#I wonder if alex was the one who first put that idea in his head

[javelinbk]

“John wanted to be with a woman. But he needed as well very, very much a friend. He needed a male friend. And my opinion is that Yoko, he managed somehow to combine both. He had a fear for pretty women running after him. Yoko was not very pretty, uh, at all, and he replaced a male in his life plus a female.”

Alexis Mardas, All You Need Is Love, Peter Brown and Steven Gaines (2024)

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 6

Kara leaves the office early that evening, making time to swing by her sister's house on her way home. Kelly opens the door this time, and she can't quite hide her surprise at seeing her sister-in-law on her doorstep.

"Kara! Hi!" Kelly graciously moves in for a hug, which Kara receives as warmly as she can. "What are you doing here? Come on in."

Kara steps inside, and hovers in the small foyer. "Rescue mission," she says simply, lifting Esme's phone.

Kelly's eyes go wide, and she swiftly turns to call up the stairs. "Esme, honey! Come downstairs, someone is here to see you!"

There's a shuffle of movement upstairs, before a door clicks open and somber feet thud down the steps. Esme's features are duller than Kara's ever seen them, and though dry now, her eyes are red from crying.

"Hi Aunt Kar--"

Kara lifts the cellphone with a smile, and heart heart lifts as Esme immediately cheers at the sight of it.

"AUNT KARA!!!" Esme pelts down the remaining stairs and throws herself into Kara's arms. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Kara laughs, giving Esme a tight squeeze. "You're welcome, hun." She smoothes the hair from Esme's beaming face. "I promised, didn't I?"

Esme agrees with an enthusiastic nod. She swipes to open the phone, but the screen stays dark.

"I'm gonna go charge it," Esme announces. She gives Kara another hug. "Thank you!"

Then she's racing back up the stairs, bedroom door slamming shut in her enthusiasm. Kara shares a look with Kelly.

"Thank you," her sister-in-law echoes. "She's been torn up about it all day."

Kara nods. "I figured she would be. I wanted to make sure I got it back to her as soon as I could."

"I'm surprised the venue found it... I admit I wasn't holding out much hope."

"About that...." Kara hesitates. "Is Alex here?"

Kelly shakes her head. "Not for another hour." She studies Kara appraisingly. "Everything okay?"

"Just.... complicated."

For a long moment, neither of them say anything, the silence stretching thin between them. Kelly is the first to break it.

"You know, Kara..." she says carefully. "I know we've never really been close. But you know I'm here if you ever need anything, right?"

Kara swallows thickly, then gives a deliberate nod. "I know."

She knows Kelly is a kind, wonderful person. Kelly makes Alex happy, and if Kara weren't so busy, maybe they would have bonded by now.

Looking at Kelly now, Kara finds herself wondering... why not start today?

"The venue didn't find it." The admission comes short and quick, but as soon as it's out, Kara feels her shoulders relax. "Lena did."

Kelly blinks. "You mean... *the* Lena?"

"I thought she would send an assistant to drop it off, but-- she didn't?"

"What, you mean... she delivered it herself?" Kelly guesses, voice low to keep Esme from overhearing.

Kara nods. "And now I kind of... have a date?"

She watches a myriad of expressions flicker across Kelly's features, but before she can explain further, her sister-in-law settles on the most vital part of Kara's confession.

"A date with..."

"Yeah."

Another journey plays out on Kelly's face, nodding as she processes Kara's words.

"I guess," Kara continues, "I was hoping Alex might talk me out of it?"

At that, Kelly's gaze sharpens. "Why would you want that?"

"Because it's a ridiculous idea?!" Kara scoffs. "I mean... she's-- and I..."

Kelly shrugs at her. "It might be a little unorthodox, but she's not a child. She's an adult capable of making her own decisions. And it seems like she's made a choice to get to know you better."

"But...."

"Is that really so horrible?"

Put so directly, Kara can't truly convince herself that it is. "But..."

"It's one evening," Kelly continues gently. "Maybe it goes somewhere, maybe it doesn't. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't let yourself enjoy a night with a woman who is clearly into you."

Kara flushes hot, and she quickly scrambles to correct Kelly's observation.

"Kara, she found a way to not only notify you about the phone, but delivered it herself and *literally* asked you on date." Kelly shoots her a surprisingly stern look.

"Don't do her or yourself a disservice by pretending it's something other than it is."

Resisting for only a moment longer, Kara soon deflates. Kelly's right, and they both know it.

"So what do I do?"

"Enjoy the evening," Kelly responds firmly. "I mean it."

Kara nods, swallowing thickly. "Right."

Kelly's features creases into a smile. "Sorry. Not exactly the outcome you were looking for. But I mean it. You deserve a good time with someone who seems genuinely interested."

In the end, all Kara can do is offer a weak smile. "Thanks." She clears her throat. "I should get going. But... thank you. Truly."

Kelly nods with a sweet smile. "Any time."

---

Fancy, it turns out, really is unhelpful.

Kara ends up an hour later with five different dresses laid out on her bed, chewing her lip in frustration. In the end, Kara falls back on bad habits, and calls her sister.

"Kara?" Alex answers, concern plain in her tone. "Everything okay?"

"I need help," she responds. "I mean yes, I'm fine, but I need help."

"Okaaaaay... what's up?"

Kara trades her worried lip for a cuticle, still glaring at the pile of clothes on her bed. "I have date."

There's a beat of silence before Alex's brain clicks around the information. "You what?? Since when?"

"Ask Kelly," Kara returns distractedly, returning to the topic at hand. "I don't know what to wear."

"Since when did you talk to... what--?" Alex sputters for a moment, then takes a moment to reorient herself. "Okay. Outfit. Fine. Okay, so... what kind of date is it?"

"Dinner."

"Casual?"

"She said fancy. Whatever that means to me." Kara grumbles. "Whatever that means."

"Okayy... so, flexible fancy. Do you know where?"

"Nuh uh."

There's a pause then, as Alex considers Kara's dilemma as thoughtfully as she did a year ago.

"So something nice, maybe upscale. Well, I'm sure you have options that fit the bill."

Kara nods. "Too many."

Across the line, Kara can almost hear Alex ease into a smile. "Well, then it comes down to what *you* want to wear."

"That's why I called, Alex, I don't *know*--"

"What would you feel most confident in? And, what kind of reaction are you looking for?"

The question takes Kara aback for a long moment. She imagines Lena would appreciate whatever Kara shows up in, but strangely, that isn't enough. Not in the face of the desire that still lingered from the soft kiss that had brushed against her cheek that afternoon.

"Honestly...?"

Alex hums. "Yeah?"

"I want her to wonder what it'd look like on the floor."

"....oh." Alex's response sounds thoughtful, but Kara's hackles rise in defense.

"Do *not* tease me," she says sharply.

"I'm not, I promise. Just surprised." Alex takes a breath to say something, but releases it as she chooses a different direction. "Do you still have that dress with the bateau neckline, with the pleats? The peach one?"

Kara nods into the phone, eyeing the garment where it sits in the pile, second from the bottom. "Uh huh."

"That one."

"You think?"

"Trust me," Alex assures her.

Kara does.

[lcriedlastnight]

Y/n asks Oscar for help in order to get Lando to fall in love with her, but y/n breaks her heart in the process, realizing that she loved Oscar the entire time

ohh okay anon! your mind is literally brilliant. also i'm not sure if you wanted lando to break her heart or not but that's what i did, kinda!

tw: fem!reader, kinda arsehole lando again, oscar pines hee hee, lnk if you want me to add anything. ignore any mistakes can’t i cba proofreading rn!

w/c: 1.5k

"oscccc" you sing as you skip into the mclaren hospitality. the look on your face lets oscar know that he most definitely will not like whats coming next. oscar sings your name back to you in the same tone that makes you laugh at him.

"i need your help!" you ask sweetly, plopping yourself down next to oscar on the couch he was resting on. your feet come to rest in his lap as you give him your best puppy eyes.

"don't give me those eyes. you haven't even asked me yet." oscar says although he cannot hold back his own smile.

"i'm sure you know how much i like lando? alex says it's pretty obvious." you start, a little bit nervous now with your words. speaking of your words, it is like oscar is stabbed in the chest as you confirm your affections towards his teammate. what he would do to be lando right now, oscar is never usually envious but this is so much different. the australian had an inking of suspicion that you liked lando but he did not know for sure so he could gaslight himself into thinking that it was all in his head and that you were just really friendly with the tanned boy.

oscar's mouth feels like it is full of cotton as he wills his brain to generate a response that is not just oscar confessing his love for you.

"uh yeah, yeah i may have heard something about that."

you blush a little at oscar's words a little embarrassed about how many people know about this apparently obvious crush you had on lando. you clear your throat.

"right, well. you know lando quite well right? you surely do because you spend so much time with him. i was wondering if you could maybe put in a good word for me?" you practically beg oscar. the boy seriously thinks he is going to die from heartbreak. you were coming to him to ask him to put in a good word? him? who has been in love with you since you had first arrived in paddock. what kind of karma was thing? was oscar really that horrible in his past life?

oscar copies you and clears his throat too. "sure, i'll say to him after free practise." oscar offers. he so badly wants to be one of those people who will not let you have anyone else if he cannot have you, he wants to be that person so badly right now. but he is not. all he wants is to see you happy and if that was not with him, then he would just have to make do with that. the way you squeal in response to his offer makes him want to kill himself right there and then. okay maybe he was being a little dramatic but his mind was already thinking about having to watch you every race weekend, hanging off of lando's arm. oh god he would have to retire from f1 in his second year.

you skip away again as oscar is stuck in his mind. he has never felt this depressed in his entire life he thinks. like his thoughts summoned him, lando comes padding over. you could not be far then, oscar surmises.

"hey, man." lando greets as he sits where you were just sitting moments ago. oscar just decides to do it now and get it over and done with, waiting until after free practise might actually kill him off. he would rather just say to lando then he could get it out of his mind and concentrate on getting you out of his mind.

"hey, i've gotta ask you something." oscar says, his heart hammering in his chest. he has no idea why. a part of his is praying he rejects you, in a nice way, of course. then maybe he will not have to retire his promising racing career.

unbeknown to both mclaren drivers you were lingering around, listening in on their conversation.

lando cocks his head in questioning, silently telling oscar to continue and oscar does exactly that.

he utters your name. "she wanted me to put in a good word for her, if you know what i mean." oscar tries to make it lighthearted and not act like one single sentence shattered his heart into a thousand pieces and the only girl who held the glue to piece it back together was longing after a man who was near enough the complete opposite from him.

lando smirks. "oh yeah, i heard she has a thing for me." he says, cockily. a part of oscar fears for where this conversation is headed.

"and?"

"and what?" lando asks.

"and are you gonna ask her out or what?" oscar questions like it was obvious because to him it was. how could he not ask a girl like you out? although oscar was guilty of the same thing it was not for a lack of wanting from oscar, that much was true.

"nahh. she's not really..." lando trails off. oscar gets defensive as soon as the first word rolls off the brits tongue.

"not really what?" oscar's words bite like bullets.

"you know man, she's not really wag material." is all lando says.

your face drops even further from your listening spot. this was not the way you had seen this conversation going. you were almost certain lando had liked you back. seems like you were wrong.

while you cower and hide to nurse your broken heart, oscar seeths at lando.

"that is no way to speak about a girl, nevermind her." oscar defends you. "it honestly seems like you don know what you're missing out on because she is a lovely girl. even though there is no such thing as 'wag material' i know for a fact that she is that and much much more, you are just too blind to see it. some people are surface level pretty and pretty on the inside too."

lando's brows raise at oscar's rant about you. the brit seems surprised at his view on you. the kind words not unusual from oscar but he could hear the devotion and love behind them, anyone with a pair of working ears could hear how deep his fondness for you went.

"if you like her that much much then why don't you ask her out, man?" lando asks. oscar is not stupid he can hear the teasing tone in his voice but he chooses to ignore it as he sighs.

"i can't she likes you." oscar just barely gets the words out before you appear at oscar's side. your eyes are teary and that just confirms his worst fear. you had heard everything. everything lando had said about you, he hoped you knew that it was so far from the truth.

"you really think that about me?" oscar winces as he assumes the questions was aimed at the older of the two papaya boys but when he opens his eyes he sees your eyes are pinned on his. oh you were talking to him. he had forgotten that if you had heard what lando had said you had most likely heard what he had said too. it was not too special and nothing of a confession but the heaviness behind his words told you much more than his words ever could.

"yeah i do" it is false confidence oscar speaks with but he really wants you to know he meant every single word and he could not convince you of that if you was a stuttering mess. "i like you."

you just stare at him. somewhere in this lando had ended up leaving you both to have some privacy, he had that much decency.

"i think i like you too." you tell oscar, although your words are a little unsure, definitely not as sure as oscar's.

oscar scoffs. "you don't. and you don't need to say that because you feel bad."

you roll your eyes. "i'm not just saying it. i think i do really like you."

"no, you like lando. you only like me because i'm the only option you have." oscar frowns at his own words, saddened by the mere thought of you only wanting him because you cannot have lando.

you take the seat lando was sitting in, and you before him. you take his hands in yours and hold them gently.

"i think i wanted to make you jealous by asking you to put in a good word with lando for me?" you tell him. to oscar is seemed that you had not even made sense of your own feelings.

oscar finally nods as he sees the sincerity in your eyes.

