#and then he rests his hand on alex's shoulder as he looks on in wonder i'm--🥺💕

[v-tired-queer]

WHY is no one talking about the absolutely adorable moment when Henry sees the Claremont-Diaz family photos and goes "Oh. My. Goodness. 😯💕💞"???

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

13 — THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS BAD THOUGHTS, ONLY YOUR ACTIONS TALK

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. read on wattpad. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

You’d, somehow, forgotten just how… vibrant two of your oldest friends were.

With the blades of the helicopter still spinning, the deafening sound of aircrafts around you, and a steady mist of rain, your body collides with another.

“Oi, watch it!” You exclaim, a beaming smile stretched over your features as the bulky, oblivious man squeezes his arms around your torso and buries his head into your neck. “You smell like gunpowder. And your fiancée.”

His voice comes out muffled against your skin. “And you smell like cheap body wash.”

He squeezes you once more before finally letting you go, his dimples deep and hair soggy with rain. You study his features, the sharpness of his jaw and the dusting of brunette against it. Him. One of your oldest friends in the military.

He looses a breath, eyes meeting yours and his hands falling to your shoulders, a comforting weight. You don’t have any words, can’t find them, so all that leaves your lips is a single name.

“Alex,” you whisper, voice breaking in the middle, heart a sore throb in your chest.

The storm clouds above paint the world around you in harsh greys and physical manifestations of sadness – but in it all, your light has arrived. 

And how powerful it is.

“Moonflower!” A deeply familiar, feminine voice shouts, and you spread your arms wide and accept the body that crashes against your own. Your laugh is startled and pure, but relief and serotonin floods your system as warm as the embrace you’re surrounded in.

You’d found solace and even a home in your solitude, your loneliness, but now? 

Now, with the only two people in your life that have remained by your side, no matter the distance, holding you in their embrace?

It feels like family, even if you know there isn’t a space between the two of them for you to fit in – no crevice large enough for you to ever comfortably merge.

A foster family, maybe. Or a found one, however tenuous and distant.

“I missed you both so much,” you murmur, voice cracking slightly. You clear your throat, inhaling a trembling breath as you squeeze your eyes shut and rest your face in the crook of her neck. She smells of an odd mixture of her usual perfume, and Alex’s cologne.

You wonder if you’ll still have enough limbs attached to get to their wedding, by the time everything has been dealt with.

If you’ll even have a head attached.

It’s a small eternity (or maybe a few seconds, or maybe a few years) until she pulls away, a glint in her eyes that seems a concoction of pity and strength.

“You look stunning, Farah,” you grin, and your cheeks burn with the odd sensation of joy.

She crinkles her nose, dark stray hairs flying across her face from the continuing wind of both winter and the helicopter. Her skin glows with health – and you realise, then, how even with the stress of reconstructing a nation, she’s happy. Honest and unrepentant and golden. A survivor of war, but a survivor nonetheless.

Raising a brow, she returns, “You look like shit.”

A chuckle leaves your throat, the familiarity that is Farah’s honesty akin to a hot chocolate and a blanket wrapped around a freezing frame.

“You look like you’ve been injured,” Alex adds, a small wince gracing his features. He’s miraculously found himself once more at Farah’s side, not unlike a loyal guard dog. 

A guard dog guarding a lion, maybe, but a guard dog nonetheless.

“Unlike you two,” you chastise, folding your arms and burying your cold hands in the space between your bicep and breasts, “I’m at war.”

“With the guy we warned you about,” Farah raises her brow, voice acidic and biting. “The guy we told you was going to ruin your life?”

“There’s a difference between ruining my life, and quite literally ruining my life,” you counter, watching a cloud of breath hang in the air, chilled by the evening cold, before dissipating into the breeze.

“He can continue ruining your life inside,” Alex cuts in, a hand falling against the dip of Farah’s spine, and the other moving to rest between your shoulder blades. He applies just enough pressure to be convincing, but not demanding.

It may as well be a demand, however, with how weak your mindscape seems to be in the face of comfort and familiarity. 

The base seems small, even with the short distance, a reminder of how self-contained and cataclysmic your life has become (has always been). It’s well past eight, now, and with the winter hours it’s almost pitch black already. A few stars decorate the black landscape, this far out from most light pollution. Your eyes stray to the glistening balls of flame, and you wonder if someday soon you’ll find yourself amongst them.

Two duffel bags hang off of Alex’s shoulder, and it sparks your interest. 

“How long are you two planning to stay?” You ask, as if they’re merely old friends staying for a weekend, catching up over bottles of wine and damaged decks of cards. 

They both shrug, almost in sync. Your heart thunders in your chest at the small display of how attuned they are with each other – how in love. It’s Farah who answers, simply, “However long it will take.”

When you look down to your boots, ripples of water against sleek concrete cascading beneath each footfall, it’s merely to hide the stretch of a smile that braces your chapped lips. Your voice is small, uncharacteristically vulnerable, when you mutter to the ground, “Thank you.”

“We owe you, hell, we owe you more than a dozen lifetimes for what you’ve done for us,” Alex scoffs, the gratitude rolling off of him unlike the rain soaking his long-sleeved v-neck. 

“Let’s just call this even, then,” you retort, lifting your head once more, allowing them both to see the softened curve of your mouth, the gentle slope of your brows.

The rain has paused its pouring, but a whole other kind of thunderstorm awaits the three of you in the entry of the base.

When you’d called Farah and Alex – just two nights ago, mere minutes after finishing your meal with Ghost and Soap – you hadn’t spared many details about Graves. You’d told them of your betrayal, of your thoughts, of the adrenaline rush that was that last fight with him.

What you hadn’t disclosed was your increasingly peculiar arrangement with the 141. Or your tryst with Gaz. Or your mess of feelings, as a whole.

So, really, you hadn’t told them much in the realm of everything.

Now, seeing the outline of four starkly familiar profiles, waiting underneath the small awning above the entrance to the base, you regret leaving such vital pieces of information out of your hours-long call.

“This is the one first impression you don’t want to fuck up,” is all you manage to grate out to the two beside you, before you fall into hearing distance of the very imposing image the 141 has managed to portray. Sometimes, you forget how genuinely daunting the four men are, with the different lights you’ve seen them in.

This is not one of those times.

As soon as the light sitting at the door shines against the three of you, Soap startles forward, clad in only a tight-fitting grey shirt, with a hefty leather jacket in his grip. When he reaches you, not even glancing at the newcomers, he pulls the jacket over your shoulders, warm and gun-rough hands brushing the soft skin of your neck as he does so.

“Impatient, lass, runnin’ off into the rain without any feckin’ layers,” he reprimands, without any bite at all.

You’re stumped, for a moment, before shaking your head lightly and stepping away from the utterly confusing man. With a dramatic flourish of a hand gesture, you motion towards your left. 

Thankfully, Soap hadn’t met you too far out, so it only takes a few steps before you’re standing before the other three. A healthy dose of scepticism and tension fills the air between you all, and while you could certainly do without it, it still stings.

Just as you’re about to introduce everyone, despite Soap’s oddly rude behaviour, Price interrupts.

“Bloody hell, small world, ain’t it?” He chuckles, throaty and pleased, muscle-corded arms folded over his chest. His smile is like a beam in the dark of night.

“Thought it’d be a nice surprise, old man,” Farah returns, bringing out her hand for him to shake with a firm grip, both comfortable and at ease in each other’s presence. When Farah goes to pull away, however, Price stops her from doing so with wide eyes, laser-focused on her ring-adorned finger.

“Well I’ll be damned, Alex, how’d you convince her to deal with your arse for eternity?” Price teases, and while you expect the younger man to hit back, he simply beams.

The three seem to be in their own little world, with you, Soap, Gaz and Ghost being left with raised brows. 

“Oh, sorry, guys,” Alex raises a hand, having the decency to look sheepish. His eyes trail along the 141 warily, before meeting your own eyes, relaxing slightly under your gaze. He seems reluctant to break the contact, but does so nonetheless, words directed at the 141 as he says, “Price is an old friend.”

Farah and Price break their quiet conversation, directing their attention back to the group at large. It’s quiet, for a moment, which is a blessing considering the large personalities at hand.

You’re the one to break it.

“Well,” you start, a sudden burst of anxiety sparking in your stomach – you hadn’t considered the merging of your two lives, of past and present, the clashing of…

Oh. God.

Oh God. Oh God, you had almost forgotten that, but if you had, maybe they did, too? Yes. Definitely. It’ll be fine.

(It won’t be fine, you’re more certain, but a little lie to yourself can’t hurt. Much.)

You continue, not a breath out of place despite your internal thoughts, “Farah, Alex, meet the 141.”

Gesturing to the four men, meeting all of their eyes, you then gesture to the other two. “Guys, meet Farah and Alex.”

Silence fills the space between you all for a mere moment – just past a second, really – but it’s damning and heavy all the same. It has your chest tightening and your throat constricting, not unlike a thread of rope being pulled taut around the curve of your neck. 

“Thank you for taking care of her,” Farah says, voice steady and calculated. Defensive, really.

Gaz’s eyes narrow, his voice perfectly even and sickly sweet as he responds, “I can promise you, the last thing Sweetheart needs is to be taken care of.”

It’s… tense.

You’d, of course, expected that it would take some time for Farah and Alex to become anything close to friendly with the 141, but this feels different. A kind of static alights the air, a live wire sensitive to any spark that will instantly set it aflame.

“It’s good to see you again too, mate,” Alex smiles, but a sharp edge lines the curve of his lips. His eyes meet Gaz’s, and they don’t stray.

With a tight smile, Gaz responds, “Likewise.”

