever works (:

I LOVE this question. Let me get this out of the way first, I think LiS has the best collection of licensed songs in probably any piece of media, ever. It's such a distinct, special mix of fitting lyrics and memorable moods that these songs set. No matter how many genres they go past indie folk, it all still feels distinctly Life is Strange.

I still think the montage set to "Red" by Mt. Wolf in Life is Strange 2, episode 2 is one of the most underrated in the entire series. The cinematography is unmatched, especially its use of fake depth of field and shaky cam. These montages are sorely missing from the later games!!

"Obstacles" to me feels like the theme song of the series. I really wish the Bae ending wasn't as half-baked as it was, but it fits for the ending. I also love its original usage in the ending montage of episode 1. You can really feel LiS's influences of shows like Twin Peaks (which again, is sorely missing from DE) to mimick these TV montages, and it adds depth to this small setting by showing what the other characters are getting up to and noticing/not noticing the strange snow at the end of the episode.

From BtS, I love the acoustic version of "Taking You There" during the neighborhood scene and Rachel and Chloe's first kiss. It perfectly captures that youthful nervousness, teenage elation, and fragile joy when everything seems perfect, just before the plot plunges into much more intense territory.

From TC, I was disappointed how most of the licensed soundtracks were relegated to Moments of Calm with looping shots or background music, so I really liked "Don't Matter" by Kings of Leon for actually playing during a fun moment. It also adds characterization and depth because it was one of Alex and Gabe's favorite records, and it's beautiful to see them reconnect and be silly together like no time had passed. On the flip side "Thank You" by Dido was used so well for encapsulating the tension, nausea, and dread of Alex desperately trying to drown out her father and brother's arguing in the flashback, and how tragic her broken home life had become since her mother's death.

I wish more people still talked about Captain Spirit because I think DN was absolutely brilliant for making a free sandbox game about Chris before LiS2. I also think they were geniuses for incorporating "Death with Dignity" by Sufjan Stevens throughout the episode: the gentle instrumental opener and different verses at different points, but only if you took the time to explore and piece together Emily's backstory. For example, once you discover the box of photos, then the second verse "I forgive you, Mother..." plays. It's a gentle and melancholic tune that reminds me of Chris himself.

Finally, nothing is quite as iconic as Max stepping out into the hallway, putting in her earbuds, and the title screen emerging with "To All of You" by Syd Matters playing. It's such a perfectly unassuming welcome to a game that will proceed to hurl you upside the head with feels.

Other songs I want to shout-out:

"Kids Will be Skeletons" by Mogwai in LiS1

"Mountains" by Message to Bears in LiS1

"D.A.N.C.E" by Justice in LiS2

"Blister in the Sun" by Violent Femmes (covered by mxmtoon) in TC

"Through the Cellar Door" by Lanterns on the Lake in BtS

"A Hole in the Earth" by Daughter in BtS

"I Don't" by Koda in BtS

"Santa Monica Dream" by Angus & Julia Stone in LiS1

Thank you SO much for asking!!

[moonlightmornings]

hannah's MCMG fic recs 💫

this is really just for my own record/archive lol. there's not really a lot of fics for them so this will only be a one-parter

big shoutout to machinegunera/HyeHowAreYa (@yujirokushida) on ao3 because they're awesome (and also bc they've done the heavy lifting for this fandom on there 😭)... and also shoutout @punk-o-ween for making me CRAZY <3

08 25 06 by machinegunera | 30k words | teen+ Chris and Alex figure out who they are, only took them 17 years to do it.

honey overflows by machinegunera | 4.4k words | explicit Chris has some questions for Alex.

i want you with me/everywhere i go by neoptolemos | 4.1k words | teen+ “What will it take for you to come with me?” Alex asks. Chris stares at him. His brain might be completely offline. Rebooting might take a while. He is very sorry for the inconvenience... The boys are leaving TNA.

always by your side by machinegunera | 5k words | teen+ Chris has double knee surgery and it throws Chris and Alex's relationship for a loop.

a motor city christmas by machinegunera | 8.2k words | general Kevin Nash runs a humble, local indie promotion out of an old warehouse in Detroit. Money is tight, but he's determined to make it through the holidays, especially when he finds an unlikely friend to spend it with.

all roads lead to motor city by slapfool | 4.6k words | teen+ Alex Shelley sometimes wonders 'what if?'. What if the Motor City Machine Guns never reformed - how much further along would his career be? Would he have made it...what if he's been held back?

When he wakes up into a strange day he doesn't recognize, the answer turns out to be something else entirely.

what do you see? by believethat | 1.6k words | teen+ Alex doesn't realize that when he's talking down on himself it absolutely crushes Chris. Chris intends to do something about it this time.

pepperminty by machinegunera | 4.5k words | explicit Alex is always cranky on Christmas morning and Chris has had enough.

BONUS: (series) hell michigan by slapfool | 17.8k works | teen+

The MCMG Vigilante AU collection. (All three works)