"if you do really like me then i would love to take you out." oscar says, his words less sure than before and a little more shy. it makes you smile and that is when you are sure that you do like oscar. and yeah maybe you do still like lando but you are almost certain that it was just a harmless crush. this with oscar? you know this could very much be something real.

"i'd love that." you nod as oscar grins back at you, you have never seen oscar smile that much and you have known him for a while now.

[redcrescentmoons]

Can you write a fic where Logan (If you write for him ofc if not, it could be Max, too) meets reader (Reader could be a celebrity of some kind like an actor or a NASCAR driver) in a gala or fancy event and it's kind of just love at first sight. For the rest of the event Logan/ Max tries to ask the reader out maybee? :3

It would be pretty cool but I'm pretty sure this idea has already been used countless times already buuuuut it would be pretty cool though

Thanks for reading this :D

Can’t keep my eyes off you

Logan Sargeant x gn!actor!reader

Note: You didn’t specify a reader gender (I write male and gender neutral readers) so I made it gender neutral but I can change it on request

In all honesty, Logan had never been a fan of all the fancy events he had to go to. He understood what it meant for him and for the team of course, but that didn’t mean they were his cup of tea.

Luckily for him, Alex was there too, and he knew that meant they could spend the entire evening chatting and waiting for the event to come to an end.

They weren’t the only Formula 1 drivers there; and frankly, apart for Lewis, most of them wanted to leave as well.

And so Logan stuck to his group, the people he saw every week, because it was better then socializing.

As they talked in their corner, drinks in hand, Logan fidgeted around; his suit was too uncomfortable, it was too warm in the crowded room, his dress shoes were squishing his feet.

A late arrival had everyone turning their heads: it was a very good-looking person, one that Logan didn’t recognize, but captured his attention nonetheless.

His fidgeting stopped; he went completely still, jaw slack and eyes wide, as he observed the newcomer.

"Who is that?" he was whispered to Alex, in hopes of getting some information about the stranger.

"Oh them? That’s Y/N L/N, they’re a super famous actor, I can’t believe you don’t know who they are."

So that was your name and job down. But what else could he learn about you? He had already been scolded by his team principal for using his phone too much during events, so that was ruled out.

He settled for the closest thing he could find to Wikipedia: his friends.

"What do you know about that person? Y/N L/N?" he asked the entire group.

They started blurting out random things, from your nationality to the name of your pet, and put together the information was actually quite a bit. Impressive for who he was asking.

But there was one question Logan still wanted to ask.

"And are they, by any chance, into men?" His mumbled question still managed to get picked up by his group, luckily, because he didn’t think he could say it again.

"Yes don’t worry" said Charles, the only one to have met him before "And they’re single too" the monegasque added, winking at Logan.

A slight blush spread on the American’s cheeks at being teased; and yet he couldn’t help but think about the actor, even as the conversation switched subjects.

He couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering across the room, to where you were stood, looking perfect, greeting those who came and talked to you.

Logan wondered if there was a chance he would be one of those people, to confidently walk up to you and just start a conversation.

But that wasn’t really him, was it? As much as he liked to exhibit a confident personality in interviews and such he couldn’t flirt for the life of him.

And so Logan settled for observation from afar, at least for a little bit.

He listened to what his friends were saying distractedly, half listening and the other half of his mind consumed by the stranger.

It was so unlike him, to see someone for the first time and completely fixate on them, and yet he just couldn’t help it.

Even when he tore his gaze from you it always wandered back, like a magnet. He kept thinking about what it would be like to talk to you, to actually be close, and in that moment there was nothing Logan wanted more.

He had completely spaced out, staring at you from across the room, until Max brought him back into the conversation with a "What do you think Logan?" that he honestly couldn’t respond to.

His friends laughed, finding his cluelessness funny, while filling him in on what he had missed. While he actually listened this time, Charles moved closer to Logan and whispered in his ear "Shoot your shot. Just trust me."

He couldn’t say it wasn’t helpful, given Charles was the only one to have met you before, and yet that just wasn’t enough to convince him to do it.

He turned away from their little side conversation to join back into the groups, shooting you a glance while he could.

Each time he saw your smiling face he thought about how inviting and nice you looked and how easy it would be for him to actually talk to you, and yet he still chickened out.

It was nearly two hours later now and Logan hadn’t stopped thinking about the actor for a second.

He was afraid of the evening coming to an end without him having talked to you, and it filled him with dread.

He went down the rabbit hole in his mind: What if he never did talk to you? He didn’t think he would be able to bring himself to stop thinking about you, and knew he would regret not speaking to you if he didn’t. And yet he remained afraid.

That was until Logan looked over to where he had seen you last and didn’t find you there. He looked around the large event venue, unable to find you, getting worried you had left already and he had missed his chance.

He was beginning to spiral, until he felt someone’s arm brushing against his own; no wait, someone was hugging Charles from behind. Logan didn’t think much of it until he realized it was your arm against his, and he began to blush madly.

You hadn’t seen Charles in a while, and you couldn’t wait to talk to him again, but people kept getting in your way, asking about you and telling you their opinions about their latest movies. And frankly, you wanted to check out the cute blonde boy standing next to your monegasque friend.

Logan watched you pull away from Charles, who messed with your hair playfully the moment he realized it was you.

You slotted yourself in between Charles and Logan as Charles introduced you to everyone, and Logan could feel his heart beating faster.

You started chatting with the whole group, getting to know the friends Charles had promised to introduce you to long ago.

Logan stayed quiet, admiring your beauty, and wondering if it was appropriate to pull you aside to talk privately.

Ultimately he decided it couldn’t be that bad, and when the conversation took a turn and you stayed quiet he pulled you aside, not far, just enough for a little bit of privacy.

You weren’t entirely sure what was happening, but followed suit as Logan pulled you a couple meters away from the other drivers.

"Hi! I’m Logan, we didn’t get to talk much." yep, that was a good opening line.

As Logan started his conversation he couldn’t help but fall further in love with you, entranced by your voice and personality.

Eventually he told himself he had to do it and, during the conversation, he blurted out "Do you want to go out with me?"

He wasn’t very happy with how he had done it, but knew the nerves had just taken over. He hoped it hadn’t put you off.

"I would love to" you said, smiling gently at him. He realized that wasn’t your fake smile, the one you were giving those that greeted you earlier; he felt special: he had caused your genuine smile, and he was the one that got to see it.

Little did you both know his entire group had been listening, and began to cheer as you both exchanged numbers and promised to keep in contact, right as the event came to an end.

You walked outside with Logan, Charles and their friends, Logan still smiling as he talked to you.

As you stepped in your own car, and they went to theirs individually, you said goodbye, and Logan watched you until the very moment he couldn’t anymore, excited at the prospect of your future date.

He was glad he had been unable to keep his eyes off of you.

[ninzied]

where ground meets light

alex and henry go on a double date. modern au. based on the prompt: a kiss to distract, for @caressthosecheekbones. ~1.2k.

They’ve only been dating a few weeks when he suggests it.

“Sorry.” Henry has to take this all in for a moment. Surely he must have misheard. “You want to go on a double date? With Alex?”

“Is that weird?” Gregory asks, in the manner of one who’s merely being rhetorical. “He’s your best friend. I want to get to know him better.”

“Well. Sure,” Henry says, because he cannot think of a single reasonable objection that a normal person would make. A normal person who’s not been harboring an ill-advised torch for his best friend for years. “Though,” he hedges, as if the thought’s just occurring to him, “I’m not sure he’s dating anyone at the moment.”

Henry would know if he is. In fact, according to Pez, the whole world would be hard-pressed not to notice because of the moods Henry gets in when it happens.

But it’s been well over a month now since his latest “little London fog,” as Pez calls it, so Henry mentions the idea to Alex as an afterthought, thinking there’s no real danger of him saying yes.

“Great!” says Alex brightly. “I’ll bring Yvette.”

He’ll bring fucking whom?

.

Yvette is a bloody knockout, of course.

Henry expects nothing less. Alex is only the most beautiful man who’s ever walked the planet, so it stands to reason that his date should look as she does.

The more unfortunate thing is that Yvette is also supremely likable. She’s warm, and funny, and seems to share Alex’s knack for livening up the conversation as though they’ve all been friends for years.

By all counts, the date should be a success. Henry laughs more than he thought he would and drinks far less than he thought he would need to. Alex is impressed by the food, which makes Henry feel absurdly pleased to have chosen this particular restaurant.

And, perhaps most importantly: because they’re seated at a round table with Alex angled off to his left, Henry hasn’t caught himself staring at him even once.

Perhaps he’s not so at risk of giving himself away as he’d thought.

.

The trouble, turns out, starts elsewhere.

The trouble is that Henry doesn’t have to be looking at Alex to be attuned to his every feeling and movement.

The way Alex’s knee keeps jittering under the table. The tic in his finger as he taps, then stills. Taps, then stills. The fact that he’s hardly stopped for a breath since they sat down.

He’s antsy, and miserable, but he’s trying so hard and his smile’s so vibrant that not a single person can tell. Not a one but Henry, and he needs to do something, needs Alex to know that he’s seen.

“Darling,” says Henry, without even thinking, and puts his hand on Alex’s wrist. Christ. Fuck. What did he say? What is he doing? But none of that seems to matter right now. “Are you all right?”

He feels Alex relax as though instantly calmed by that one simple touch, and Henry knows that if Alex hadn’t been all right before, he is more so now, somehow.

“Another round of drinks?” Henry asks the table, not even waiting, not even looking, before pulling Alex to his feet. “We’ll be right back.”

.

This is the difference between them. They both have their moods, but Henry wears his on his sleeve and has to shut himself away until it’s passed.

Alex, meanwhile, hides his in plain sight from most people, but Henry likes to think he’s not most people, and as soon as they’re at the bar out of earshot he looks Alex in the eye and says, “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“Was it that obvious? Fuck.” Alex shakes his head. “It’s nothing, Hen, just—want to make a good first impression, you know?”

Henry’s brow furrows. He tells that jealous little twinge in his chest that now is not the time. “Is this your first date with Yvette or something?” No wonder he’s not heard of her earlier. “Christ, Alex, why didn’t you say so sooner? You didn’t have to come if you didn’t—”

Alex laughs under his breath for some reason. “We’re not dating.”

“You’re—what?”

“She’s a friend,” says Alex. “She’s helping me out. And if the lov—I mean, if my best friend’s boyfriend wants to meet me, I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

Henry’s chest is positively aching now. “He’s not my boyfriend,” he says, firmly despite how breathless he feels. “It’s not that dire, trust me. We’ve only been on, like, three dates before this one.”

“Oh.” Alex seems to process this. His expression looks lighter for just a split second before it gets all heavy again. “Well, if you’re wanting there to be a fifth, you should probably talk to him before it’s too late. Looks like he’s about to leave.”

Henry glances over his shoulder, and sighs. “I should probably talk to him, yeah.”

.

Gregory is putting his coat on as Henry walks over. They both muster up a small smile, Henry’s more rueful, Gregory’s resigned.

“I’m really sorry,” Henry says, and means it.

“It’s okay. I’m not going to make it into a thing,” Gregory says. “Unless you’re about to tell me to stay. That would be pushing it.”

“I’m not,” Henry admits. “What I did want to say is that—well, I haven’t been entirely honest with myself about what I want. Which means I haven’t been honest with you, and that’s not fair to you at all.”

Gregory nods. “I do like you, Henry. You deserve to be happy. And I deserve to not be the guy that you use as an excuse to keep standing in your own way.” He glances at Alex back at the bar. Yvette is there now too, flirting up a storm with the bartender.

“I wanted to get to know your best friend,” Gregory continues. “And now that I have, I can say that he’s a really lucky guy.” He gives Henry a meaningful look. “Even if he doesn’t know it yet.”

.

Alex straightens as Henry approaches the bar, an untouched whiskey in one hand. “What are you doing? I thought you were going to go talk to him.”

“I did.” Henry shrugs, and helps himself to Alex’s drink.

Alex is looking as though he’ll never again know happiness in this world. “I fucked things up for you, didn’t I. Fuck.”

“What? No,” says Henry, but Alex doesn’t seem to be listening. “Alex. Alex.”

“Do you want me to go talk to him? I can explain.” Alex runs a hand through his hair, sending his curls all breathtakingly askew.

He doesn’t even know, Henry marvels. He doesn’t even know.

“I mean, it’s not your fault that I—” Alex breaks off with a frustrated sigh before starting back up again. “I’ll tell him that you don’t feel the same way, and that I’m really fucking sorry I ruined your night with my—you know—feelings, and—”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Henry says.

Then he leans in and kisses him, because Alex is an unstoppable force, and this is the one place where Henry has not been brave enough to meet him, until now.

Alex goes quiet at last, save for the sigh he lets out as their lips part and his hands find Henry’s waist and pull in.

“Whoa,” he breathes after a moment. “Yeah, we gotta do that again.”

“Shh,” Henry murmurs, “we were doing so well.” He puts his hand on Alex’s nape, drawing him back in.

Alex kisses him back like it’s the only thing that centers him, the only thing that keeps him grounded, and Henry—well.

Henry can’t help but think that it feels a bit like flying, too.

[ma1dita]

liar, liar

part two cn be found here-> truth be told

words: little under 2k

summary: sirius black is a good liar. spot how many times sirius lies in this fic.

warnings: slight nondescript smut!! errr cursing & another self-deprecating marauder, mostly unrequited love/being led on, sirius’s trauma response, fem!reader is too good for sirius, fem!reader has ‘i can fix him’ complex

a/n: guys… i thought of this prompt and the necklace Alex Russo wore in WoWP and suddenly, complex by katie gregson-macleod started playing so…sorry if this gets sadder.