Ghost stands farthest from the group, a haunting spectre, shrouded in shadows with his arms folded over his chest and his hip resting against the wall. It’s impossible to see where, exactly, his eyes are trained – but you know they rest on you nonetheless.

Soap’s jacket remains a comforting weight on your shoulders, and although you’re loath to admit it even to yourself, it is miles better than the thin top you’d braved. He’s standing closest to you, on your right, posture straightened and imposing. He exudes a kind of energy you haven’t felt from him before, the closest being when you’d been separated from him post-surgery, maybe.

“Let’s have some tea, maybe, in the common room?” You ask, but it’s not really a request. Your tone is thick with insistence and command, and no one is in a place to deny you.

By the time you all make it to the common room – Alex and Farah comfortably speaking with Price, and you walking silently with Gaz, Ghost and Soap. The latter, especially, remaining a close presence at your side.

A few candles are lit against the windowsill, and a singular lamp sat against the large couch has been lit. No need for the blinding white light of the ceiling – just comfort and familiarity.

It feels at odds with the terse energy at hand, but simultaneously, a blessing.

Alex immediately takes a seat on the far right of the couch, at ease with himself and his surroundings. Gaz sits on the far left, leaving two spots between them. Without a word, Soap’s hand finds your lower back, and he virtually pulls you with him to sit between the two men. 

You find yourself stuck between Alex and Soap, with Ghost, Price and Farah more than happy to stand. Even if there was space, you doubt they’d choose to take a seat.

“We need to find out what Shepherd’s up to,” you speak, breaking the small talk between Price and Farah, as well as between Gaz and Soap. The room falls silent immediately. “And we need to find out what actually happened to my mother.”

The silence continues, and you find yourself pulling the leather jacket tighter around your frame – finding solace in the heat of the two men at either side of you. Your past and your present, both there, both helping.

It’s, surprisingly, Ghost who answers the sentiment first. 

“We’re at your disposal,” he simply says, as if it’s ever that simple. Maybe it can be, maybe it will be, with the powerhouse of a group that’s surrounding you now, with all of your history and feelings and sentiments. 

You can feel the seeds of hope in your chest begin to blossom, begin to shine underneath the rays of sunlight that are Ghost’s words.

“Are,” you roll your tongue in your mouth, feeling the words out before you speak them, “Are you all ready and willing to do this? Because if you’re not, I’m going to get the job done myself.”

It’s true, suicide mission or not. 

“Yer outta yer feckin’ mind if ya think we’re leavin’ ya behind now,” Soap scoffs, relaxing further into the couch as he throws his arm up and around the back of the couch, hand skimming your left shoulder. His thigh presses against your right one.

“You’re stuck with us now, Sweetheart,” Price shrugs, hands in his pockets.

Murmurings of agreement and similar sentiments echo around the group, and you find yourself exhaling such a deep breath that you’re sure it expels some decade-old air that had been stuck in the crevices of your lungs. 

“Hold on,” Farah raises her hand, brows furrowing as her other fist rests at her bucked hip. “What’s this whole Sweetheart thing about?”

Soap’s hand finds the nape of your neck, brushing away your hair to rest a firm grip around the warmed skin. Your heart skips a beat in your chest, and another when he responds, “Simple, aye? She’s a Sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s impossible to quell the growing grin that’s creeping onto your face. “This idiot,” you nod towards the Scot at your side, “Was bleeding out. Gave him some sweetheart lollies to help with the blood loss, and, well, here we are.”

“Here we are,” he echoes, his eyes trained on your profile. When you meet his eyes, for a mere second, it feels like an electric shock.

Alex, on your other side, glances at you through the corner of his eyes with a hint of conspiracy. He leans in, mouth just a hair away from your ear, when he asks, “Which one of them are you fucking? Or have they all tumbled into your bed?”

Your elbow to his side is more a knee-jerk reaction to his words than anything, but you’re at least decent enough to wince at his groan of pain. He clutches his side like he’s been shot on the field, head falling to rest against your chest with dramatic flourish. Both Gaz and Soap start, as if about to physically restrain the man, and your unamused gaze immediately finds the Sergeants.

What the actual fuck is up with everyone?

“Not a jealous woman, are you, Farah?” Ghost chimes, voice guttural where he stands just to your left, by the arm of the couch. You can’t say you’d forgotten his presence – even with his silence, it’s a tangible, physical weight on your shoulders – but it still startles you when he speaks.

Farah’s easy smile turns into a cryptic smirk instantaneously, and, fuck.

Maybe, very possibly, most likely definitely: they remembered. Or, at least, Farah did.

Fuck.

You suppose it’s not really a thing you forget, unless your mind’s an overfilled storage room of memories and current events and problems. Which yours most definitely is, and of which theirs is likely not.

“Can’t say I am. Not the first time they’ve gotten handsy,” she shrugs, as if it’s an obvious statement.

As if the room hasn’t instantly dropped approximately ten degrees, and your heart stops where it should be thrumming in your chest.

It’s almost funny, how you instantly train your attention to Gaz. How your mind immediately fears his expression, his reaction to such a thinly veiled sentiment.

What you see is the instant rising of walls, the shuttering of his eyes, and the stiffening of his frame.

You wonder how many missed heartbeats it takes to constitute a heart attack.

“Old fling, were they?” Price asks, because, really, of course he does. When you look to him, he deliberately keeps his gaze on Farah, not giving you a single glance. It’s not jealousy, you know, because it’s Price, and he, in no capacity, holds any such feelings towards you. But it’s something damning nonetheless.

Alex, oblivious idiot that he is, finally pulls his head back up with a sharp laugh. If you didn’t know him, you’d think it was malicious. “Nah. Just thought some experimentation with an extra partner would be fun, and, hey, she is pretty damn hot.”

“You’re a dickhead,” you chastise, suddenly aware of all the points that you and Alex touch – all the points that you and Soap touch. 

“Didn’t realise ye were into that,” Soap bites, abruptly, tone sharp and acrid. You barely suppress a shiver at the shift in the man’s attitude, in comparison to his usually jovial and good-natured attitude. 

“Didn’t realise you were into kink-shaming, either,” you retort, almost startling at your own defensiveness.

Ghost’s hum feels like a reprimand, akin to an owner using a dog whistle on their trusted border collie, or a dominatrix snapping her whip. 

“I don’t think threesomes are a kink?” Alex’s statement ends in a question, a confused look settling over his features. “Like, polyamory definitely isn’t, but what about one-offs? Babe, do you know?”

Farah doesn’t answer, not for a long while. Entirely too aware of the tension filling the room, of the dangerous game she’s about to partake in. The one Alex started, likely unknowingly, but started nonetheless.

“No. It’s not kink. But some of what we did was.”

For, well, not the first time in your life (or even the last week, really), but pretty darn close to it, you consider storming into the weapon supplies and shooting yourself.

“Well!” You exclaim, nervous laughter following the statement, palms clammy where you wipe them against your pants, “Farah, Alex, you probably need some rest, y’know, after your flight. I certainly need it.”

Standing before you even realise you are, you move to get the hell out of there, when Soap’s hand wraps around your wrist, and tugs you back down to sit even closer against him. When Alex’s hand finds your shoulder, you realise distantly that this must be a kind of tug of war. Or piggy in the middle.

Potato, patata. You’re the bait either way.

“The night’s still young,” Price cuts in, and everyone around you seems to nod. “Unless you’re uncomfortable, Sweetheart,” he adds, and the genuinity beneath his words turns into a threat of your pride in your head.

“I’m fine,” you straighten your shoulders, set your nerves. “Just looking out for my friends.”

It’s a lie. You know it, Ghost most likely does, too, and you can only hope that everyone else is ignorant to that small fact.

Subconsciously, you find your attention drifting to Gaz once more.

He hasn’t spoken, you realise, not since Alex had said that. When he catches you watching his profile, lit by the lamp, the candles – he meets your eyes. Not for longer than a second, or half of one, you’re sure, but it hits you like a bullet. When he instantly looks away, you can’t help the sudden anger that stokes the flames in your stomach.

It’s not as if you were openly flirting with either Alex or Farah, and even then, who was he to be mad? You’d been together once, for God’s sake – not for a single moment since. Long days of work and stress and training made the comfort of his bed simply that.

And even then, even then, you were in no way official. Not in any semblance of the word, not with the stakes of the mission at hand, the risk that came with such relationships.

His response gives you half a mind to play up your past on purpose. You won’t, but the urge is definitely there.

It’s not silent, thank god. Alex, Price and Farah have continued a previous conversation, Ghost is silent and brooding, and…

“Didnae pick ye as promiscuous,” Soap states, fiercely meeting your eyes with a swirling of emotions visible within his own. He says the words like they’re poison on his tongue, and, fuck, you’re close to breaking point.

Your responding smile is nothing short of mocking. “Calling me a slut is less wordy, don’t you think?”

“Dinnae put words into my bloody mouth,” Soap seethes, leaning in further to your space, the scent of his cologne invading your senses. You hate how confused it all makes you feel, how unsure of your emotions and goddamn attachments.

“Oh, sorry, does the big bad military man want to tell me what such a big word means? If I don’t have the mental capacity to choose how I have sex, I surely can’t understand your wide vocabulary, can I?” You hiss, bending your neck slightly and not backing away from his posturing for even a moment.

“Soap, stop threatening her,” Price barks, and you distantly remember the people around you, the setting, the image the two of you must make.

You remember, and you can’t seem to find a single fuck to give.

“I can fight my own damn battles!” You yell, not sending a single glance Price’s way – eyes completely remaining on darkened blue instead.

“And that’s why ye still got bloody feckin’ bandages, damn bruises –”

“Do not go there with me right now, Johnny, or I swear to fucking god.”