(posted 9/8/23 & edited 11/6/23)

—

At the very core of him, Sirius Black is a liar. 

It’s not directly his fault, but a subliminal result of the loveless household he grew up in. Lies roll off his experienced tongue more naturally than when he’s ever tried to say I love you. So he’s convinced himself that it’s easier to live life this way, without love. If love ever fell into his hands, he’s not quite sure what he’d do with it. 

If Sirius Black could be defined, he thinks it would lack the word love and instead encompass a lot of his anger. Fiery, palpable anger, deep set in his core. That’s what he is. There are a lot of things to be angry about in this life, after all.

—

You’re 16 and this birthday party might’ve been your best idea yet. Your friends are dotted around your dorm room, along with some people you’ve invited from your classes. Among the forming crowd, you spot one Sirius Black. You don’t talk much outside of being Potions partners, and you get by with smiles in the halls and friendly touches. He’s looking at you from across the room like he knows you intimately, but that is far from the truth. Sirius Black is an enigma if anything, but what’s more unusual to you even after three shots of firewhiskey is the fact that he doesn't have any of his friends in tow. He meanders around the open space before circling back towards your direction as if that wasn’t his plan in the first place.

“Trouble in paradise?” you joke, gesturing to the space his posse would usually occupy behind him. He scoffs, avoiding the question, giving you a proper kiss on the cheek instead as he loops his arms around your waist. It piques your interest; you’ve always loved a challenge.

“Happy birthday, gorgeous.”

Sirius is handing you a small jewelry box, and you look at him dumbfounded. You’re barely even friends.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Black. I just called you over to get drunk with me and my mates.” You giggle, cheeks red from the alcohol.

It’s a necklace. A magical, really expensive one. Sirius is gauging your reaction, scratching the back of his neck. It’s easy to put a price to something rather than show you all of his cards.

“Well, aren't I special? This is too much, Black. I shouldn’t…” Your soft hands are pushing the box into his impenetrable wall of a chest as you shake your head in disbelief. No one’s ever gotten you something this nice or expensive before. You wonder if he does this to all the other girls that fawn over him.

“It’s nothing. I insist. You keep me distracted in Slughorn’s class and for that, you get a prize just as pretty as you.” He’s holding your wrists now, rubbing them casually like this isn’t the most intimate encounter you’ve had with him yet. Somehow you can sense that he needs this more than you do. To be needed. He doesn’t want to tell you that you’re the only one making him smile nowadays since his friends haven’t talked to him in weeks. You indulge in this behavior, because it’s new and exciting, and who would say no to Sirius Black?

The party ends much later after you tease him until his wit’s end, and then it’s your whispered approval that moves him to move his body over yours, the rest of your clothes quickly flying off in his pursuit to become a part of you. Physically and metaphorically, his being overtakes you quickly. Deep into the night, when he’s fucking you into your mattress, the necklace he gave you swings back and forth against your chest with every thrust of his hips, every bump of the headboard against the wall thumping the final nails into the coffin. You can’t help but feel special as he lays kisses on your spine. You know this isn’t intimacy in Sirius’ world though. This isn’t love, it’s bodies yearning for connection, to find something meaningful. To string the words to define how to pass the time. You hope he finds what he’s looking for between your sheets and as he breathes into your hair.

Sirius is angry at the world and he’s chosen you to be his target. What color on your necklace can define the fact you wanted him to fuck you brainless anyways? What can accurately portray the shaking of his hands as he slaps the fat of your thighs? Both of you don’t remember, but all he knows is your naked bosom is glowing amber as you pant, and it looks and feels like you’re on fire. Lust has a way of consuming the body, both of you moving until you cannot anymore, anatomy animated by the need for touch.

He needed this, a distraction. And you just wanted a crazy story to tell. You keep note of the fact that Sirius likes it when you moan his name, and he makes it his mission for you to scream the name he grew up hating because it sounds pretty coming from your mouth. Because here in this room, it means something other than disappointment.

“Oh my god, baby, right there!”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your baby.” he pants, pulling your hair roughly as he jackhammers into you. No pet names or endearments are allowed. Just Sirius, and he’ll correct you if you get it wrong. By the end of it, you’re slurring your words and screaming nonsense anyway. You think nothing of it.

He wants you as much as you’ll have him, which, when you’re 16, you think can be made a priority just to keep his eyes on you. Everyone wants a piece of Sirius Orion Black. And your hands are stretched out in hopes of partaking in this transaction of physicality and sin. Weeks later, after you seemingly fall asleep in the boys’ dorm, James asks Sirius if you’re his girlfriend. “She’s…alright,” he mumbles into the air. They’ve finally forgiven him for The Prank after your urges to get Sirius to swallow his ego. He never got to thank you for it. Gratitudes and endearments were a rarity at Grimmauld Place. 

Peter whispers in the dark of their dorm and asks Sirius if he could ever fall in love with you. With your eyes closed and your head lying against his chest, you feel him shrug as he traces a hickey he left on your collarbone. What is love to Sirius Black? He’s looking at your chest glow red, and his hand clutches the pendant in his fist, trying to dim its light. You go to sleep instead. The incandescent glow of the pendant seeps beneath your eyelids.

—

You’re 19 and sometimes you wonder if it’d be easier to be dead. Good days are a relief for all to have, presenting themselves as scarce and far apart in your new normal. There’s a war going on and you think it’s criminal to consider yourself adult enough to fight in it, but you and your friends–and your boyfriend do. You sleep in Sirius’ apartment more than your own now, but he never calls you his girlfriend, he just calls you his, and you convince yourself to not worry so much about it because death itself is coming for everyone you know. You’re together, and that’s what matters, right? There are bigger problems at hand.

Between Auror missions, Sirius has a bad habit of picking fights with you in front of your friends, which now include his friends. A lot of you comes from him, which you don’t resent. They’re lovely, but they see through the struggle. They know him too well, and you go to every gathering with an inkling that they know how mean Sirius can truly be. Old habits die hard. Tonight he yells at you because you won’t let him get a fifth beer. 

“Always thinking you know better than me, (Y/N). You’re not my fucking wife, so I don’t need to listen to you! No one wants to hang around a killjoy.”

He wrenches his grip from your thigh, nearly toppling your chair over to stomp over to the bar himself. Everyone stares at you, waiting for you to react before they judge. Before they defend their friend. His behavior has been erratic lately with his world crumbling as he knows it. But then again, Sirius has never known life without chaos.

“I know it’s not… ideal. But he’s a good guy. We’re all just going through shit right now. His brother’s missing, so I’m there when he needs me.”  Which is always, you omit from your response. You don’t mind being needed though. Helping him fight his demons is a part of being in a relationship with someone so damaged. You bring him light when his mind darkens. That is not transactional. It’s something deeper, though the words dissipate before either of you can utter it at night.

Lily reaches over the table to hold your hand, with Remus pulling his arm around the back of your chair, and rubbing your shoulder. Your chest is still glowing red, your love for him triumphing over any embarrassment he’s caused you. How you feel has always been clear, evident on your chest. What a weakness to have, to lay yourself bare to him and you wonder if Sirius did it on purpose.

He gets piss drunk as you expected and you have to side-apparate him home while you insist to everyone else that they should stay and have fun. They’re not as easily convinced, but you bid them farewell anyway. You get to the apartment and Sirius mumbles a ‘thank you’ as you help him take his clothes off and you gently tuck him under the covers, kissing him goodnight. Small moments like these are tender. They say more than anything you could put into words.

Moments later, you pretend to not hear Sirius cry, but his chest is heaving and the sound coming from his throat is so gut-wrenching that you lift yourself out from under him where he was weeping into your shoulder. In the dark, your eyes adjust to find his face in the moonlight.

“Sirius?” you breathe, fingers ghosting over the tears on his face. 

“He’s dead.” he whimpers. You’ve never seen Sirius Black let himself be vulnerable like this. Not to the Marauders, and especially not to you. There’s no carnal aspect in sorrow, though it leaves one gutted, worn down to the bone.

“My baby brother is dead, and no one knows. I don’t even have a body to mourn over.” 

He chokes back a sob, and you let his arms shroud your body, leaving the red glow of your pendant trapped between both of your ribs. You hope some of the light and some of your love seeps into him. You have plenty to give, and it’s all his for the taking, if only he’d let you.

Sirius falls asleep hours later, and you’re pinned to the bed underneath him. There’s a crick in your trapezius that you try to ignore as you stroke his hair. Maybe in his dreamless state he can find peace. You close your eyes and wonder if Regulus has found solace in death. Maybe it would feel something like this.

—

You’re 21 and most of your good friends are dead or in hiding. It’s the night before Halloween, but there’s not a lot to celebrate if real life is much scarier now.

Over the years, Sirius and you have come to an understanding. He’s flawed, with a viciously large ego and oftentimes he’s mean when he doesn’t know how to react. But he’s human. He tries now, more than ever to quell the anger born in the Black name. He tries to be gentle, though the instinct to hurt is in his blood. You’re patient, and resilient enough to take the blows, knowing what you feel is deeper than his anger, often revealing itself as his darkest fears. You like him ‘because’ and love him ‘despite’. Your cue to comfort him is usually right before he gets the look on his face that tells you he’ll say something knowing it’ll make you cry. You’ve always loved him, but now you know why. Sirius wonders every day how you’re still with him. He’s a runner, but since the day you’ve met him, you haven’t quite let go of his hand.

Usually instead of an apology, he’ll usually fuck you to oblivion, making sure your legs shake and your brain is jumbled enough to not talk about the hurt he causes you. He strokes the fire in you, and the feeling of anger that continually wracks his being can only be satiated by your touch. His skin on yours is the best place to be, but maybe there’s a part of you that likes the hurt, his anger. It's almost passionate, the only emotion he knows how to express well. You love him in a way that only you can, despite all of that. But it all blurs when he kisses you, consumes you. You especially like it when he pulls your hair.

You shriek as you come down from a release, hands rubbing the expanse of his chest. His thrusts slow as he grapples with reality, pawing at your breasts. Your hips milk him for his worth, and he groans lowly.

“You’re too good to me, wife. You’re all mine.” 

Your ministrations come to a stop as you look down at him, pendant hanging between your faces. Nicknames were a growing commodity lately.

“Wife, huh…”

The air is heavy between you two, still connected as one while you wait for his response. Let him take the lead, as it’s the role he’s more accustomed to.

“If that’s okay.” he breathes, not knowing what to do with his hands. Love has fallen into his hands, and her physical form is sitting in his lap. His grip eases as he accepts you wholly.

“Maybe someday soon.” 

A slow smile stretches across your face. 

“Ask me properly and I’ll consider.” But the glow of your necklace is more vibrant now, and you two both know your answer as he grabs your waist and pulls you down for another round.

Sirius tries to sneak out of bed in the early morning as you doze off. You wake, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, bare feet padding across your shared apartment in search of him until you see him dressed in the kitchen and holding a letter. 

“I have to go… deal with some business,” he mutters, not stepping away from the window nor sparing you a glance. Lying to someone he loves is harder than he thought it would be.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” You’re standing in the doorway wearing his shirt and his boxers. He likes it when you say his name. You could call him anything you want and he’d come running.

“James and Lily, they’re in trouble. I’ll be back by morning.”

You turn to grab your wand, planning to go with him, but he’s suddenly grabbing your arm and pulling you into a kiss, stopping your advances. He has something to lose now. You’re his, and he’ll be damned to let you follow him blindly into danger.

“You have to stay here. Everything will be okay,” he says, holding your chin. The lie sits heavy on his tongue. Maybe if he focuses he’ll see the rose-tinted hue of your irises every time he shuts his eyes.

“You’re scaring me...” You look at him in apprehension, his movements erratic and you wonder if he’s cracked and needs an exorcism. Then your heart is thundering in your chest and the red glow turns ice blue. A new feeling has taken a larger form than your love, and its fear. Briefly, you wonder how Sirius lives on edge like this. Something is dangerously wrong. He looks into your eyes, and then the cold glow on your chest. He takes a slow step back away from you, looking almost apologetic.

“Sirius Black, don’t you fucking dare.”

“I love you.”

He’s apparated and long gone before you register what he said. It sounded unfamiliar coming from his mouth, but you weren’t surprised. It was something you’ve always known. You just didn’t think that hearing it would hurt this badly.

—

The doors of the dreary prison cell screech shut in Azkaban. Visiting hours are over, and Sirius hadn’t left his space the whole two hours you waited outside in hopes of seeing him.

Tossing the lunch you packed into the bin as you push through the exit door for the last time, you think that killing him would’ve been easier than this, but he is not the victim in this story. You at least hope he got your package, as you think that maybe you could find a different adventure now, one that doesn’t involve having your feelings splayed across your chest for a murderer to come in and kill you dead. What a fool, to know someone so intimately, so innately, and for him to be a killer.

The envelope is slid under his cell door, and he opens it slowly. The necklace. Sirius sighs, and he wonders if you’ll finally let him go. It’s what you deserve anyway, now that he’ll rot in here for the rest of his life for a crime he didn’t commit. He’s hurt you enough that even if he did tell you everything, there’s a chance you wouldn’t believe him. No one does, after all. The cool silver of the chain makes goosebumps rise on the back of his neck as he slips it on. Red. 

With all the time in the world to think, he realizes that he can easily be defined by the sound of your voice calling his name. He’s called many things now besides a liar; a murderer, a deranged madman, a traitor. The only definition of himself he prefers now is one where he is described to be loving you. There are a lot of things to love about you, after all. He spends days, weeks, months, years, keeping track. He finds new ones every time he closes his eyes.

But Sirius Black is first and foremost a liar, and if there’s anything he’s sure of, is that he’s damn good at it.

—

“You say you love rain

but you open your umbrella.

You say you love the sun

but you find a shadow spot.

You say you love wind

but you close your windows.

This is why I am afraid

when you say you love me.”

William Shakespeare

love me some tunes! i listened to this while writing: complex by katie gregson-macleod

taglist: @jsjcue

[lw77]

Diet Pepsi 💈 (LSxMV)

Chapter 1. - Angel

Max wants more than just a sub.

Who knew helping his dad at the shop would become his own personal brand of torture. He knew his dad had regulars, but he thought they’d be – old men regulars not whatever these chippendale escapees were. 

Apparently they’re contractors, who look like every middle-aged woman’s fantasy. Including Logan’s. 

And like clock-work, the group of men enter, a few heading to the drinks and some to his mom’s home-made subs. He hears Danny’s loud laugh, followed by Charles snickering as they tease their other colleague, George, Logan’s mind helpfully supplies, as he shows them something on his phone.

Logan wonders where the other one is, Max, all ruddy cheeks, bright blue eyes and big arms, who’s sadly amiss as he looks towards the floor. 

It’s embarrassing really, how at twenty-one Logan is like a school boy with a crush. If he ever confessed all the things he’s thought, fantasised about or, God, he inwardly groans, dreamt since seeing that man, it would have his Priest drowning him in holy water. 

A tap at the counter knocks Logan out of his thoughts, as he sees Danny in front of him ready to cash out. Like he knew what was going through Logan’s head, Danny’s smile stretched wider, “What’s wrong Logie boy, you disappointed it's just us today?” 

Logan squeaks as he’s caught out, face aflame, “No idea what you’re talking about, um– will that be all?” gesturing to the stack of subs and drinks Danny’s placed on the counter. 

“I think you doooo Logie boy.” Danny croons winking, as Logan speeds up his scanning before Danny can say anything else. It doesn’t stop the man from resting his forearms on the counter and wiggling his eyebrows.

“You’re awful, I’m telling my mom not to make any more of her salami subs.” Logan whines, trying to threaten Danny’s favourite sub away in hopes of ending his teasing. 

Danny smiles cheekily in response, “Your mother loves me, she would never do that” as he taps his credit card on the reader. 

Putting the items in plastic bags, “Maybe I’ll just throw them all away then.” Logan says petulantly. Taking the bags from Logan, “Oh come on Logie boy, that would just be wasteful. Now don’t you worry, he’ll be back next week!” Danny shouts with one last wink as he heads out. 

It’s loud enough that Charles and George, who were still hanging by the front, look up and laugh as if they know exactly who Danny is referring to. It makes Logan let out an embarrassed “Danny” as he hears the group’s laughter continue out the store. 

_______________________

Logan is snug in their usual booth, waiting for Alex and Oscar to return with their first round. They’re celebrating Alex’s new job tonight.

“Alright, two pitchers of beer for us and a Sommersby cooler for the princess!” Oscar announces loudly as he sets down their drinks. Logan snatches the cooler and pulls it closer.

“Oh, come on, Logie bear. You know we’re just teasing you,” Alex says, only making Logan scowl more.

“Seriously, what’s gotten into you this week? Did your mom accidentally sew up your fuck-me jeans again or something?” Oscar asks, furrowing his brows in genuine curiousity.

Logan groans and sinks further into his seat. “No, worse.”

“Did she try to set you up with one of her awkward co-op students again?” Alex asks.

Sitting up, Logan protests, “Okay, that was one time! Checo was sweet—he just had really sweaty hands.” Realizing how pitiful that sounds once he says it, he rests his head against the booth's cushion.

Alex and Oscar sit in silence, giving him space to finally share what’s bothering him.

“You know those hot regulars my dad has? The Chippendale escapee contractors? Danny Ricc—you know him, Alex.” Leaning in, Logan hisses, “Well, they definitely know I’m into their friend or colleague, whatever he is.”

“Yeah well, Logan, you’re not exactly subtle. It’s pretty obvious you’ve got a crush on that guy,” Oscar replies, in an all too annoyingly factual tone, Logan decides.

“And your pupils get huge dude when you like someone. There’s no hiding your attraction buddy,” Alex adds, raising his hands in surrender.

“Oh my god, how am I going to face him now that I know his friends know? Meaning, he knows too. So mortifying,” Logan says, fully aware he’s whining when they’re supposed to be celebrating Alex. “Sorry, I’ll snap out of it… or I’ll move out of town.” He says the last part a little too seriously for his friends.

“Anyway, that’s my week. Now—Alex, come on, tell us about the job! The floor is yours.” Logan gestures with a flourish.

Alex and Oscar share a look. “I got hired to consult as an architect.”

Logan perks up and excitedly congratulates Alex, asking where. “At Danny Ric’s company—your favorite!”

“Oh my god, you’re going to be a part of the Chippendale escapees?” Logan squeals, both hands slammed on the table as he leans over in excitement.

Oscar, observing the scene then asks, “Time for a cheers then?”

“To Alex joining the Chippendale escapees!” they cheer, clinking their beers and can together.

“Oh my god, you’re going to work with Max. Alex, you love me, right? You’ll tell me if he ever talks about me, or if he says I’m cute?” Logan continues, getting even more embarrassing. Oblivious to the widening eyes of Alex and Oscar as they glance behind him.

“…Oh my god, he came in muscle tee a few weeks ago and I just wanted to bite his biceps because they looked so big and they are so big—”

“Ow! What the hell, Oscar? We use our words now.” Logan admonishes, bending in his seat to rub where he got kicked. But he freezes as he hears a familiar laugh. Looking up, he sees Danny standing by their table, amused, and oh god, Max, arms crossed and wearing an equally amused expression.

Now looking no better than his best friends, Logan’s eyes are wide, his face is scarlet, and his mouth hangs open in shock as he realizes they must have heard everything—or at least enough. Maybe he can learn to love Checo’s moist, moist, hands because Mexico is definitely far enough.

“Hey, boys, didn’t mean to interrupt your evening. Just came over to congratulate our dear little Alex on joining the company! Our youngest yet!” Danny sings, wiping a tear for dramatic effect.

Meanwhile, Logan, snapping out of his deer-in-headlights look, is now studiously examining the table varnish, hoping the two men forget his earlier soliloquy over the other's (big) arms.

Good-naturedly, Alex invites Danny and Max to join them in the booth, leaving Logan pressed arm to leg against Max, his best friend completely uncaring of Logan’s gay panic.

Logan starts drinking from his can, hoping to avoid any conversation. But before long, Danny, Alex, and Oscar finish the two pitchers and decide they need to get the next round. Logan’s eyes widen as he mentally pleads, *Don’t leave me alone.* But both Oscar and Alex blissfully ignore him.

Staring at his drink as if it's the most interesting thing, Logan catches a glimpse of Max turning his way.

“Heard you missed me at the store.”

Logan looks at him, feeling his cheeks flush. As Alex pointed out earlier, his attraction to Max is probably written all over his face.

“I—um, no, just wondering where you all were,” he stutters, wetting his lips. “Not just you.” He leans back against the wall as Max essentially cages him in the booth, one arm resting on the back and the other bent on the table. Max’s body warmth and sandalwood cologne envelop Logan, blanketing his senses. Max’s gaze drops to Logan’s lips, a small smirk playing on his face, "Really?" he prompts, "Ye-yeah" Logan breathes out, Max's eyes flick up to Logan's at his answer and his lips break into a smile as he replies simply “Okay, if you say so.”  And, all too soon, he leans back, creating some space as the sounds of the bar filter in again, grounding Logan, feeling like he must be in heaven with Max so close.

Clearing his throat as Danny and the others join the table, Logan sits up, gratefully accepting a new can from Oscar, who gives him a knowing look while subtly elbowing Alex. Now both friends are watching him with knowing smiles, taking in his flushed cheeks and wide eyes.

Logan glares back but falters when he feels a big hand settle just above his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. He realises he’s being asked a question. “Oh—I'm sorry, what?” he asks, confused, snapping his gaze to Max. 

It’s Danny, looking past Max with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He repeats his earlier question, fully aware of why Logan is distracted. “I asked if you’re excited to see your best friend every day now. Since your mom’s subs are legendary. And essential to a good work day”

Logan’s disbelief drips from his tone as he asks, “Even if all we have is the veggie one, Danny?” He raises his eyebrows for added effect.

Danny crosses his hand over his heart dramatically. “Even the veggie one, Logie boy! Although some of us come for the service too.” He finishes with a sidelong glance at Max.

Max, whose relaxed against the booth with his body still angled toward Logan and a comfortable hand resting on Logan’s thigh from when he squeezed it earlier to get his attention. At Danny’s insinuation, Max looks down at Logan, a small smile tugging at his lips as he gives Logan’s thigh another gentle squeeze, this time higher up, and shrugs.

The warmth from Max's touch sends a flutter through Logan's stomach, mingling with a simmering feeling in his chest that he can’t quite identify.

Thankfully, Logan is saved from responding as Oscar pulls Danny’s attention away, asking what project they’ll be starting on.

In the most teasing tone he can muster despite his fluster, he whispers, “So, service?” Looking up at Max from beneath his eyelashes.

Max leans in closer, his voice low. “You’re not the only one who's been looking, Angel.”

Logan’s face heats up further. The nickname doesn’t help his battle against arousal or the realisation that he was not subtle at all.

He blinks as he responds with a soft “uh-huh,” nodding his head, his mind feeling like cotton from their proximity and Max’s admission of mutual attraction.

Max’s gaze drifts to Logan’s lips just as Logan nervously bites his bottom lip. He’s on the verge of saying something—or maybe hoping for something more—when a cough interrupts them, making both of them look up at a smirking Danny.

“While the image of you two is a relief, we have to head back. Poker night! We just had to stop to congratulate you, Alex, on joining us.”

Logan, embarrassed by Danny’s comment, groans into his hands, while Alex thanks Danny brightly. Glancing at Danny, as he waits for Max, he leans into Logan’s ear, whispering, “See you tomorrow, Angel,” and with one last squeeze to Logan's thigh he’s out of the booth and heading for the door behind Danny. Leaving Logan bright red, his arousal flashing like a stop sign, and his two best friends laughing at his expression.  

Unhelpfully, Alex says, “Guess this means you don’t have to skip town anymore.” To which Oscar shouts, “Hear! Hear!” Logan can’t help but giggle, his embarrassment fading as he nods in agreement.

Chapter 2 - Hunter?

Chapter 3 - Sunburn

Author's note: So I listened to Diet Pepsi by Addison Rae and I just kept seeing buff/fit Max (white t-shirt, gold cross in blue jeans) and Logan vm baby boy/angel and big blown out eyes and parted lips when Max comes into his dad's store with his co-workers/friends. (i was going for a lil age diff but mostly size difference)

also i was gonna make it hotter but its like jesus had a hand on my shoulder as i got to it. maybe next chapter

[jobesbabe]

Proud of You / Jobe Bellingham

ps i made this gif so give creds if u use it!

warnings: established relationship, fluff, bar setting

summary: tired you cozying up to your winner of a boyfriend. based loosely on the Sunderland vs Plymouth Argyle match and it’s (fictional) aftermath.

You sat patiently with the other wags for the majority of the first half. Your boyfriend was on the bench and so was his mate Chrissy. There were yellow cards thrown, One at your boys in red, and two at the opponents in green. Approximately one every ten minutes. You pulled your Sunderland scarf a bit tighter and sighed. To you, the match was plain and boring. You adored football, even teams other than Sunderland, but if it was Sunderland, your Jobe better be playing. A few minutes after Phillips earned his yellow, you heard cheers and cries erupt from the Stadium of Light. Everyone around you looked disappointed. Plymouth Argyle had scored. As you stared at the number nine on Hardie’s back, You felt it taunting you. That should be a red jersey, with a number 7 that read ‘JOBE’. If only were that easy.

Relief came for you as the ref blew his halftime whistle, reminding you your boyfriend still had forty five minutes to go out and prove himself.

You expected the manager to have him walk out onto the field, and start the remaining forty five, but he didn’t. Your sighs grew louder wondering when your man would get out there on the field.

seven minutes passed and you joined in with the roar of fans, as Roberts moved with the ball, you could tell if he passed it to Ekwah he would score. And he did, equalizing it for the two teams. You cheered for the Jobe-less Sunderland, wishing it had been your Jobe who scored the equalizer.

Seven more minutes passed and Clarke sank a second into the back of the net giving Sunderland an advantage over the visitors. It was like someone was winking at you with the number seven and everything associated with it. Good luck, Jobe. Jobe. Jobe is the number seven. You were sure in seven minutes his manager was going to sub him in. You were sure.

At the 65’ minute mark, two minutes before your seven minute timer would go off, Jobe was subbed in along with Chrissy in exchange for Abdoullah, and Pierre.

So, maybe I was wrong, about the seven minute thing but who cares, he's in now, you thought to yourself. You smiled as he ran up and down the field. as your timer begins to alert you, you see Neil make an amazing pass to Jobe and him just put that ball away in the corner.