Both of your chests heave, and you’ve forgotten what even sparked this sudden argument, this spiteful back and forth. You haven’t a clue in this moment, and you relish in it.

“She’s a better damn fighter than the lot of you,” Alex interrupts, “Injuries don’t mean shit, ‘specially not when you don’t know what the fuck she’s gone through.”

Soap directs his ire toward the man at your side, voice thick with anger and his accent when he counters, “And ye know ‘er so much better, jus’ cause ye got in ‘er pants? Aye?”

“Because he isn’t acting like a goddamn meathead!” You find yourself fisting your hand into his shirt, pulling him closer to you, faces inches apart.

“‘Nd kissin’ ‘n tellin’ is fine ‘nd dandy,” Soap laughs, without a hint of humour, “Thought ye had standards.”

A lot of things happen in the preceding moment.

You’d like to say you can’t be blamed for any of the actions that occur, but you also know that accountability is a virtue. And you mean to uphold it.

It goes something like this.

The fist that had been wrapped in his shirt pulls back, and instead, collides with his jaw. 

Arms wrap around your chest, caging your arms to your side. Arms, too, wrap around Soap, pulling him away from you. You’re both yelling obscenities, none of which you can name, and you both fight against your restraints. 

You don’t need to have a full frame of mind to know that it’s Alex and Price holding you back, and through the haze of it all, you’re sure it’s Ghost and Farah keeping Soap away.

“Calm the hell down!” Price commands, voice a beam of light in a storm. It brings you back to yourself, but not enough to stem the bleeding of your anger, just enough for you to recognise it.

“Bloody idiot, Johnny, get it together!” Ghost is saying to Soap, standing in front of him and shaking his shoulders as Farah’s arms remain wrapped around his torso, keeping his fists below his waist.

Gaz is nowhere to be seen.

“Don’t fucking speak to be, Johnny, I don’t want to see your face,” you shout, eyes glassy, before you finally ease into Price and Alex’s grips, their own going lax. You shoulder off their arms, before without a word, storming down the corridor.

Your name’s called out after you, ‘Sweetheart’, ‘Moonflower’ – none of it matters. Not past the roaring in your ears, the spite burning in your veins. The pent up energy of an unfinished fight.

Shoving open the door to your – Gaz’s – room, you startle when you see the man himself, standing in the middle of the room, shirt in hand. The only light comes from the window, the full moon high in the sky more than enough light to serve as a lamp. His sweats hang loose on his hips, his muscles bulging but still lithe, more like a gymnast’s build than a wrestler’s.

He’s never looked better.

Whether that’s the adrenaline speaking, or the anger, you don’t know. Don’t care. Not past the need to have his mouth against your own.

It takes all of two seconds before the door slams shut behind you, and you’re shoving Gaz onto the bed, his own groan answer enough. His brown eyes glisten with the moonlight, and his throat dips when he swallows, focus trained on where you tug off that damn leather jacket. your shirt following.

“I don’t want to hear a word from you,” you demand, “Unless it’s yes, no, or please.”

He nods, shaky, voice breaking when he responds, “Yes.”

Kicking off your pants, leaving you standing in only your panties and bra, you move to straddle him. He dutifully remains laid onto the bed, chest heaving in harsh sweeps, mouth slightly open in a mixture of shock and lust.

“Where do you get off,” you breathe, voice heavy with threat as you drag your pointer finger along the length of his throat, before following the line of his collarbone, “Being all moody about who I’ve fucked? What gives you the right?”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, the weakest he’s ever sounded, “Not – I’m not mad, I just. I want you.”

Your hand finds his neck, forming a light grip around it. You haven’t applied any pressure, but his breath hitches at the weight of it, the promise. 

“That sounded like more than one syllable,” you frown, mockingly patronising. You squeeze his neck, not anywhere hard enough to choke, but enough to have him squeezing his eyes shut. “We can talk later.”

He nods, harsh, quick jerks of his head, and the slightly unhinged smile returns to your face.

You hadn’t gotten the fight you’d yearned for, not with Soap, but this is a good enough replacement for that need.

Dragging your hand down his bare chest, you pause when you see scars. Not healed like those from battle, and ones you recognise. Before you can process what it means, Gaz lets out a sharp gasp, and when you look to him, his eyes are wide and.

And scared.

“No, hey, you can speak,” you ramble, and you can feel the flame of rage dim to sparking charcoal. It should be scary, how quickly you find yourself worried for the man, but it’s not. “It’s okay.”

“I should’ve told you,” he immediately breathes, squeezing his eyes shut once more. His head falls back to the bed once more. “I’m.”

He swallows, and you find your hand gravitating to his throat once more – this time, in a soft, soothing caress.

“I’m trans,” he finishes, saying it like one would whisper a secret in a confessional. Your heart stutters in your chest, and it aches, the idea that he’s had lovers who’ve made him feel so awful about his identity.

Your hand moves from his neck to his cheek, thumb brushing underneath his eyes, and they finally flutter open once more.

They soften when they see your smile.

“Thank you for telling me,” you say, voice low and cautious. “If you wanna stop, it’s fine, but,” you shrug, “You’re hot. I still wanna fuck. You might have to show me what feels best, but that’s kinda hot, too.”

“You’re okay with it?” His voice is fragile, shaky, and fuck he’s pretty.

“I’m okay with it,” you echo, sentiment genuine and kind. “Tell me what you want, Kyle.”

His arms remain laid out on the bed at either side of him, his skin still heated with want and need and wanton lust. His voice strengthens when he answers.

“I want you to use me – take it out on me,” he says. “Please.”

And who are you to deny such a request?

author's note. i was veryveryvery close to orphaning or marking as complete. i'm not really in or interested in the COD fandom at all anymore, but, i realised that i also want to see where this story goes? excluding the characters, the actual story and world i've created for sweetheart has me wanting to see it to its end.

that, along with the fans. you guys and your genuine interest and comments have made this project worth it. i can't express enough how much you all mean to me, especially those that comment on every chapter and have been there every step of the way. thank you, thank you, thank you.

i can't promise as efficient and regular updates, but i CAN promise that i plan to finish this story in its entirety.

thank you to those who have stuck around, and thank you for those that continue to do so. you mean the world to me, and the very writing of this fic is owed to you.

(also, if anyone has any feedback on my trans rep and dealing with a trans character, PLEASE lmk. i am in no way perfect, and if i've made a mistake, please tell me so i can fix it and grow as a writer!)

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re @lalashhyl @someonepleasedateme @letmeapologise @uhhellnogetoffpleasenowty @inarabee @simp-sentral @littlecellist @clear-your-mind-and-dream @browtfyoudoing @oreo-cream @fanngirl19 @infpt-zylith @marispunk @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @xvintageghostx @thigh-o-saur @thriving-n-jiving @callsign-pyro @mmmangel @aisawa-reo @just-pure-trash @silly-norman @annoyingstrawberryballoon @chop-zulyzulyyy

[babydollmarauders]

CLUMSY — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: quinn and luke realize how clumsy y/n is after noticing how often jack unconsciously keeps her from harm

notes: y/n is written sensitive and clumsy! also, i wrote this on saturday to have something to post this week while i’m unable to write <3

i’ve met my boyfriends family on numerous occasions since we started dating in october. mostly through quick trips such as Quinn coming into town for a game against the Devils and whatnot, but this is my first time spending an elongated amount of time with them and i have this irrational fear that they’ll dislike me.

Jack has assured me multiple times since we’ve arrived at the lake house for the summer that i have no reason to worry, but it’s been four days and i still feel like they’re forming their opinions on me. so, i’ve taken it upon myself to do whatever i can in order to get them to like me; including my current task of baking cookies.

“you know they already love you, right?” Jack asks, standing at the counter beside me, observing as i mix the dry ingredients into a bowl. “you don’t need to bake them cookies.”

“are you saying you don’t want my sea salt chocolate chip cookies?” i keep focused on the task at hand, my sight never leaving the measuring cup as i scoop the flour into the bowl.

“now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” a hearty chuckle escapes his lips as he maneuvers himself behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist as he clings himself to me, his cheek resting pressed against my shoulder blade. “i definitely want your cookies. i’m just saying that my brothers don’t need them.”

i giggle as his fingers tickle at the bits of my sides where my shirt has risen, arching my back to try and escape his hands. Jack groans as i break free from his grip, but i assume it’s mostly due to his brothers entering the kitchen.

“ooh, what are you making?” Luke wonders, coming to a stop on the opposite side of the counter.

“cookies!” i grin, finally looking up as i finish the dry ingredients.

“yum.” Quinn chimes in, sidling into the spot beside Luke. he peers into the bowl and his brows furrow slightly. “y/n, that’s just powder?”

i bark out a laugh at the clueless boy.

“Quinny, you have to mix the dry ingredients first. then the wet ingredients such as eggs, butter and vanilla. and then you mix them both together to form the dough.” i explain. i scan the countertop, making sure i have each item needed for the next step. “i need another bowl.”

i bend down, opening the lower cupboard and reaching for the metal mixing bowl inside.

“Trevor texted me this morning.” i hear Jack inform the boys.

“yeah? when’s he coming up?” Quinn asks.

“in two weeks. but Alex is getting here tomorrow.” Jack says. i shut the cupboard door, stretching my legs to rise back up from my position. my head bumps Jack’s hand, wrapped around the lip of the counter above where i was bent.

my left hand rubs the top of the back of my head super quick as i set the mixing bowl on the counter. i glance back up as Luke and Quinn share an amused look and my face scrunches in confusion.

what did i miss?