You cheer so hard for him, yelling “That’s my boy!” and he celebrates with his teammates before turning to your section and blowing a few kisses. You begin to blush and the wags around you laugh and poke a bit of fun.

The rest of the game flew by, the result remaining where Jobe had left it. 3-1. You made your way to wait for the boys to shower. As you waited, Keeley, Alex Pritchard’s partner came up to you and talked with you about plans for the night and how they were all going out to a bar. You told her you’d run the idea past Jobe and she thanked you.

As he walked out to go see you the fresh-faced Jobe couldn’t help but smile. You ran to him and he picked you up and spun you around.

“I’m so proud of you! That was amazing Jobeee!” you exclaimed.

He grinned cheekily and tilted his head.

“You think so?” he asked.

You laughed and kissed his cheek as he put you down.

“I think some of the guys and their partners are going out for drinks if we want to join them,” Jobe said.

“Oh yeah, Keeley mentioned something yeah.”

“lets go out with them yeah?” he asks.

“Sure,” you reply as you leave to his car hand in hand.

Jobe and you make your way inside a bar close to the outskirts of the city. You see it’s been mostly cleared so the lot of you could hang out there without many disturbances.

You sat between Keeley and Jobe drinking just a club soda with lime since you didnt feel like drinking.

After a few hours and meters of seperation from Jobe, you began to get tired.

You crept into Jobes lap and cuddled into his neck with your eyes closed. His cologne was as intoxicating as alcohol to you and you breathed it in like it was your oxygen.

He rocked you back and forth humming and your ear was pressed to his chest listening to his heartbeat as it steadily pounded.

He kissed your hair and you smiled.

“baby, im so proud of you.” you said.

He laughed and picked you up bridal style, putting you in the car to bring you home

————————————————————————

that’s it!

a/n - I turned off anon requests bc literally the same person is using it over and over again for the same request and also left rude ones so i’d rather know who they came from. Requests are open but not anon… In due time i will turn anon back on. dw. Thanks for the understanding

thanks for reading! leave comments, like and follow! thank youu!

[scekrex]

You know who it is, it's ya boy! 🕺

So. Obviously a crack fic, if anyone is wondering - no, I don't smoke pot, I'm just very stupid with dumb, but creative ideas, about Adam, Lute and the reader having a mission given to them from Sera, we're they have to got to the Earth in their human disguises (Of course Adam is just Adam without the mask and brown eyes, because Alex Brightman, fuck yeah) to do some business with some of the governments. What they didn't think of is the fact that when they got their human disguises, they also came with human traits, like being able to get absolutely hammered. Like for angels it would take a lot of alcohol (I'm looking at you Castiel when you drank a whole ass liquor store) to get drunk, but humans have a weaker immune system when it comes to percentages. So Adam the drunkest of them all getting the amazing idea of stealing a shopping cart, a little less drunk reader agreeing and them running off before Lute could stop them, Adam in the cart, reader pushing. In the end they accidentally drove off the sidewalk and launched themselves into the damn brook. Lute panicked before they emerged, laughing their asses off, Adam just started to glide his hands over his clothes as if he wanted to hand wash them. Here cue the meme:

-I'M WASHING ME AND MY CLOTHES

-He's drunk as fuck

-Biiitch, I'm washing me and my clothes 😌

With the "I'm washing me and my clothes" being Adam, "He's drunk as fuck" being Lute and the reader just floating in the water next to Adam wondering what the hell he was doing before catching the vibe and doing the same. Now imagine Sera just wanting to check on them and their progress through that orb in Heaven like during "You didn't know" 😂 Miss girl would face plam so hard her big ass lashes would fly off her face 😂😂😂

Bro. Bro I adore you and I adore your fucking crack prompts, they're my new favorite thing to write. So here ya go babes

Drunk 'n' Nasty

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, use of alcohol, yet another crack fic

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Lute grabbed your wrist and pulled you away from the bar entrance, Adam had already been grabbed by his shirt to keep him from entering the building. “No, Sera explicitly said that we need to get this over with as fast as possible,” the lieutenant spoke in a firm voice as she dragged both you and your husband away from the pub, “So we will finish the job and then straight up head back to heaven.”

You pounded at her, “You’re no fun, c’mon Lute just let us have one drink, in and out in no time.” But the exorcist shook her head and stood her ground, “No. One drink will lead to two and two drinks will lead to you and Adam getting completely wasted.” Adam wiggled out of her grip and slapped the hand she had wrapped around your wrist. Yes, Sera had given you orders, but where was the fun in having human disguises if you weren't able to enjoy the night on earth?

“Oh fucking quit it, danger tits, we all know it will end like that either way,” Adam groaned and rolled his eyes, “Loosen up, bitch.” Lute side eyed the first man critically but eventually gave in with a sigh. She wordlessly stepped aside so the two of you were able to enter the crowded bar and Adam dragged you inside before Lute was able to change her mind again. “Let’s fucking go,” the brunette cheered and sat down at the counter. He patted his thigh as his now brown eyes caught yours, “C’mere babes.” That he didn't need to tell you twice, you closed the small gab that was left between the two of you and sat down on his thigh as the first man ordered two shots of whiskey for the both of you, he knew Lute wouldn't drink, she appeared to be quite tense ever since the three of you had arrived on earth.

Once the drinks were put down in front of you, you immediately reached for the tiny shot glass and downed it in one go by tilting your head back, Adam's eyes were locked on your throat as he was able to see how you swallowed the liquid, a nasty grin appeared on his lips as he leaned in a little closer to you, “Fuck, how often will I get that view tonight?” “Depends,” you grinned back at him, the pleasant yet unusual burn of alcohol made you shiver slightly, “How often do ya wanna see it, pretty boy?” Adam leaned in even closer until his lips brushed softly against your ear and his hot breath hit your face, “I don't think I will ever get enough of it.” And with that he downed his own shot just to slam the empty glass on the counter and ask the bartender for another round.

“Sir,” Lute had managed to get through the crowd somehow and was now standing behind you, “That was your one shot, we'll leave now.” Adam looked at you, it was so weird to see the first man with dark brown eyes instead of bright golden ones, but it was something you could get used to, they seemed honest, not that his golden eyes were serving you lies but the brown orbs just felt different, more personal. “Lute, do us a fucking favor and find some dude who will pull that massive fucking stick outta your ass so we can enjoy ourselves for a little while,” your husband shared his opinion on Lute's behavior towards the both of you, then he turned around again to focus on the drinks on the counter. The first man raised his glass, you did the same and in union you purred, “To us.” Another shot was swallowed and you slowly felt your cheeks heating up because of the alcohol. Oh how you had missed the burning liquor.

“I will regret this,” Lute grumbled as the exorcist sat down on the stool next to you. Your eyes beamed at her and you were quick to order three cocktails, visibly happy that she had decided to join you. “Just because I'm sitting down doesn't mean I will drink with you, it's enough of a burden that you two are,” she hissed and eyed the neon pink drink suspiciously as it was placed in front of her. “Don’t be such a princess, it's just one drink,” Adam commented and pushed the pretty looking drink a little closer to Lute. She however, simply passed it to some chick that was passing by. And that was the moment you chose to ignore the woman for the rest of the evening. If she was fine with staying sober and doing as stupid fucking Sera said, so be it, you and Adam however had other plans.

It didn't really take long for the alcohol to actually punch you two in the face though, heaven offered no such things as alcohol, weed, crack or nicotine so the tolerance bar for Adam and you was basically on the floor. And that was probably part of the reason why the two of you had one hell of a blast running away from Lute.

And then Adam spotted the supermarket that wasn't too far away from the pub so he made quick work of picking you up bridal style and then he was on his way to investigate whatever it was that was going on there. “What now, big guy, are we taking off together? Away from stick-in-the-ass-Lute and go-fuck-yourself-Sera?” you chuckled as the brunette continued to carry you over to the empty parking lot. “Damn fucking right, babes,” Adam agreed. The taller man let you down once your destination was reached and he immediately saw something new he wanted to investigate.

The fucking shopping carts.

So you tagged along, mainly to make sure Adam wouldn't hurt himself but also because you were curious too. You weren't quite sure how, but somehow Adam had managed to disconnect the metal chain from the cart, the first man was pulling it away from the others and as soon as it stopped moving, he climbed in it to sit down, “What are you waiting for, bitch, fucking push me!” Adam pointed to the street.

Lute had just managed to catch up to you two drunken asses as you rushed past her. You pushed the shopping cart as fast as physically possible, “Fuck yeah,” Adam yelled and threw his fists in the air, that man was having the time of his life - or well, existence. Either way it was fun, you two were having fun.

Lute on the other hand regretted every single decision that had led her to his exact moment, if she could she would punch her past self for even agreeing to coming with you. Fuck what had she been thinking, that you two would take this serious for once? Yeah, dead fucking wrong.

It was all fun and games until you stumbled over your own feet, lost control of the cart and pushed it right into the brook that was besides the sidewalk you had been running on. Your alcohol clouded brain didn't even think of letting go and therefore you fell with Adam. Instead of being bummed about it, you thought of this as an upgrade though, because now you were floating on water.

“Adam look,” you called for your husband, “I’m floating.” Adam turned around in order to see what you were doing and chuckled at the sight. “‘m washin’ me ‘n’ my clothes,” the brunette explained what he was doing as he slid his hands all across his body, crumbling up his very wet clothes.

Lute had finally managed to fully catch up to you and just watched you with annoyance. “He’s drunk as fuck,” she grumbled, clearly talking to you but you simply shook your head violently, you somehow managed to get over to where Adam was washing himself and his clothes and helped him by sliding your hands all over his body too, “Bitch, we're washing him and his clothes.”

The brunette turned around to face you and poked your chest, “If you handsome bitch keep touching me like that I might just fuck you right here, right now,” the words he spoke were a little hard to understand die to the alcohol he had been drinking earlier. But hard to understand didn't mean impossible to understand, because as soon as your brain had processed the words your husband had spoken you pressed your entire body against his, your wet clothes clinging onto each other.

“Oh Lord have mercy,” Lute prayed as she covered her ears and turned around so that she wouldn't have to watch.

“Yeah? What's stopping you, big guy?” you were up for the challenge, if he wanted to fuck you right there, then he should get to do that. At least that's how you saw it.

Sera had a gut feeling that told her to check on the group and so she did. But what she saw was something she surely hadn't expected. Lute was standing on the sidewalk, the woman was still covering her ears and had squeezed her eyes shut in order to tune out what was happening behind her back.

Because Adam and you were standing in a brook, both fully naked. Sera immediately regretted what she had just done, she wanted to unsee what her eyes had been able to see. She stopped the transmission in an instant. That had simply been too much for her nerves, she had also made the decision to never address what was currently going down on earth.

Spoiler: Adam was going down on you.

[lees-chaotic-brain]

For the song fic event!

Dancing with Your Ghost (Sasha Alex Sloan) with YOU KNOW WHO—Gojo Satoru, of course!—angst/mcd?

I don't really do x reader stuff, but I thought this was a cool idea so I figured why not? 😊✨️

WC: 1.1k

CW: jjk chapter 236 spoilers, mcd, angst, hurt/no comfort, grief, unhealthy coping

Note: aww, thank you so much for sending one in!! this hurt, but omg did i get in my feels writing it. so excited to be posting the first fic for this event!!

listen to this song while reading

Event Guide | Event Masterlist | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation

It was past midnight, well into the wee hours of the morning when you woke with a start. Reaching over, you patted the other side of the bed searching for something that would never be there. Instead of the warm body you expected, you made contact with smooth, cool sheets, the surprise jolting you back into reality. 

Remembering that no one was there, you rolled out of bed suddenly unable to bear being in it alone. Sliding your feet into slippers and wrapping a robe around your body you head to the kitchen, the soft sound of your slippers against the hardwood the only sound in the otherwise silent apartment.

Part of you wondered if it would always be like this. If you would spend the rest of your life always searching for something that wasn’t with you. Another part of you knew that you would.

Baby, why'd you go away? I'm still your girl

Knowing you weren’t going to go back to sleep you sighed and put the kettle on for some tea. As you waited for the water to boil you wrapped your arms around yourself and leaned back against the counter. The silence filling your apartment was deafening and the stillness made you uneasy. 

Taking a deep breath you sat down at the counter, staring into space as you allowed yourself to get lost in your thoughts. You don’t know how long you sat there before the shill whistle of the kettle knocked you out of your stupor. You jumped a little, the sound startling you. Moving to stand, it was only then you noticed you were crying. Your fingers reached up and brushed your cheek, and you examined the drops of water on them a little mystified. Deciding that only sleeping four hours in the last week was finally getting to you, you dried your face and turned the stove off. 

Opening the pantry to grab a tea bag, an expired box of kikufuku mochi caught your eye. Inevitably, your thoughts were drawn to him, and a fresh wave of grief hit you. Frantically, you fumbled with the box, hurriedly extracting a tea bag and slamming the pantry door shut a little too violently. The handle of the ceramic mug was cool in your hand as you dunked your tea bag and moved to sit on your couch.

You sank into the soft cushions, unable to stop yourself from grabbing your phone and opening your text chain with him. Despite knowing it was unhealthy, you often found yourself rereading the messages you sent to him that fateful night he hadn’t returned home. The messages get increasingly more panicked with each one, ending with a final “I hope it was painless. I hope you know how much I love you. I didn’t even get to say goodbye…”

Never got the chance to say a last goodbye. 

I gotta move on, but it hurts to try.

Swallowing a sob you shut your phone off and hurl it across the room. You need to move on. You know that. Never leaving your house, pushing your friends away, not sleeping, obsessing over the past, you knew it wasn’t good for you.

Day after day, voicemails and texts poured in from concerned friends and family telling you that you were self-destructing. That this wasn’t what he would have wanted for you. That he would have wanted you to move on. To live.

You know that. You know. But knowing and being able to were two very different things. How were you supposed to move on when everything reminds you of him? When you can’t sleep without his warmth.

Aside from that, your faith in others has been permanently shattered. He had promised you that he would always come back, that he would win. And you had believed him because he was the strongest. And if you couldn’t believe him then who could you? But then he had gone and left you far behind. No. You could never open your heart again. You can’t trust anyone to not leave you like he did.

How do I love? How do I love again?

How do I trust? How do I trust again?

But you were okay with being alone for the rest of your life. Even if the loneliness made it impossible to sleep. Even if his absence wrapped around your throat cutting off your air. You were okay. You didn’t need anyone else. You had your home filled with his belongings and you had yourself. That’s all that mattered.

I stay up all night, tell myself I’m alright

At least that’s what you told yourself. In reality every reminder of him was like a stab to the heart. And maybe you were a masochist because you refused to remove the traces of him from your apartment. Sitting on the sofa you could still see him dancing around the coffee table, hear his laughter fill the air. And sometimes when you closed his eyes and inhaled his scent that still lingered in the air it was like he was still next to you, his voice ringing in your ears.

Baby you’re just harder to see than most

Suddenly the silence in the living room was suffocating. Without the joy and love that used to reside in it, the room felt oppressive. Retrieving your phone from where you had flung it you hastily, you connected to your apartment’s bluetooth and clicked play on the first playlist that popped up in your feed. Some of the stress left your body when a soft dreamy song began to seep from the walls, only to return when you realized what playlist you had accidentally put on. 

Of course you accidentally played the playlist he made for you for your two year anniversary. The playlist of all the songs that reminded him of you. Going to change the playlist you froze when you accidentally hit skip and heard the song that began playing.

It was your song. The song you used to listen to together on quiet evenings. The song that the two of you slow danced to in this very living room. The song you knew all the lyrics to. Slowly, you put your phone down, leaning back and closing your eyes as the music swept over you.

I put the record on, wait ‘til I hear our song

And with the song on repeat, you sat there until the first light of day struck your face, the ghost of Gojo Satoru slow dancing around you. 

Every night I’m dancing with your ghost

Every night I’m dancing with your ghost

[mywritingonlyfans]

hello uuu💓!! I love your writing so much and I hope you’re doing wonderful. I don’t know if you saw but Alex’s gf got a nipple piercing, and I would just die if you could (most importantly if you want and are in the mood for, if not totally understandable) tell us your thoughts or write something along the lines of Alex seeing your nipple piercings/reaction, how would he treat them. I just can’t get that idea out of my head

Omg omg omg omg 😭 I literally just woke up and read your message and went on Instagram to see this jesus. (HELLO YOU! babe)

I'm sharing thoughts, but I'll try to use that in a narrative soon because this is so good pls 😭 tthxx for sending this!

Alright, imagine telling him this before doing it. You're sitting on the edge of the bed, and he's between your knees. Your hands are on his jaw, holding him close to you as if he would consider looking at anything else but your worried eyes. Your fingers are sliding down his neck (and soft baby curls) as you contemplate how getting a nipple piercing could boost your self-esteem, and it could be an idea, but you want to hear his opinion first (even though you'd do it the same way, and you know he wouldn't mind). And he's looking at you cautiously, hanging onto every word before giving you lovely smile, seemingly caught off guard but not failing to shower you in repetitions of how hot you are and how you'll get even hotter as he tightens his grip on you and kisses you. (Like, please, the way he would be fixated on sucking and nibbling them, and how it would intensify afterward – maybe you'd even feel more confident after and pushing his mouth to them at any opportunity.)

And then he goes with you, your eyes watery with the prospect that it might hurt. He holds your hand, running his thumb over your skin to soften it and try to trick your synapses. Or better, he stands by the door, looking at you without your baby tee shirt. You're smiling and confident about it as he holds his jacket between his hands and watches you because you said you wanted him there. He feels happy to see you happy and a bit numb as you get up from the chair, push your hair back, and ask him to look at how it turned out. (He's already drooling over you.) Your face holds a smile between your teeth, knowing he won't hold back when it comes to complimenting you once you're alone. And yes, he would listen attentively about how to take care of and clean the area to do it for you whenever you'd like.

He would be so careful during the healing period, so you would always be on top. Unable to lavish the intensity with which you took care of him on your breasts, he would certainly focus more on other areas, like thighs and waist (squeezing, biting, marking and everything). And of course, seeing that you enjoy that, it would become a recurring thing. And you getting there, feeling exhausted and a bit frustrated, only for him to hold you and kiss away your tears while you're whimpering that you needed this to pass quickly because you missed having his mouth around them. He would clearly chuckle but feel the same way, even knowing that the wait would be worth it, and then he would nibble and kiss the skin around to try to soothe you a bit. And he would say that you would have to wait a bit longer with some laughter. Oh, he would clean the area for you, you know? Wipe away the sweat and put you in one of his tank tops that he usually wears under his button-down white shirts, then give a kiss to each one over the fabric and hear you moan softly because it was still a bit sensitive.

Around people who were close to you both, like the boys and girlfriends, I think he would kiss them over the thin fabric of your blouses. Maybe you haven't seen each other since the morning, and he's seeing you for the "first" time after having spent energy from you first thing in the morning and then he pulls you by the waist, wrapping his wide hands around you, lowers his head and kisses them with a good (lots of) pressure and he can see your body growing soft or just tense because your cheeks getting too hot at it. (If he's having a good day, he'll even bite to hear your muffled sighs in your hands). Oh, he would certainly stare at them from time to time whenever you were braless and they were showing thru your t-shirt. It would be like magnetism, even if he tried or disguised it, you would notice. Or touching and squeezing them when no one is watching just to have you snuggle up to him and say, "not here" even though the voice didn't hide that you liked it.

And okay, if it's a surprise and he's going to see it for the first time after you've already done it, I think it would be a case of you not being able to wait to show him. You would certainly have to take him to a calmer place or maybe in the car and tell him that you want to show him something and he feels a little red in his cheeks and ears when he sees you opening the buttons on your shirt, his bright eyes on you, meeting the metal slightly illuminated by the light light of the car. Your pretty nipples stiff from the cold wind and him licking his lips, sighing contentedly and unrestrainedly as he didn't utter words even after you let out a smile and whispered, "did you like it, Al?" with a calm tone and without perspective on the thoughts he was having at the moment. Let's say this happened while he was on tour, so at this event your nipples had been pierced for a few weeks and safe. So soon, Alex's reaction would be to run his thumb over your happy skin, making you let out the same sighs he had let out minutes ago and after rubbing them lightly and seeing that everything was ok, he would hold your waist and kiss them cautiously until he decides he would like to bite them and then leave the skin below your breast chewed and marked. (and yes, this is in the car, minutes before you need to go out and meet people. The windows are cloudy and you hold the back of his head in light pulls and moans, not being able to verbalize well a tiny, "I'm glad you liked it, my love.")

[dsireland86]

There is Beauty in the Pain: Chapter 5 Pt.1

"Cause your love is fire warm I'll be the calm babe, before the storm You got me fallin' in love, in this bad dream" -bad dream- Nerve

@lma1986 @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @missduffsblog @bngurngheart @thatamazingvampirestory

Sophie:

My body was healing well enough to the point that I felt human again for the first time in days. The process wasn't always easy, mainly because I would get trapped inside my own head trying to put all the wrong things right again, but I had a good support system. Despite the moments I'd shut them out, they were there, ready and willing to help; Noah and Folio especially. 

After days of staying locked inside the bedroom, I showered and dressed and went downstairs only to find Noah, Jolly, Nick, and Folio in the kitchen attempting to cook breakfast. The place was a disaster, making me wonder if any of them had any idea what of they were doing. Given the shape and color of the burnt bacon, I would say no. “This is not edible,” I told them, picking up a tiny piece and cringing at just the sight. The silence surrounding us was a little awkward, making me wonder if I overstepped my boundaries. “See, I told you you had the heat up too high, Jolly.” Nicholas shoved the tall Swede in the shoulder earning him the same in return. Breathing a sigh, I put the bacon down and wiped my fingers on the paper leaning closely into Folio’s shoulder when came over, hugging me gently. I didn't let the way his face nuzzled my neck or the feeling of his fingers dancing on my back go unnoticed. It was sweet and innocent, but it made me feel so good, he had no idea how much. The way he smelled didn't help either and the gold crucifix hanging down around his neck gave off the perfect touch to his bad but oh so sweet boy attitude. Folio was becoming a weakness for me.

But my heart was holding a very deep secret for someone else and that terrified the shit out of me. I had already fallen for Noah; I knew that and wasn’t going to allow myself to deny it any longer. But there was still so much fear; so much anxiety. I had no reason to doubt Noah; no reason to think he'd ever hurt me, yet after all the years of abuse, my mind just wouldn’t let me let go. Noah had to prove himself to me. If he wanted me, he was going to have to work to get me. But I knew he’d never do it. Most men wouldn't. I knew this and was playing the fool to believe he would. Noah didn’t owe me anything, yet he’d already done for me more than anyone else in my entire life except Alex had, and somehow this was screwing with my head. It was creating boulders I couldn’t jump over reminding me I had to protect myself. 

“Hey,” Noah’s voice made me jump, pulling me from my thoughts. I gave him my best smile, mind blown by his appearance the moment I looked at him. He had on a white t-shirt of God playing basketball with the Devil, one that I recognized well, and a pair of black joggers. His hair was disheveled but the perfect length, reminding me of an anime character I'd seen before. “It's really nice to see you up and about.” Noah's smile was genuine, but shy, different from the man I remembered days ago. “It's nice to feel a little normal again,” I replied with my best smile, even though I was nothing but a bundle of tangled nerves that I hoped Noah couldn't see, but if he did, he was really good at hiding it. I looked around the kitchen and grimaced at the sight of everything. “Dude, your kitchen is a wreck.” We both chuckled, Noah running his hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he said, sighing while looking around at all the dirty dishes and countertop. “Jolly tries but,” he threw his hands out at the mess. My forehead creased in confusion. “If this is what happens every time Jolly tries to cook then how do you eat?” Blank expressions stared back at me. “Okay, better question, who knows how to cook?” “Does Ramen and cereal count,” Nicholas asked, trying to hide his grin. I rolled my eyes and groaned. “To be fair, we're not home enough. Door Dash and take out are pretty good alternatives,” trying his best to defend himself and his friends. I laid a hand gently on his shoulder, laughing. “Alright, fair enough, but after we clean up this kitchen I’m making you guys a proper breakfast.” “Oh thank God,” Folio exclaimed, laying a kiss on my cheek. Warmth spread over my skin and I knew I was blushing. I glanced at Noah, noticing his brooding expression as he crossed his arms over his chest and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was jealous. He had no reason to be, surely he knew that. Nick was just being friendly, like always. Shaking the thoughts away, I turned around and began clearing the counter of dishes, with Jolly’s help. I was too scared to look at Noah again, worried I’d upset him or made him angry. Maybe this was fates way of telling me to trust my gut; to start distancing myself from him and the whole situation before ending up accidently hurting him or someone close to him. I was leaving soon, so it made sense. I risked a glance at him again, only to find he was gone and I breathed a sigh. Jolly nudged my shoulder, asking me if I was okay, and I assured him I was, focusing back on the task at hand.

That afternoon, after breakfast and cleaning up, Jolly found me outside on the back patio, searching for an Uber pick-up. He scared me half to death the second he snuck up behind me and snatched my phone out of my hands. "Hey!", reaching for the phone out of Jolly’s long arms. "Don't hey me, ma'am. What do you think you're doing?" He glanced at the screen of my phone and his eyes blinked a couple of times. "Uber? Really Sophie?” His brows furrowed as he stared down at me. I folded my arms over my chest, chewing on my lip out of a nervous habit. Noah joined us, giving me a soft half-smile, but I quickly looked away. My mind was cluttered and I could feel the anxiety and pressure building up in me since breakfast. "What’s going on? Why are you looking up an Uber to your apartment?” I breathed in deeply thinking of how to explain it to him so he’d understand. "I need to go home, Jolly. This was never meant to be long term. Shit, it was really only supposed to overnight, yet here I am; still.” ‘What do you mean still? You make it sound like it’s a problem.” “It is,” I emphasized with wide eyes and tossing my hands up. “I’ve dumped my shit on you guys long enough and that’s something I never do. I don’t ask for help, I don’t burden others with my life, with things they can’t fix. There’s no point.” Throwing my hands on my hips, I walked over to the balcony, looking out into the valley below. Life was in full swing down there. That's what I had to do. I had to get back to reality even if it was hell. I had responsibilities that I couldn’t neglect. 

“I get it, Soph,” Jolly assured me, laying his hand gently on my shoulder. “Being a stranger in a place that’s not your home can be hard. I felt that when coming here from Sweden. I had a tough time at first and if it wasn’t for Noah, I would have gone back home.” We both turned to look at him. He was leaning against the side of the house, one foot pressed against the well, and hands folded over his chest. When he looked at me, my breath hitched and I swallowed hard. It was the same way he looked at me at the show; like he could see right through me. Maybe he did; in the best way possible. All the anxiety I was feeling melted away and his reassuring smile brough one to my own face.