**

Jack’s left arm rests on my shoulders, my face half buried into his chest as he scrolls on his phone. Quinn and Luke sit in armchairs on opposite sides of the couch as Alex sits on the opposite side of Jack. a movie plays on the tv, but i’m momentarily distracted by Ellen walking past the back of the couch, calling out a goodnight.

“goodnight El!” i call back as she makes her way to the stairs, the boys all muttering their own goodnight’s.

“brunch tomorrow, while the boys golf?” she asks, confirming our plans. i nod and she grins, blowing a kiss towards the group of us as she finally walks up the stairs.

“you guys are going to brunch tomorrow? without us?!” Luke asks, his hand coming up to his chest in mock offense.

“you guys are going golfing tomorrow, without us! it’s only fair.” i laugh and Alex chuckles.

“y/n/n, you don’t even like golf. you said it’s boring and called it ‘watered down hockey’.” Alex points out as i burrow back into Jack’s side.

“shh, i’m watching the movie.” i shush him, making the boys laugh. Jack turns back to his phone and i watch through one peeked open eye as he double taps on his teammate’s most recent instagram post before typing out some nonsense comment that i’ll never understand.

pulling back, i lock my eyes on the remote on the coffee table. sliding forward some, i lean, stretching my fingertips out to try and grab it. finally getting ahold of it, i go to lean back, wobbling forward and accepting my fate. i brace myself to fall before feeling a hand grab onto the back of my shirt. yanking me back, Jack pulls me back into his side, his eyes still glued to his phone. i heave out a small relieved sigh as i press a kiss to his chest before turning the volume up on the tv.

i glance around the living room to the other boys, gauging how interested they are in the movie, but Luke and Quinn are exchanging a look. Luke biting back a smile as Quinn smirks.

what did i miss this time?

**

with the boys friends all finally arriving, the lake house has become much too crowded to hang out inside. so instead we’re all outside, gathered around a fire that was once blazing but now dwindling. my boyfriend jokes around with Cole and Trevor, Luke speaking with his University of Michigan teammates, Ethan and Dylan, and lastly Quinn sits sipping a beer as he chats with Alex and the Tkachuk’s.

making myself scarce in order to not cling to my boyfriends side as he tries to enjoy himself, i text with my own friends from back in New Jersey as i balance on the edge of the brick fire pit, circling it as i type.

“be careful, babe.” Jack warns me, and i grin and throw him a thumbs up. he barely gives me a second glance before Trevor takes up his attention, reciting a story of something that happened to he and his friend Jamie back in California.

i continue pacing around on the elevated bricks, typing a long winded message to Leah, explaining why she shouldn’t call her ex. as i pass by my boyfriend once more, i’m not paying as close attention as i probably should be, my foot getting a little too close to the inner edge as i start to slip.

a hand grips my elbow, pulling me back to a standing position before i can fall into the fire and i look over to see Jack, his attention still on Trevor and his hand wrapped around my arm as he nods his head at his friend while he continues ranting. i give a light pat to Jack’s shoulder to let him know i’m fine and he releases his grip.

slipping my phone into my pocket, i continue my journey around the fire pit again, this time with more of my focus going into keeping upright. passing Luke, i see him looking away from his friends, and i follow his line of sight to his brother, Quinn looking right back at him. both wear an entertained appearance and i look around to see if i can find what they’re smiling about but come up empty-handed.

why do i keep missing these things?

**

with today being one of the hottest days of the summer, we’re all crowded on the boat. most of the group lounges around conversing with one another, Luke currently taking his turn wakesurfing as music blares from Quinn’s bluetooth speaker.

i’m sat in Jack’s lap, rubbing my third layer of sunscreen on my legs and the tops of my feet.

“babe, i think you’ve got enough.” Jack laughs, his hands grip my waist to keep me from falling as i’m leaned forward.

“i just wanna make sure. the UV index is super high today and you know how easily i burn.” i tell him, sitting back upright as i flip the cap of the sunscreen closed once more.

“i know, sugar. but we’ve only been out here for two hours and that’s your third time applying it. i think you’re okay for a while.” he takes the lotion from my hands, handing the bottle over to Cole. “put that in the bag next to you, eh?”

Cole nods, placing the sunscreen into the waterproof zip up bag i brought on the boat.

“y/n/n! c’mere!” Luke shouts, making me untangle myself from Jack. i rise to my feet, shuffling over to the back of the boat and leaning over to get closer in order to hear him better.

“you gonna let her get that close to the edge, Rowdy?” Quinn questions, making the boys laugh.

“what?” Jack asks. “what do you mean?”

“she’s a bit clumsy, is she not? we’ve noticed you all summer, keeping her from hurting herself.” Quinn replies through chuckles. even Alex, who drives the boat barks out a laugh.

“wait, when did i do that?” Jack wonders.

“all the time! you weren’t even paying attention when you did it!” Luke shouts and i stick my tongue out at him before turning to observe the boys.

“there was the first time Luke and i noticed it, when you wrapped your hand over the counter to make sure she didn’t hit her head. and you were right to do so because she bumped it right on your hand.” Quinn explains.

“or when she was reaching off the couch to grab the remote and you caught her by her shirt to keep her from falling. and you didn’t even look up from your phone as you did it!” Luke says as he climbs back on the boat.

“or how about when she was balancing on the fire pit and you caught her by the arm to keep her from falling straight into the fire. while you kept all your attention on Trevor. didn’t even look, you just reached a hand out and grabbed her.” Quinn provides another example. “i can go on.”

“i didn’t even realize i was doing all that.” Jack shrugs, glancing towards me. “i guess it’s just unconscious reaction. i’ve gotten used to it by now.”

“i’m not clumsy.” i pout, crossing my arms over my chest.

“it’s okay, it’s not necessarily a bad thing!” Trevor attempts to comfort me. i give him a side-eye, making my way over to Jack. but before i can sit in his lap, i slip. Jack’s arms wrap around my waist to keep me from dropping to the floor, pulling me down onto his thighs instead.

“you are pretty clumsy, babe.” one of Jack’s arms stays planted across my waist, holding me to him as his index finger pushes my chin up so i’m looking up at him. “but, it’s adorable.”

i bury my face in his chest out of embarrassment. i didn’t think i was clumsy. i mean, i know i’ve always been a bit accident prone; broken glasses, falling a bit more than my friends. but i didn’t think i was clumsy.

“it’s nothing to be ashamed of, y/n.” Quinn tells me. Jack’s hand trails up and down my back as he whispers reassurances in my ear.

“yeah, we didn’t mean to embarrass you or anything.” Luke pipes up once more, his voice seeping with regret.

“that’s why you kept looking at each other all the time.” my words are muffled by Jack’s chest, but by the way that Jack coos as he places a kiss on the top of my head, i know they heard them. “you were laughing at me.”

“we weren’t. i swear we weren’t.” Quinn’s voice is closer now, and i feel another hand touch my back. “we were laughing with you. we just thought it was funny that Jack didn’t even notice when he was doing it.”

“honest?” i question.

“honest. i promise.” my head rises at Luke’s voice, closer now as well. his hand comes up to rest on my knee and i look over to see him squatted down beside Jack and i, Quinn sitting next to us.

“i didn’t realize i was clumsy.” i confess. “i just thought it was normal.”

“i gotta say, you’re definitely the first girlfriend i’ve ever had to pull away from falling into an actual fire.” Jack chuckles, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “but i wouldn’t want you any other way.”

“really?”

“really. i love you. clumsiness and all.” he tells me. his grip gets tighter around me and i crane my neck to crash my lips into his.

“ugh, gross!” Trevor exclaims. Jack pulls back, leaning his forehead against mine.

“shut up, Z.” he grins, pulling me into one more kiss. “now, you ready to learn how to wakesurf?”

“yeah, no. even before i knew i was considered clumsy, i knew i wasn’t going out there. i’ll fall straight on my face, Jacky. i mean seriously, i’m a clutz!”

[reidsdaisies]

hihihi !! i saw that you wanted requests and i will happily oblige 😭 i was wondering if you could do a like grumpy spencer reid x sunshine/bombshell reader !! i love the whole opposites attract trope. maybe its where like hes having a bad day and just kinda wants to go home but reader turns that frown upside down and flirts w him n stuff !!

𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲

༉‧´ˎ˗ pairing; grumpy!spencer reid x sunshine/bombshell!reader

༉‧´ˎ˗ warnings; maeve doesn’t exist bc this is like right around the beginning of season 8 I’d say, slightly handsy reader ig?, use of pet names ‘baby’, ‘sweetie’, ‘hon’, mention of the one ‘sugar’, also I don’t think spencer would growl but i thought it was kinda funny and random. also he’d probably not not want to do a guest lecture but just imagine he’d had a rough week or something and that’s why he’s reluctant to go.

༉‧´ˎ˗ wc; 0.6k

༉‧´ˎ˗ a/n; i also love opposites attract but im not the best at writing it, so this one is like subtle ig and so reader is more of a flirt than a bombshell. but if you or anyone else has a diff request for bombshell!reader pleasepleaseplease send it in bc I’d love to try again and make her an actual bombshell lolz

cm masterlist ; main masterlist ; request guidelines ; inbox

The day was already off to a bad start. You could tell from Spencer’s body language and whole demeanor that he just wasn’t having it.

Today, Spencer is supposed to be giving a guest lecture to Alex Blake’s class. So, here you stand outside the classroom, 10 minutes before he’s supposed to go in and prepare, pulling at his arm uselessly.

He’s planted himself to a bench in the empty hallway, head in his hands, hiding his face from you.

“C’mon, Spence, it’s just 30 minutes, a 1 and done thing.” You squat down in front of him at eye level, though it’s slightly uncomfortable even in your most casual heels. You’re currently trying to convince him that it really isn’t that bad, and that he’ll feel more relaxed once he’s gotten into the flow of things.