“I know you’re anxious to get back to real life Sophie, but ask yourself if you’re ready. Going back to your apartment is likely to trigger something, something you might not be ready for yet.” I looked up into Jolly’s face. His features were so defined and strong and the way he carried himself made him seem a lot older than he really was. Jolly was gentle and had a big heart. He cared so much for so many things and people. “Thank you for understanding, Jolly. It's nice to have someone who does,” I grinned. He nodded his head towards Noah. “I’m not the only one. He’s crazy about you, Sophie. He’s just confused and has a lot of mixed emotions about everything that’s happening. Noah can be very complicated and complex. He’s not like most people. But once he’s made up his mind, he doesn’t change it. He follows through with whatever choice he’s made.” I nodded slowly at Jolly, indicating I understood. “So, has he made up his mind about me, you think?”, lowering my eyes, afraid of the answer. “Yeah, I think he has. That’s why he looks at you the way he does.” “How,” scrunching my brows together. Jolly smiled, huffing a laugh. “Like you put all the stars in the sky.” My heart skipped a few beats when hearing Jolly’s words. “He won’t let you go back alone, Sophie. He’s made that decision for himself already. Please try to understand where he’s coming from too, before making any of your own decisions. Whether you like it or not, there’s a heart involved now; well a few hearts really.” Jolly winked at me and took me into his arms, hugging me tight. After placing a small kiss on my forehead, he left Noah and I alone. 

 I turned my back on the view of the valley and set my sights on something better; a tall, slender, tattooed man with dark chocolate almond eyes, hair to die for, and a heart that was feeling more for me than it should. He was staring at me too, and for the first time I caught a glimpse of what Jolly had said; Noah was looking at me like I had put the stars in the sky. I suddenly yearned to be near him, so I casually drifted over to the side of the house where he was still standing.

“Hey,” softly kicking his foot with the tip of my toes. “Hey back,” he answered, his dark eyes wandering over me. “You okay?” I asked because even though he seemed fine, I knew he wasn't. I don't know how I knew, gut feeling maybe, but I just knew. “I’m okay. Just didn’t sleep well last night.” “I’m sorry. Anything in particular keeping you up?” Noah stuck out his bottom lip, shaking his head. “Insomnia. I don’t sleep well anyway. For some reason, I couldn’t find the right thing to listen to on my Calm app. Couldn't make the right decision.” He shrugged his broad shoulders with his arms still folded across his chest. Shoving my hands in my back pockets, I couldn't resist saying, “Well, maybe you should try making a bad decision instead of a right decision.” Noah's face lit up, and he chuckled, moving toward me and away from the side of the house. “Ha ha ha, very funny.” Brushing up against me, I could feel his body heat and smell his cologne. He was to die for. “Maybe you could be my bad decision,” he suggested, looking down at me with his chest almost flushed against mine, causing me to take a slightly deep breath. Noah's confession weakened me, sending shockwaves of excitement and arousal to places where they shouldn't have gone. At least not yet, not this soon. He slipped a finger under my chin and raised my face to look at me. The colors of his tattoos appeared to be crawling out of his shirt, as if choking him, and I couldn't resist the urge to touch him. Moving my eyes to his neck, I trailed my fingertips slowly down his partially exposed skin, feeling his breath hitch, stopping just at the collar of his white t-shirt. Noah brought his hand up to mine and laid it on top, our eyes darting back and forth with each other's. “You have incredible eyes.” I grinned at his confession. “So do you.” I knew he wasn’t in love with me, but damn! His eyes said “I love you” every time they locked on mine. They made me want to give in to him; emotionally, mentally, and physically. But I was afraid and knew that in the end, I would end up regretting it all anyway. Trust was a difficult thing for me, and if I couldn’t get a man like Perry to love me the way I wanted, the way I needed, what made me think Noah would. I was a basket case, a problem he didn’t need or deserve no matter what our emotions were saying. Noah was better off without me being a thorn in his side. Clearing my throat, I took a step back. Noah let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry, I got a little too close. Personal space, you know,” admitting shyly. I grinned at him, hoping he knew I wasn’t offended. “It’s fine. I don’t mind you in my personal space.” Shit. Where did that come from? Looking away to avoid his questioning stare, I looked back behind me out into the distant valley, remembering what I was planning to do. 

“I, uh, I really need to go back to my apartment,” I said, turning back around and letting my eyes glance at Noah for a moment. He was still looking at me, but turned away the instant our eyes met. “I thought Jolly talked you into staying a bit more.” “Not to stay. I just need to get some things. My laptop and work stuff; toiletries, clothes, that kind of stuff.” Noah relaxed, nodding. “You don’t like hanging out in my clothes?”, he joked but acted offended. “Noah, I could live in your hoodies and oversized joggers for the rest of my life, but I don't think the world would appreciate seeing me like that.” In one long stride, Noah closed the gap between us again, sliding his hand behind my head. My heart was pounding with how easily he could make me weak for him. “Fuck the world. You do what makes you feel good.” I let out a very nervous laugh. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea.” “Why not?” he asked, leaning down, closer to my face. “Because,” I said, barely above a whisper. “If I did what made me feel good, we’d both be in so much trouble, Noah.” I risked a glance up at him, seeing how hard he was fighting the urge and impulse running through his mind. “I don’t mind trouble,” he confessed, his lips moving closer to mine. “Oh fuck” I thought to myself. If he kissed me, there was no holding back. “You should,” I suggested. “Well, I guess I’ll stop looking for trouble since you’re right here then.” My insides exploded, causing my panties to become wet, the tingles and arousal to rip through my body, as his words completely decimated my thoughts. “Hey Noah, Jolly wants to know,” Folio was standing at the entrance of the house, the back door thrown wide open as he stood there speechless, looking at the two of us. “Fuck, sorry brother,” he sweetly apologized, turning to leave. “Nick, stop,” Noah called out, instantly letting me go and leaving me for his friend. Releasing the breath I was holding, I quickly rushed past both of them and back up into the bedroom where I poured out every scream and tear I’d been holding in. 

CHAPTER 5 PT 2

[bigassbowlingballhead]

okay, i'm a little nervous.

With all the fics I've been reading lately, my own ideas have started forming in my head. It started as an innocent conversation with @eusuntgratie about Orville Peck and TZP. Next thing I knew, I had written over 2k words about Alex getting the golden bronco costume as a surprise for Henry who had recently become obsessed with the masked troubadour.

Thought I'd share a bit, just to put it out there. It's the first time I've written anymore than a tumblr post in over a decade.

That’s when he sees it, new on display a shiny gold mask with two angular eye cutouts, stars delicately stitched on to the sides. There are long golden corded tassels that drape down to cover the mouth, chin, neck, and part way down the chest. It’s beautiful. Alex paused. That’s when the idea struck. Alex’s ideas tend to be really really good or get him into trouble. This was one of those he hoped would be both. Alex liked both. He picks up the mask, grabs some of their favorite lube they’re running low on and some rope for good measure, this might come in handy, he thinks. He brings his hauls to the sales associate, pays and leaves.  When he gets back to the car he takes the mask out of the bag and looks at it. It really is a work of art. But it’s not enough. He has to do more, he wants to really blow Henry out of the water. He’s been so stressed writing and really just wants him to relax, and he thinks he knows just the thing.  He’s seen the look in Henry’s eye whenever he puts the album on. The lingering glances from the album cover to Alex. He can’t really blame Henry, Orville Peck is hot, like really fucking hot. Especially on the album cover, he’s studied the cover multiple times, he’s practically committed it to memory. A slender man stands in front of a black bronco on it’s hind-legs in a black cowboy hat, a golden vest exposes the man’s tattooed and toned chest and shoulders and biceps, gold pants that hug the man’s crotch leaving very little to the imagination, his large hands hang next to his hips like they’re resting on imaginary holsters, a single finger raised as if ready to pull the trigger, a large golden belt buckle emblazoned with a star connects where there’s clearly a gap of skin between the vest and pants, black boots complete the look. He wonders if it’s the man or the mask that intrigues Henry. Alex pictures himself standing in front of that bronco, shit, he would look hot.

[lovelytsunoda]

dasher // nyck de vries

summary: its christmas in the netherlands, and nyck thought it would be a wonderful idea to bring y/n home to meet his family and feel what a small town winter is like. too bad she never told nyck that she didn’t know how to ice skate.

pairing: nyck de vries x female! reader

warnings: reader doesn't know how to ice skate, just general winter fluff :) minor mention of anxiety, especially over meeting nyck's parents for the first time, but it's barely there! small mention of blood.

author's note: i'm so excited to bring you guys the christmas collection !! holiday themed fluff (some minor angst by way of my mick schumacher fic), me wishing i had a boyfriend and my favourite holiday songs. i have fics planned for zhou, mick, george, pierre, daniel, charles, alex and lance. hope you guys enjoy : )

friesland, the netherlands.

the snow fell down in flakes as she sat on the windowledge, still dressed in her flannel pajamas and clutching a mug of hot chocolate in her hands as she rested her head against the window. her breath fogged up the glass as she breathed, and she found herself grinning as she drew a small christmas tree in the haze.

there was a knock on the bedroom door, followed by the creak of the hinges to indicate that the door had been opened.

"hey, baby." nyck smiled from the doorway, fully dressed and hair still damp from the shower. "i wondered if you might have been hiding up here."

"hiding from your parents? me? no, of course not." she remarked sarcastically, getting up from her window seat and crossing the guest bedroom to kiss her boyfriend softly. "it's just harder to win your parents over than i thought. my anxiety isn't being super friendly to me this morning."

"i'm sorry, darling. is there anything i can do?"

"a distraction might be nice."

nyck raised his eyebrows. " a distraction, you say?"

"not the kind of distraction that you're thinking of, casanova." y/n laughs, resting her forehead against his, trying to steal as much of the driver's body heat as she could. "i just want to spend some time with you. i feel like we haven't done too much of that since we got here."

"then today is going to be all about me and you. seychelle and my parents are going to the winter market. we were invited, but we can go out and do something else, or we can stay in if that's what you want."

"let's go outside and do something. i've barely seen the village."

nyck smiled kissing her on the forehead. "i've got a great idea. let me run downstairs and put some stuff together. dress warm, you'll need it out there."

she kissed him gently, whispering her affections to the driver as he ducked out of the room, leaving her to get dressed.

it was hard for the imposter syndrome not to set in. he was the hendrik johannes nicasius de vries, formula two and formula e champion. she hadn't even known that nyck was famous until their fourth date, when a group of fans accosted them in the streets. and as much as nyck reassured her that she was the one for him, every so often she wondered if he could do better than her.

coming back home to the netherlands with nyck felt like a nail in the coffin. it was a small village with an impossible name, and less than one thousand people. it was the kind of place where everybody knew everybody else.

and they sure as hell all knew who nyck de vries was.

she reminded herself to breathe, lacing strands of her hair into a fishtail braid before pulling a fair isle patterned sweater overtop of her tight, white turtleneck.

she grabbed her mug, exiting the room and jogging downstairs, anxiety spiking at the thought of running into nyck's mother, or even worse, his dad.

she exhaled when she realized that the kitchen was empty, save for nyck, who was filling a thermos with his mother's homemade hot chocolate.

"my parents just left, they're outside warming up the car." nyck said, passing her a covered breakfast plate. "my mom made you breakfast. she's a little worried about you. she likes you more than you think she does."

"i'm sure i'm just overreacting." y/n agreed, sitting down at the kitchen table and taking a bite out of the crispy bacon strip on her plate.

"it's okay, really. don't beat yourself up about it. i get it. meeting family is terrifying." nyck soothed, sitting next to her at the table. "now, i've got us a whole day planned."

true to his word, the whole morning with nyck had been a dream: homemade pastries in the town square, hot chocolate and a relaxing walk down main street, boots crunching over the snow. a disposable camera roll full of pictures of the two of them that she would get developed as soon as they were back in monaco.

with her hand in his, nyck and y/n walked in a cloud of love, laughter and smiles as the dutchman lead them to the final destination of the afternoon.

in the middle of the village, a large pond had frozen over, pairs and small groups of people ice skating with hands intertwined, dressed in thick mittens and hats with pom-poms on top.

"oh, nyck." y/n said softly. "this was such a sweet idea, but i need to tell you something."

nyck's face fell. "is everything all right, love?"

she laughed softly. "i can't skate, nyck. i never learned."

"that's it?" nyck laughed. "right, let's get you some skates. lucky for you, i'm a great teacher."

the wind kissed their skin, cheeks and noses bleached pink from the cold as the couple strapped on the rented ice skates. y/n was wobbly on her feet as she gripped nyck's arm, blades crunching over the frozen ground as the duo slowly stepped onto the ice.

she felt her foot slide forward, her mind instantly filling with panicked images of wiping out, breaking bones, blood splattered on ice.

"you're okay." nyck said softly, his breath warm against her skin. "just hang on to me."

"okay."

"just put one foot in front of the other, darling."

at first, everything went smoothly. so long as y/n held on to nyck, her anxiety subsided. she just kept putting one foot in front of the other, blades skimming the ice and creating soft scratches on the pond's surface.

"see, it's not that hard. muscle memory, babe. once you figure it out, you'll never forget it."

the couple just kept moving in the large oval, circling around with the rest of the patrons, with y/n becoming more and more confident in herself with every move she made, slowly releasing her hold on nyck.

nyck let go of her hand, confident that now she could skate at least a few feet forwards on her own two feet.

but once she felt nyck's hand let go of hers, she faltered, stomach sinking as she felt the blades on the bottom of the skates lose contact with the ice, unable to stop herself from falling backwards and landing on her tailbone.

"shit!" she shouted, garnering looks from mothers now covering the ears of their small children.

nyck laughed, reaching out his hands to help her back to her feet.

"you're a goddamn liar, de vries." she laughed. "i guess i'll jsut have to hold on to you forever now."

nyck smiled, gently kissing her forehead. "that sounds like a plan to me."

_____

tags: @sidcrosbyspuck @flannel-cures @libraryofloveletters @diorleclerc @magnummagnussen @daydreamingleclerc

[beautifulhigh]

No, I can't believe I'm sharing something either, but a few things happened this week:

1. my brain and my muse got WICKED inspired and @wtfuckevenknows only fed the flames

2. @kiwiana-writes is amazing and generous and is helping me bring it to life

3. this is technically not a WiP as it's done, it just needs putting together. So consider this a tease of what's to come.

----

A part of Alex thinks they should be used to this. Their entire relationship up to this point has been long distance. He tries not to think about the fact that they haven't spent longer than a week in each other's company and they're talking about the Brownstone and their life together in New York. There's a not-so-quiet voice in the back of his head telling him that they don't need to rush this. Forever has the wonderful quality of being, well, forever.

Just because the election is over it doesn't mean there isn't shit to do. Apparently a second inauguration is just as ridiculous and overwhelming as it was the first time around, but hey – at least he's not planning a move into one of the most iconic buildings in this country on top of it.

It would be more bearable if Henry wasn't being swept up in whatever pageantry the Royal Family was making him go through in the run up to Christmas.

"I'm almost tempted to formally invite you to join us this year," Henry said, "if only to see Gran's reaction. But I wouldn't subject anyone to the regimen that is Christmas Day with us."

"Timetabled to the second?" Alex joked. And then he saw Henry's face. "Fuck."

"I'll send you a photo when it's finalised."

"So I won't get to speak to you on the day?"

"Maybe late on. We'll sort something out."

"I miss you."

Henry sighs, his fingers rubbing at the top of his phone screen in the way he did when he wished he could reach through the technology and across the sea. "Sure you'll find something to keep you busy."

*

*

He does.

Alex is nothing if not someone to take advantage of a situation.

----

I have no idea who has anything to share so this is your open tag to post and tag me! Let's keep my muse engaged and maybe she'll stick around.

[a-m-pyra]

First Burn: Ch3 Indian Summer (American McGee's Alice/Lies of P)

Everyone was acting strange, even Gemini. They gave him strange smiles, Otto humming quietly to himself, coming up to him every hour and telling him how many hours remained until the meeting.

P didn't understand what all the fuss was about at all, instead he finished redrawing Alice's portrait onto a sheet of paper so he could give it to her.

“Why is everyone acting so strange? Is it because I invited Alice for a walk? What's so strange about that?”

“You know, pal,” Gemini began, “as a rule, when a young man invites a lady out, it's not for, well, platonic purposes.”

P's eyes widened. If he could, he would definitely blush.

“That's not the point at all!”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of…”

"I am not ashamed!"

He put down his pencil and put his hands on his knees, wondering for a moment what he really wanted to say. He slid further into the chair and tucked his legs under him.

“She's nice to me. Seems interesting; her person and her work. She works in the theater, sews costumes and likes it. Is there anything more interesting than a person who comes true?” He grabbed his pencil again, perfecting the sketch.

He heard the door open. He didn't even have to turn around to know it was Otto; and his suspicions were only confirmed when slender fingers grabbed his arms and a glimpse of red strands of hair appeared in the corner of his eye.

“Thirty minutes, P. I think you should start getting ready.”

He pursed his lips and turned his head to look at Otto.

“Why do you all think I like Alice in that way?”

“Because if it were otherwise, it wouldn't be bothering you so much,” Otto replied in the most assertive tone of voice he had ever heard. “Up to a certain point I thought it was a joke, but now…” He looked at the portrait, “You see.”

P sighed and reached for the frame to frame the drawing — it was one of the ones Mrs. Seymour used to frame her cards, and it was perfect for framing the drawing.

“You won't answer?” Otto asked as P stood up to reach for his bag where he had put his sketchbook, pencils and drawing.

“I will not answer.”

“Are you taking Gemini with you?”

“Of course he's taking me. I have to be a chaperone.”

“Stupid rules,” P muttered under his breath, still hoping that he would be able to spend time alone with Alice. Only then did Gemini make him realize that a single woman and a bachelor walking alone were considered extremely indecent.

“I can go,” Otto suggested, and P rolled his eyes this time.

That sounded like an even worse scenario. Otto listening to their conversations, seeing every uncertainty, with full permission to act like Otto. At least Gemini had promised not to comment on their conversations or actions in any way unless the above were inappropriate — something he couldn't be sure of with Otto.

Gemini chirped.

“I think you would be a bit liberal chaperon.”

Otto laughed.

“Right.”

P slung his coat over his bent arm and his bag over his shoulder. He had Gemini's lamp attached to his belt.

“We'd better go to the ground floor.”

Otto sat at the table with P; and they waited. Alice showed up on time with basket in hand. There was a blanket and small snacks there; nothing that would burden her additionally, but P, ​​following Gemini's advice, decided to take the basket from her.

She smiled at him, and then he helped her get into the cart that would take them to Hyde Park, and once they arrived, they began looking for a good place to set up the picnic blanket; somewhere with a little less people.

“Where did the idea of ​​inviting me come from?” she continued, and P thought for a moment.

“Otto suggested this idea, and I… I thought it would be nice to talk in a place where children wouldn't crowd under our feet.”

She laughed. He managed to make her laugh.

“If Alex gave you her blessing, then it looks like I have nothing to worry about.” She looked at Gemini. “And Gemini is not needed.”

There was a faint chirping sound.

“I'm here for decoration, don't worry about me.”

P looked at Alice, who smiled softly.

“Alex?”

Alice looked at him questioningly, then realized he didn't need to know that. Alex didn't tell him, and she didn't have the opportunity to do so either.

“Oh well. It's a bit strange for me to talk about Alex in the context of my mother. Don't get me wrong, I love her like a mother, and she is a mother to me, but addressing her this way is still something for me to process.”

“What do you mean?”

“Alex got married so she could list me as her daughter. We're not related, and neither is Clara.”

“What about your adoptive father?”

“He died a few months ago.”

She said it so lightly, as if his death had no effect on her, not now, not then, not ever.

“Both Alex and I knew he was doing us such a favor, even if he was her friend. I just feel sorry for Clara.”

“Mrs. Seymour does not seem affected by the loss.”

“Because she isn't. It wasn't a good marriage. They reached out as friends, but it eventually had to fall apart. Difference of views and characters. When Alex reopened the orphanage, she actually moved in there immediately, and she found out about Reginald's death from the housekeeper.”

“How did she react?”

Alice was silent for a moment.

“Relief. She was happy. Free.”

“And you?”

She shrugged.

“I didn't care. I cried at the funeral out of courtesy and for Clara. I never built a bond with Reginald; in fact, Alex’s friend is more like a father to me than he was.” She passed him and turned to look at him, walking backwards. “But let's stop talking about me. What brought you to London, puppet hunter?” She smiled at him with a challenge on her face.

“You'll fall over.”

“Not at all. At most, I'll bump into someone.”

He sighed and glanced behind her, just in case she ran into someone innocent as a lamb.

“After all this, Venigni said I looked different. More sick. Then Eugénie told me this, next Sophia. Even Gemini noticed that something was wrong.”

“Explain, please.”

He grabbed her hand, pulling her aside and keeping her from bumping into the older couple.

Her hand was soft and warm. For a moment, he forgot what she had asked him, focusing on the feeling her touch evoked.

“You better grab my arm and let's walk side by side. This will make you less likely to hurt yourself.”

She rolled her eyes in amusement and did as he said.

“And so? Will you explain?”

P tightened the legion arm, then stretched his fingers.

“You don't have to if you don't want to.”

“If you tell me how you and Mrs. Seymour met.”

“Deal.”

P told her everything; how Sophia brought him to life; about puppet hunting; about the father, Ergo, Carlo and Romeo; about the death of Lady Antonia, Geppetto's plan and the rescue of Sophia.

He took so long to talk about it that they managed to find a good place to spread a blanket and rest.

Under a tree where practically no one was hanging around.

Alice listened and didn't interrupt him. She was quiet, looking at him as he spoke.

“I think I understand how you feel. I know what it's like... not knowing who you really are.”

“Mrs. Seymour says that even if I have Carlo’s Ergo in me, I don't have to identify with him. That I have reevaluated his ego and values ​​because of me.”

“And? What do you think about it?”

“I think I like this version. I think Carlo would be happy that I am the way I am now and not the way my father wanted me to be.” He looked at her and smiled gently. “Now it's your turn.”

“It’s easy, actually. Alex and I met when I was maybe five years old. She attended lectures and appeared at meetings with students. She befriended my sister and charmed my parents. She, Jacob and Elizabeth were The Incredible Three. My father always got crazy because if something happened, it was always their fault. A big pub dance? The Incredible Three. Kidnapping a bride who was sold to a count? The Incredible Three. Throwing the party of the decade in a room that was maybe seventeen feet by seventeen feet for a boring banquet? Alex, Jacob and Lizzie. Everyone was covering for everyone, including my and Lizzie’s parents, they were covering all three of them.”

He saw the nostalgic smile on her face and he laughed quietly.

“I never thought Mrs. Seymour could be so rebellious… ever.”

“Wait until Jacob comes to the sabbath, then you will see what it means to be rebellious.”

They both laughed.

“Nevertheless, Alex was in my life from an early age. And she was also there at the most important moment, my recovery after the fire in which everyone died. My entire biological family. She didn't leave me even for a moment, she was always there when I needed her. And then... the nurse separated us. I came under the care of Angus Bumby when the orphanage at Houndsditch was still called the Home for Wayward Youth. Alex fought for us to be able to see each other and... we finally succeeded. She married Reginald, adopted me, and here we are. A family of three women.”

“What happened to the previous director?”

He saw Alice's face tense.

“I'll tell you when I'm ready. All right?”

He nodded, he had no intention of forcing her to do anything.

“God, I would forget. I have something for you.”

“For me?”

P reached into his bag and pulled out Alice's portrait. He looked at it for a moment and handed it to her with his heart in his mouth. All the tension in his body disappeared only when she covered her mouth with her hand and her eyes sparkled with a mixture of surprise and happiness.

“Is that me?”

“I drew it yesterday, after you left for work. I just...couldn't resist, sorry.” He lowered his head.

“No! Don’t apologize. It's beautiful, thank you.”

He saw that she was looking at the drawing.

“It's just that no one has ever drawn me. And definitely… not like that.”

The atmosphere between them thinned. They felt much more at ease. P and Alice lay down on the blanket, looking at the cloudless sky and the leaves above them.

“Did you think what would have happened if it hadn't been for the fire?”

She frowned, thinking for a moment.

“I would definitely still live with my parents in Oxford, Alex and Lizzie would still be together. I certainly wouldn't have to work in the theater. Who knows, maybe it would be the case that I wouldn't be able to fulfill my dream.”

“At first, together?”

“I lied. They weren't friends.”

Alice reached out her hand, catching the gossamer that fluttered between her fingers.

“I don't remember the last time I saw gossamer.”

“I've never seen it.”

“When I was younger and went picking herbs with Alex in the early fall, it was full of it. Alex’s grandma and later Alex even had a superstition about these spider webs.”

“Really?”

“Mhm! If a young, unmarried lady catches a gossamer during a flight, she can expect to find her future husband. Less often, a lover. The gossamer was supposed to symbolize the wedding veil.”

“Do you believe in this superstition?”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She was silent, unable to utter a single word.

“I… I take it with a grain of salt. If it weren't for society, I wouldn't mind living without a husband, children and all of that.”

“I see. But I haven't asked about the second thing yet.”

“Ask me, then.”

“What dream?”

Alice sat up, drawing her legs up to her chest.

“I'm planning to make a musical.”

P was listening with incredible interest about the Alice’s musical, first listening to the story she had read, and only then listening to the plan for adaptation.

“I'm planning a show in the style of a 1866 extravaganza. Only… maybe with less dancing, at least that done by the main actors, I can't imagine the actress playing Victoria dancing burlesque… Oh!”

He could see her eyes sparkle with joy, and her whole body was overcome with excitement.

“And with even more music, I wanted it to be almost all sung and only the important parts spoken. Besides, I have some ideas on how to make some of the songs — Élise would, for example, sing throughout the entire show, but Victoria, Victor, Lucien and a few other characters would have lines sung, although not many of them, and rhythmically recited! I imagine that Sir Interdit would be a kind of narrator of the entire play, although, of course, as a member of the Priory of Sion, in which Victoria was a member, he would also be the narrator in the plot. Alex and Jacob are helping me compose the music, and I'm finishing the script and costume concepts. And then I will give it all to the director of the theater with the hope that he will agree.”

“And what will you name it?”

“Cruel. Vicious. Vengeful.”