“It’s not like you’ve never done this before,” sighing, you give up trying to make him look at you and instead sit down besides him, your hand reaching over to rest on his left shoulder. “Didn’t you do something similar with Rossi a couple years ago? And you’re good friends with Blake, so this should be a piece of cake.”

“You say that, but you’ve never even had to think about doing something like this. It’s nerve wracking.” He mumbles into his hands, shaking his head.

When he finally pulls his head away, he’s pouting, giving you an annoyed stare. He shrugs your hand off him, hunching in on himself.

“Sweetie,” you start, taking a deep breath and choosing your next words, “remember the first time this happened? One second you were all frustrated— I mean like at one point I think you even growled at me— then the next you were fine. What did the trick that time?”

He scoffs at the mention of him growling, but he does stop to think about it. You can see him mentally searching for that last time, replaying the events of that afternoon.

He licks his lips in contemplation, opening his mouth before closing it. Taking another glance in your direction, he gives you a quick once over. “I-.. well, you..? I guess.”

“Well, what did I do, hon?”

“Uhm, I don’t know..” Of course you already know he remembers, there’s very few, if any, things he doesn’t, he’s just having a hard time saying it outright.

“C’mon baby, I know you know.”

Even after multiple months of dating you, he’s still getting used to all the nicknames you call him. You’ve called him things such as ‘baby’, and ‘sugar’, more times than you’ve called him by his actual name. He knows this for a fact. He counted.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he glances down with a soft smile on his face. “Stuff like that, like calling me ‘baby’ and whatnot. Flirting with me.”

“Aw, look at you smiling,” you tease, gently prodding his shoulder, “I knew deep down, as much as you try to deny, you actually enjoy my flirtatiousness.”

“Hush,” he rolls his eyes playfully, looking up at the ceiling.

“Well then, ‘baby’, what’s it gonna take this time, hm? Maybe a bit more of my flirtatious charm could ease those nerves.”

You wink at him jokingly, eliciting a chuckle from the man beside you.

After a few seconds, you push him to stand, about ready to shove him towards the door as well. “But in all seriousness, you better get your ass in there or I will tell Blake and all your other colleagues about the growling.”

[ebodebo]

summary: alex is your friends-with-benefits, and it’s your cousin's wedding, and you need a date.. (this whole plot was made just so he could eat box)

pairing: alex keller x f!reader

a/n: alex keller is a certified munch and i stand by that. also this wasn’t even supposed to be a whole fleshed out fic, just a little thought buttttt unfortunately i can’t summarize… also the jason todd fic is coming but it is also unfortunate that i’m lazy:) IT WILL COME THOUGH (also i am trying to get through my asks so don’t worry bbs IM GETTING TO WORK) enjoy alex being nasty;) ALSO NEED MORE ALEX APPRECIATION HE'S SO HOT

word count: 2.7k+

wanna be on my taglist ? fill out this form !

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Backyard Barbecue

"Please.." You beg Alex as you sit up in his bed, naked, with his fluffy comforter covering you. He sits on the edge, carefully putting his boot on, with his abdomen bare.

"You know I wouldn't ask you if I wasn't  desperate." You enunciate the last word. He turns to face you. "Desperate. Huh?" He raises a brow and turns back down to lace up his boot.

"Yes." You sigh. "My cousin is younger than me, and she's already getting married." You bring your knees up, so you can rest your head on them. "My aunts are always nagging me about when I'm gonna finally get a boyfriend." You huff out.

"Look, I feel for you—I really do—but they're going to know I'm not your boyfriend," he said, bending up and turning towards you.

"Don't make that face at me." He says, noticing your big puppy-dog eyes and deep frown. "What face?" You murmur, obviously lying.

"You know the face." He leans down to pick up a white shirt and slips it on. You silently curse and crawl your way across the bed to him with the whole comforter wrapped around you.

You rest your chin on his shoulder. "Please.." You purr as you press a kiss to his clothed shoulder.

"Uh-uh." He tuts. "What?" You question as you kiss your way up his neck and gently nibble at his ear. "I'm not-fuck-I'm not falling for that." He protests but makes no real effort to move away.

"Please.." You say again, this time whispering it directly in his ear. He could feel your hot breath, full of need. "Go with me." You leaned more on him, slowly dropping the blanket encasing your naked body so he could feel your nipples graze his shoulder as you leaned to look him in the eye.

He turned to look down at you, now at his eye level. "I'll make it worth your while." You grin, threading your fingers through his hair, gently tugging on the roots.

"Are you trying to barter sex?" He groaned out, a smirk playing on his lips. "Maybe." You play with the hem of the joggers he had on, slipping a finger beneath the waistband.

"God, you're gonna be the death of me." He huffed, roughly gripping your waist and pulling you onto him so you were straddling his lap. You could feel the fabric from his shirt rub against your bare nipples and the fabric from his joggers rub against your cunt.

He gripped you tighter, dragging his hand from your waist to grip your ass. "Uh-uh." You say, gripping his hand on your ass and moving it away. "You don't get to touch if you don't go." You use your hand to tug at his hair again.

"Fuck, fine." He gritts, bringing both hands to grip your ass. 

"Yay! Thank you." You exclaim, sliding off of him.

"Seriously." He huffs as you wonder to pick up your dress and bra off the floor, as you laugh at him. He doesn't stay sour for long as he notices the way your bare ass swings as you pick up your clothes.

"Jesus Christ, sweetheart." He leans forward, elbows on his knees. You pop back up and look at him. "Bad boy." You laugh out. "Quit looking at my ass, and get yours dressed."

"Why?" He sighed as he laid back on the bed. "Because we have to leave in thirty minutes." You casually said as you slipped your dress back on.

"It's today?" He twisted his head to face you, his voice carrying a lethal tone. "Surprise. Get dressed." You harp as you swipe some lipstick over your swollen lips. "God damn it." He grumbled as he begrudgingly got off the bed to head into the bathroom.

❀・。.。* ❀ *。.。·* ❀ *·。.。* ❀ *·。.。* ❀ *。.

The ride to your cousins felt exhausting and long because Alex kept whining the whole time. Though, you didn't take his complaints too seriously because his hand rested on your thigh the entire drive.

You looked out the window to see the white, bricked, picked-fenced house—the house you had spent so many summers at. 

"We're here!" You chimed as you scooted closer to him to pull up the neck of the tie he pulled down as soon as you put it on him. 

"Was the tie really necessary?" He tilted his head, raising his hand to push a strand of hair away from your face. "I want you to make a good first impression." You gently pat him on the chest. 

"Let's go." You beamed.

You both made your way to the front door, which swung open without you even knocking on it.

"You made it!" Your cousin chimed, bringing you in for a tight hug. She made quick notice of the hunk of a man behind you. "You must be the boyfriend?" She asked, shamelessly looking him up and down.

"Yes, ma'am." He politely said, sticking his hand out.

"Oh, please. We're family!" She quickly brought him in for a hug, and he gave you a "help save me look" and you let out a quiet laugh. She let go. "Well, come on in! Your dad's inside." She stepped aside so you could both come in, but she gently grabbed your wrist and gave you a wink and a thumbs up.

"Nice catch." She whispered, referring to Alex. You let out a little laugh, covering your mouth. She led you both to the kitchen, where the rest of your family was. Alex noticed a familiar man leaning against the counter. He made his way over to him.

"Keller, what the hell are you doing here?" Captain Price questioned as he took a sip of his whiskey.

"I could ask you the same, Captain." He laughed out.

"Well, I'm-" Price begins.

"Dad!" You chimed, making your way over to Price and hugging him tightly. Alex's eyes widened. "Wha- Dad?" You pull away and tug on Alex's arm, so you're side-by-side. "Dad, this is my boyfriend, Alex." You beam as you thread your fingers through his.

"Boyfriend?" Price questions as his eyes dart to Alex's.

"Maybe boyfriend is a... strong word," Alex says, nervously scratching the back of his neck. "We've been dating for five months." You inform your dad, smiling.

"Is that right?" Price's eyes are still on Alex as he slowly sips his drink.

"Yes," you say as you turn to see your cousin struggling to bring in some fruit trays through the front door. "Sorry, let me go help her. Stay here." You say to Alex. His eyes widen, and he tries to grip your hand, but you are already off to the door.

"Keller." Price starts, as Alex turns back towards him. "What the hell are you doing with my daughter?" He gently places his whiskey glass down.

"Look, I didn't even know you had a daughter. You think I would have started dating her if I knew she was yours?" He counters. 

"I would hope not." Price cooly says as he crosses his arms. He notices Alex's pleading expression and decides to cut a little slack—just a little, though.

"Look, I know you're a good guy, and hell, she looks smitten. But that's my baby." Price gestures to her over by the door.

He continues. "If you do anything to hurt her, Keller, I'll-" 

"You'll kill me?" Alex interrupts, causing Price to let out a low chuckle.

"Christ, no. She would never speak to me again." Price leans a little closer to Alex. "But, I do know some guys who would if I asked." He's quick to step away from Alex and chuckle as he sees you approaching. He gives Alex a nod, and he puts on a fake laugh.

"Sounds like you two are getting along." You smile, grabbing Alex's hand. "We're going to go grab some food. You want anything, dad?"

"No, no. Your aunt already made me eat three plates." He pats his bloated stomach. You let out a laugh and drag Alex outside the back door to the burger station.

You assemble your burgers, carefully adding an array of veggies and a slice of cheese. As he puts ketchup on his bun, you turn towards him.

"Are you having fun?" You question shyly. 

"Why're you actin' all shy, sweetheart?"

"Well, you know." He raises a brow. "Because we aren't really da—" You are interrupted by a hand gently moving you aside. "Excuse me," the voice says. "Oh, sorry—Jack!" You smile, raising your arms to bring him in for a hug.

"I was wondering how long it would take ya," Jack said, encasing your body in a hug. It felt strange seeing him after all these years. You never dated, but your parents always joked that you two would get married.

You pulled away and looked at Alex, whose eyes were narrowed and his body visibly stiff. "This is my boyfriend, Alex." You grabbed his hand.

"Boyfriend?" Jack questioned, his eyes drifting to where your hands were connected. 

"That's right. Boyfriend." Alex confirmed, enunciating the last word.

You looked at him and made a confused expression but turned back to Jack. "So, are you having a good time?" You took Alex's cup of iced tea in his hand and sipped some. 

"I'm... ya." Jack's gaze slowly fell to the dip in between your breasts. 

"Eyes up," Alex commands, bringing his hand to rest on the small of your back. Jack immediately raises his eyes to meet Alex's as his face reddens at getting caught. "Sorry. I should. I... okay." Jack steps away from both of you, forgetting his plate with his burger on it on the table.

You turn to Alex with your hands on your hips. "What was that?" You question. "I don't know. Maybe he was busy?" He picks up his burger and takes a bite, playing dumb.

"You know that's not what I'm talking about, Keller." You continue. "I'm talking about you getting all jealous." He swallows. "Me? Jealous? When?" Widening his mouth at the accusation. 

"You so were. Oh my God!" You say, lightly hitting his bicep.

"I wasn't jealous. He was being weird." He explains. 

He pauses for a moment, trying to ease out his next words. "Have you two had sex?"

"What?" You laugh out. "No, Alex, we have not had sex." You grab a napkin off the table. "But, we've... done other stuff."

"Other stuff?" He shifts on his feet. "What other stuff?"

"Like you know.." You trail off.

"No, I don't know." He tilts his head, feeling his body tighten. "Go on." He pushes.

"I can't believe you're making me say it." You look down at the ground briefly. "Fine. Like oral or whatever," You continue before he can speak. "Well, he didn't like going down on me. It was mostly me going down on him."

"You're fucking serious?" He put his burger down on his plate. You nodded, taking another sip of his tea.

"I'm glad you like to though." You smile, drinking more tea. You tilt your head a little, a puzzled expression taking over your face. "You like to, right?"

He laughs. "You don't think I like to?"

"I don't know.." You tug on your bottom lip with your teeth.

He takes another bite of the burger, scanning your needy face and puffy lip tucked between your teeth.

"Where's the bathroom?" He roughly asks after swallowing. You weren't picking up what he was putting down. "It's... ah... to the right of the front door, then your turn to the left."

"Care to help me?" He asks, setting his burger down. He then grabs his tea from your hand and sets it next to his plate.

"Oh.. sure." You smile as you grab his hand and direct him inside.

It was nice everyone had moved outside, so now you and Alex didn't have to worry about anyone hearing you two.

You stepped into the bathroom first, and Alex followed suit, locking the door as soon as he stepped in. He was quick to connect his lips to yours. His hand wandered down your body, stopping just above your ass.

You begin to sink to your knees, but Alex quickly pulls you up and places you on the edge of the sink.

"You don't want me to?" You skeptically question, shifting on the cool porcelain of the sink.

"I only want to taste you." He sinks to his knees and pools up the fabric of your dress so it's gathered around your waist. You eye him and bring your hand to thread through his light hair. 

He places hot, open kisses on your lower thigh, slightly nipping at your skin, causing you to squirm. He continued moving up your thigh, painfully slow. You could feel his facial hair graze you, sending goosebumps across your skin.

"Can you.. can you just.." You threw your head back as he made contact with your upper thigh, grazing your cunt. 

"What was that?" He said, a smirk playing on his lip.

"Can you just.." You tried to gently scoot his head closer to where you ached.

"Talk to me. What do you need?" He gruffly said against your thigh.

"Fuck. I need your tongue." He let out a rough laugh that vibrated throughout your entire body. He leaned in closer and licked a small strip across the outside of your dripping cunt.

"Fuck." You moaned, tightening your grip on his hair.

His tongue was firm but not too firm. It felt just right against you. You craved more. No, you needed more. It was almost as if he read your mind because he slipped his tongue in you so it was grazing your clit.

You buck against his face at the contact. "I swear you're a mind-reader." 

"I know what you like." He gently licks your clit, making you cry out in pleasure.

"We gotta' be a little quiet, baby. You know I like to hear you, but I don't think your family would." He gruffed as he took your clit between in lips and sucked it slowly.

"Alex." You moaned out, leaning your head against the bathroom mirror. 

"Feel good?" He murmured against you as he licked your clit.

You quickly nodded.

"What was that?" He paused his actions, awaiting a response.

"Yes. So good." You whine out, trying to move him back.

"Good." He dipped his head back down and lightly licked your clit, then dragged his tongue along your inner lips, earning sweet moans from you. He moved back to your clit and drew soft circles on it. Once your legs began to shake, he knew you were close.

"I'm so-" You began, voice gravely.

"I know." He finished as he started to increase his pace. He kept it consistent as your moans became more frequent and your body pulsed.

He reached his arm up to gently caress your inner thigh, squeezing and kneading the fat of it, just how you like him to. You felt your stomach tighten, and the pleasure clouding your mind as your arousal covered his tongue.

He hadn't stopped his pace until he knew you were down from your high, standing up and letting you lean on him. 

You pulled back a little to look up at him. "I know you didn't want to come to this. But I'm really glad you did." You smile, gripping his arm.

"You're just saying that because I gave you an orgasm." He laughs, gently rubbing your cheek with his hand.

"No. I'm serious." You laugh. "I know you don't want to label this, but-"

"I want you to be my girlfriend." He says, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"Really?" Your eyes widened in surprise. "What changed?"

"Just came to my senses." He confessed. "And the thought of you with any other guy doesn't make me so happy." He smiled.

You smile back at him before your eyes widen again. "You'll have to meet my uncles. Don't worry, they're great." You say as you grip his shoulder to slip off the sink. 

"They work with my dad." You confirm as he fixes your dress.

"Oh, maybe I know them. What are their names?" He casually questions. 

"Simon, Johnny, and Kyle." Your eyes beam. "They're the best!"

"I'm so fucked." He sighs. 

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

taglist: @artemis-b-writes @yuenity @sceletaflores @starsofang

[ninzied]

and patience, and pining

in which alex is determined to flirt so hard that henry can no longer resist him. a modern au. based on the prompt: surprise kiss/impulsive kiss. ~1.8k.

Between the two of them, Alex has always thought he’d be the one to cave first.

They’ve both arrived at the same time. Henry looks stupid-good in his well-fitted tuxedo. His hair is just over-styled enough that Alex wants to mess it up, and badly.

How one man can be so like this is frankly upsetting. No, scratch that; it’s illegal, is what it is. Criminal law is not Alex’s domain, but he’s pretty sure being this tempting in public is a certifiable offense.

“Alex,” says Henry, and he blinks, at least some sense returning to him.

“Right,” he says. “Shall we?”

Henry gives him a look like he’d rather be anywhere else on the planet, which, the reception is not even open bar, so Alex can’t say he disagrees.

“After you, Your Majesty,” he says, stepping from the door with a flourish, then, “I saw that.”

“Saw what?” asks Henry, already shouldering past him with his chin turned up.

“If I had a dollar for every time you rolled your eyes at me—”

“Good taste still can’t be bought, Alex.”

“That’s ironic,” Alex shoots back, smiling and nodding at one of the guests as they enter. “Considering my tie is way better than yours.”

Henry lifts his hand at another in greeting, and even his wave looks fucking majestic, the asshole. “I trust you’ll be at least somewhat behaved this evening?”

“You sure that’s what you want, sweetheart?”

Henry’s expression turns very dour, and Alex wonders, not for the first time, why that particular look on him makes Alex so crazy. The more severe Henry gets, the wilder Alex’s impulse to kiss him, and the urge to just give in.

Alex licks his lips.

Henry takes a cautionary step back. “Let’s do try to make it through the rest of the night without much carnage, yes?”

“I don’t know,” Alex muses. “When you threaten me with a good time like that…”

Henry mutters something under his breath and Alex can’t help but grin. Maybe the night holds some promise after all.

.

He decides he’s going to have to walk that back after a while.

The music is decent, and he was wrong about the open bar, thank God, but he’s barely seen Henry since some crusty-looking Wall Street types whisked him and Pez away to talk business, and Alex is bored.

He wants to dance. He wants to dance—with Henry. And because that’s not going to happen, Alex wants to do the next best thing, which is to dance while Henry pretends not to watch, but he’s not even facing the dance floor right now so there would be no fucking point. He’ll have to think of something else. Hmmm.

Nora shimmies up to him then with two new flutes of champagne. Bless. “Still pining?” she asks.

Alex whips around to glare at her, wounded. “What? Nora, no,” he says. Is it that obvious? Fuck.

Nora shrugs. “You do the thing where you look him when you think he won’t notice. Both of you. You guys kind of have it down to a science.”

Alex brightens immediately. “You’ve seen him looking at me?”

Nora sips her champagne. “Right now, for example.”

Henry looks quickly away when Alex glances over, which is as good an invitation as any in his book. One of the suits is talking at Henry, who seems about as engaged as a teapot right now. Pez has dialed up the charisma, distracting them easily from Henry’s silence. But to Alex, Henry looks downright miserable in comparison.

Well, Alex is here to do something about that.

He plucks the second flute from Nora’s hand. “You’re the best. Gotta go.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t pining?”

“For that guy?” Alex gazes at Henry again, then says, quite honestly, “Always.”

.

It takes exactly two minutes for the Wall Street guys to politely excuse themselves. Alex watches them practically dissolve their way into the crowd, like a creepy bunch of Mr. Smiths from The Matrix, and he suppresses a shudder.

The look on Henry’s face is an appealing combination of annoyed and relieved. “Let me guess,” Alex deadpans, “you’re so grateful you could just kiss me right now.”

Henry’s expression turns distinctly disapproving as Pez chimes in, “Be patient and Hazza might even learn to admit it someday.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.” Alex grins sideways at Henry, who’s flushing the loveliest pink despite also frowning. “You’re welcome for rescuing you from the most tedious conversation known to man, by the way.”

“Actually, darling dearest,” Pez says lightly, “we were speaking with potential investors in the foundation.”

Oh. Shit. “Do you want me to charm them back over?” Alex wants to know, jerking a thumb in the direction they’d gone. “It is well within my power.”

“Not necessary.” Henry pulls a face. “I would’ve felt dirty about taking their money.”

“I would’ve felt wonderfully about it,” says Pez. “But now that you’ve freed up my dance card…” He cranes his neck around.

“Nora’s over there,” Alex says helpfully.

“Brilliant.” Pez’s eyes are the definition of sparkling. “Ah, and I see your sister’s about to join her. If you boys will excuse me—”

He helps himself to the rest of Alex’s champagne before sashaying off.

The two of them remain standing there a careful few feet apart, not looking at each other. Not that it matters; Alex is so hyperaware of him that he could reach over without even looking and take Henry’s hand if he wanted to. He won’t, but he wants to.

Knowing that he can is enough for now.

Henry looks askance at him after a moment. “You’re making this very hard, you know.”

Alex somehow manages not to smile at that. “Am I?”

Henry’s face screws up in faux concentration. “Let’s see. You’ve been a merciless flirt, even more so than usual. You wore the tie I bought you, which means you don’t hate it—”

“What? I love it,” interrupts Alex, just to be clear.

“—and you just drove off a very lucrative, albeit morally questionable, investment opportunity.” Henry’s also holding back a smile. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to not kiss you for that alone.”

“You still could,” Alex points out.

“And lose your silly bet?” Henry straightens, adjusting his cufflinks, and that might be the single hottest thing Alex has ever seen. “I think not. We both know you’ll be the first to give in.”

It’s true, Alex thinks; he’s pretty irresistible, but Henry is also far more controlled. Still, there’s a certain satisfaction in knowing that Alex gets to be the one who stretches him to his very limit. The level of restraint it takes Henry to resist him is a pretty big turn-on, if he’s being honest. Even when Henry wins, it will be no great loss on Alex’s part.

“Considering what’s at stake here,” Alex says lowly, leaning in just enough to catch the way Henry’s eyes darken, “I think I win either way.”

Henry does smile then, soft and warm and way too tempting not to kiss, though Alex perseveres. “I think we both do, darling.”

“That we can agree on,” says Alex. “So, do you want to…not…dance with me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

.

He slips up, once.

It’s in a goddamn photo booth of all things, and Alex would feel like such a cliché if he weren’t so busy feeling annoyed at the fact that he can’t hold Henry’s hand or kiss him in front of the camera. Instead, he lets Nora and June wedge in between them, grinning gamely when they take turns kissing Henry on the cheek.

At the literal last second before the flash is going off, Alex feels Henry take his hand from behind, lace their fingers ever so gently together, and squeeze.

In the photo that prints out, June and Nora are doubled over in laughter, eyes closed, unaware. Henry has his chin tipped up, his face doing some smoldery thing at the camera, and Alex is turned, simply gazing at him.

He takes it before anyone sees, tucking it safely into his wallet because bet or no bet, some things really are too sacred to share.

When he shows it to Henry later, Henry gets the same lovestruck look on his face as Alex does in the photo, and that’s all he needs.

.

It’s the cake that finally does it.

Pez, Nora and June are all crowded around the same piece, and it makes Alex sigh a little wistfully to think about how much better it would taste if he were sharing his with Henry.

He can’t help it. He peers at Henry’s own slice, squinting. “What flavor is that one?”

“Strawberry,” says Henry. There’s a crumb on his lip, and Alex doesn’t mean to fixate on it, but he’s now gone hours without kissing his boyfriend and he’s kind of mad about it even though it’s also kind of his fault. “Do you want a bite?”

Oh. Yeah, that’ll work. Alex can feel the others’ eyes on them as he leans closer, fully expecting that Henry will yield to his instincts and feed him a piece off his fork. It’s not a kiss, but it could definitely qualify as losing the bet. And then once Alex has won, he can not only kiss Henry as much as he likes, he gets to take Henry home with him and—well.

He frowns when Henry only holds the plate out. “Here, have some,” says Henry, gaze lifting to his, then just a bit lower. “Oh. Hang on, you’ve got a—”

In a move that’s beyond Alex’s wildest dreams, Henry cups his jaw and kisses the side of his mouth, with just the slightest bit of tongue.

Alex grins as Henry freezes against him, realizing his mistake too late. “Thanks, baby.”

“Bollocks,” says Henry. He pulls back and sighs, licking the rest of the buttercream from his lips. “I’ve lost, haven’t I.” Then, accusingly, “You did that on purpose, didn’t you.”

“I’d say I don’t kiss and tell, but.” Alex puts his hands on Henry’s thighs, using that grip to scoot their chairs closer together. “I am gonna kiss you now, so.”

“You’ll be getting to do a lot more than that,” Henry points out.

“Ew, did not need to hear that part,” June groans at the same time that Pez puts down their cake and says, “Please, I need to hear more.”

“There’s a legally binding document and everything,” says Alex, to Henry’s chagrin and Pez’s delight. “Drafted it up myself.”

“You two were pining that hard and you were already together?” Nora wants to know. “Actually, that tracks. Carry on.”

Henry has gone as pink as the cake now, but he’s smiling when Alex swipes up some more buttercream, touching it to Henry’s mouth before leaning the rest of the way in.

[hotmessmaxpress]

Rosquez Horror AU

Vale turns up at Marc’s motorhome after his crash with Pecco. 

Marc stares at him, where he is on the front step, and genuinely takes a moment to wonder if it’s really happening. Vale barely looks at him, much less speaks to him. Despite Marc’s deepest desires to move forward with Vale, he can’t even get the other man to acknowledge him. 

Until now, he supposes. 

He lets Vale in the door, and stands a healthy distance away from him. Suddenly the motorhome feels entirely too cramped, too close. Marc doesn’t know why he feels like he needs space from him; it’s not like Vale will hit him. 

Vale looks at him with narrow eyes. 

“Your crash-” 

Vale gets no further before the siren starts and they both freeze. 

It’s been a long time, years, since one has appeared in the paddock. 

The mandated emergency screen in the corner of Marc’s trailer flares to life with a crackle and an animatronic voice speaks. 

“Attention all drivers, staff, and guests. A void creature has been spotted in your vicinity. Take shelter immediately. Lock all doors and windows and arm yourself if possible. Take cover and stay quiet. Do not respond to voices you cannot see. Repeat. Attention all riders, staff, and guests. A void creature has been spotted in your vicinity. Take shelter immediately. Lock all doors and windows and arm yourself if possible. Take cover and stay quiet. Do not respond to voices you cannot see. May Mercy be with you all.”

Vale and Marc move quickly and silently. Vale locks the door, while Marc checks the windows. He shows Vale how to pull down the metal safety panels in front of the doors and windows, and Vale helps him secure the rest of the motorhome. 

Marc sends off a text to Alex with a half moon emoji and waits for the avocado Alex is supposed to send in return. Their code, unable to be mimicked by an outsider pretending to be one of them, and meant to signal “I’m safe and sheltered.”

The avocado pops into his messages shortly after, and Marc lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Vale seems to be doing something similar, staring at his phone in concern. 

“Okay?” Marc whispers. 

Vale nods, but Marc can see the tension in his shoulders. 

“Bedroom,” Marc suggests. “It’s the safest.”

They carry food and water from the kitchenette to the bedroom, and Marc closes the door. Another metal safety panel comes down, and latches into place, and Marc breathes a sigh of relief. 

“Is Alex okay?” Vale whispers. 

Marc nods. 

“Safe and secure. Are all of your riders?”

Vale looks nervous. 

“I’m still waiting to hear.”

Marc nods. 

He has the urge to reach out and comfort Vale, but the space between them in the tiny room feels vast. It’s not lost on him that Vale is only here because he wanted to yell at him. The ongoing anomaly event may be uniting them for now, but Marc has no doubt that when the threat is gone Vale will be back to hating him. 

He reaches out anyway, squeezing Vale’s hand. He pulls him to the bed and they sit.

“We may as well be comfortable,” he suggests. 

Vale doesn’t relax, though. He checks his phone again.

There’s a scream, so far off in the distance that Marc wonders if he heard it. He glances at Valentino, who has frozen in place, and assumes it must have been real. 

He has a terrible thought that at least it was far away. At least it wasn’t near them. If it has to happen, let it happen somewhere away from himself and his family. 

He wishes Alex were with him, like the first time he experienced an anomaly from the void. They were so young, at home in Cervera. He remembers watching television after dinner, then the screen cutting to a news anchor. 

The news anchor had said something confusing, and Marc had looked over at Alex, who was similarly confused and annoyed that their show had been interrupted. Whatever the anchor had said terrified Roser, though. She had come running, grabbing Marc and Alex by the arm and dragging them down the hall to the small room under the stairs that they weren’t allowed to play in. 

Alex had started crying, scared and startled by the way their mother had roughly grabbed them, and Roser had hissed at him to be quiet. Marc thought she was being mean; he remembers yanking Alex out of her arms, as if to protect him from her, and he pulled Alex against him. They’d been almost the same size at this point, long before Alex had his massive growth spurt and shot up past Marc’s height. 

Marc had held his little brother in his arms, petting his hair, as Alex calmed down. He glanced at Roser, seeing her silently praying. At the time he hadn’t known the danger they were in– he didn’t understand the sirens surrounding them and the noises outside that he’d never heard before. 

Roser brushed his hair back from his forehead, and her hands were shaking. It felt like hours that they sat there in that small closet-room, legs sore from squeezing together and sweating from the close space. 

Marc and Alex hadn’t dared to complain though, sensing that now was not the time to press their mother for information or to whine. Once the wind outside died down and the sirens finally stopped, Roser had released them from the room and fed them dessert like it was a special occasion. She kept touching their faces, kissing their cheeks and their foreheads, and she spent most of the rest of the evening on the phone. 

It was only once they reached school-age and got their first mandatory anomaly safety lesson that Marc really understood what might have happened to them.  

Vale is still tense. Marc sees it in the lines on his face, lines that weren’t present the last time Marc and Vale shared a shelter during an anomaly. 

They had been in a hotel that time, toward the end of their relationship, but before things got awful, and the hotel was expensive enough that they hadn’t had to leave the bed for more than to close the curtains. The doors and windows were already secured, and it was easy to forget the void creature lurking outside, far below them. They had climbed back into bed after they ensured the curtains were closed, and they muted the TV. 

They treated it almost as if it was a thunderstorm, wrapped up in blankets and waiting for it to pass. Vale had pressed kisses along his neck, whispering reassurances in his ear. 

“You’re safe,” he had said. “I won’t let anything hurt you.”

At the time, Marc had believed him. 

Marc swallows the lump in his throat, and reaches for a water bottle. He cracks the top and takes a long drink, trying to soothe the dry feeling in his throat. 

Vale checks his phone again. 

“Pecco hasn’t checked in,” he says, so quiet that Marc barely hears it. Marc’s heart jumps into his throat. His brain races through the full spectrum of possibility. It could be that Pecco was separated from his phone, and when the sirens go off it’s instinct to run without reaching for something like a phone. It could also be much worse– Marc’s ears strain for another scream. 

“He might just not be near his phone,” Marc says, reaching for Vale’s hand again. 

Vale allows Marc to take his hand, and he squeezes it. 

They sit in silence for another long while, simply holding hands and waiting. 

“I’m sorry about the crash,” Marc says. 

“No you aren’t,” Vale says, giving Marc a dry look. 

“I don’t want to crash. I don’t want anyone else to crash either.”

Vale grits his teeth, and Marc tries to pull his hand away. Vale doesn’t let him, and it reminds Marc of all the arguments that ended with Vale trapping him in his arms until they both calmed down. 

“You race like you want to crash.”

Marc doesn’t have anything to say to that, at first.

“I’m getting older,” he finally breathes. “Things are changing for me,” he adds, leaving it at that.

Vale turns and stares at him, appraising him. 

Marc wonders if Vale can see the lines that Marc himself sees when he looks at himself in the mirror. He wonders if Vale’s eyes pick up on the way that Marc’s body hurts; he wonders if it shows on his face how tired he is of being in pain. 

Vale opens his mouth to speak, but they’re interrupted.

“Valentino!”

Marc’s entire body freezes. Pecco’s voice is outside, calling through the walls. 

Marc squeezes Vale’s hand hard. He knows Vale is smart enough not to respond, but he can’t take that chance. He hoists himself up and straddles Vale, pressing his forehead to Vale’s. He stares Vale in the eye, keeping Vale’s focus on him. 

“Don’t,” Marc warns, nearly silently. 

Vale wraps his arms around Marc, and squeezes him tightly. 

“Vale, please,” the voice outside begs. “I don’t know where the thing is. I know you’re in there- I need shelter.”

Vale buries his face in Marc’s shoulder. 

“I left my phone in the garage and got locked out,” the voice yells. “Please, Vale! Please don’t let it get me.”

Marc thinks Vale might break his ribs with how tightly he’s holding him. Marc wonders how loud his heart is; if Vale can hear it from where his face is pressed against him. Marc puts his hands gently over Vale’s ears, trying to spare him the trauma of being targeted by an anomaly. He knows how it feels to have the voice of someone you love trying to tempt you into welcoming your own death through the door. 

“Valentino!” Pecco’s voice yells again. It sounds desperate, pleading, and Marc can feel tears well up in his eyes. He hopes Vale can’t hear it. It’s a wretched thing, copying the voice of another.  

Marc has never seen a void creature. He knows that people have seen them; he went to school with someone who claimed to have run from one. Marc knew that was ridiculous; you can’t run from them and live. But they have been captured on camera, and seen through windows. Marc only knows that they’re ungodly things, wrong and twisted and otherworldly. 

He wonders now what the one outside must look like. He wonders if it bothers to take on Pecco’s appearance, or if it looks like the shadowed monster his school teachers had taught them to protect themselves against. The horns and claws made from the absence of light; sucking in light from everything they are near. 

Vale is shaking now. He’s still gripping Marc tightly, and Marc still has his hands sealed over Vale’s ears. 

There’s a scream outside, so nearby that Marc physically flinches. For a minute he has a horrified thought that it could be in the motorhome with them, and he wrenches his body around to look at the door. The metal sheeting is still in place, just like the metal over the windows. 

It won’t break in, he reminds himself. He presses his lips against the crown of Vale’s head like a blessing, like it might protect them both. 

He thinks of the time he had been in Vale’s position and thought Alex was outside. They were in Vale’s motorhome that time, before they had started to put a name to the thing that was developing between them. 

“Marc! Are you in there? Please let me in!” the thing had screamed in Spanish. 

Marc had shot up from where they were seated on Vale’s couch in silence, and Vale had thankfully gotten to him before he reached the door. Vale had gripped him around the waist, yanking him backward. 

“No!” Marc had said, and Vale had clapped his hand over Marc’s mouth. 

“Marc, that is not Alex,” Vale had hissed in his ear. He had dragged him away from the door, and Marc had struggled and cried. 

“Marc!” the voice outside called, coming nearer. Marc sobbed against the hand pressed to his mouth. Vale dragged him into the toilet of his motorhome, shutting the door behind them and bracing his body against it. He forced Marc to look at him, keeping a hand over his mouth. 

“Marc, that is not your brother. It’s not him and you know that,” he had whispered desperately. Marc had pressed his face hard against Vale’s neck and sobbed silently, and Vale had covered Marc’s ears for him. 

It was a long time that they sat there, pressed tightly together while Marc prayed to every God that his baby brother was safe. 

It was after that experience that Vale had suggested Marc and Alex have a code; a way to prove to one another that they were safe. 

Marc can’t remember if he ever thanked Vale for that.

Marc thinks of that now, as he sits with his own hands over Vale’s ears. Marc wishes he could make it end, but he knows that if the anomaly is still outside now it will be a long time before they’re released from the lockdown and fear. 

The voice outside has stopped, at least, so Marc takes his hands off of Vale’s ears. Vale doesn’t let go of him, but his arms relax a little. 

“I think it’s gone away,” Marc whispers. “It’s silent, at least.”

Vale takes a shuddering breath. 

A scream sounds from outside; Marc guesses it’s a motorhome or two over, but it sounds as if it’s in their ears. Marc flinches hard. 

“Not gone,” Vale hisses. 

Marc glances apologetically at him, then sighs and wraps his arms around Vale’s neck. They’re already in too close and intimate a position as it is. They’ve crossed a line that Marc knows they’ll regret later, but he doesn’t care. His heart has been racing since the whole ordeal started, and if pressing himself against Vale makes him feel a little less terrified he’s going to do it. Vale doesn’t seem bothered, and his arms are still around Marc’s waist. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Marc whispers. 

Vale snorts. “Are you telling that to me or yourself?”

“Both,” Marc admits. “It’s been so long since I’ve heard one so close.”

Vale is silent for a moment. 

“We had one a few months ago in Tavullia. I was there with the boys.”

Marc can only imagine how tight Vale’s security is at the ranch. 

“It was you outside.”

Marc’s heart stops in his chest.

“What?” Marc asks, voice coming out just slightly too loud. Vale squeezes him a little tighter and they both sit silently for a moment, holding their breath and listening. 

Nothing makes a sound, so they relax slightly. 

“It had your voice. I almost opened the door.”

Marc has no idea what to say about that, so he rests his head on Vale’s shoulder. He wonders how the academy riders must have reacted to that; he’s surprised Uccio didn’t open the door to run outside and punch him in the face. The mental image of Uccio running full force at a void horror because of his hatred of Marc is such a fine line between hilarious and disturbing that Marc has to cover his mouth to muffle the high pitched, hysterical laughter bubbling up. 

Vale runs a hand through his hair. 

“Calm down,” he whispers flatly. “I don’t know what you’re laughing at.”

Marc shakes his head. If he tries to explain he can only imagine he’ll laugh harder. 

Once he calms down he climbs off Vale’s lap and lays down on the bed, coaxing the older man into joining him. At first Vale stays far from him, but Marc gives him a dry look and Vale gives in. It’s not as if they haven’t already been on top of one another; pretending like they need to be separated is almost funny. 

Vale allows Marc to cuddle up to him, and after all these years Marc still slots against him easily. Their bodies both still remember how to fit together; where to put their arms and legs so that they match up like puzzle pieces. 

“I miss this,” Marc says, heart still pounding. It’s a cliche, he knows; it’s a notorious joke that there’s nothing that makes you want to bare your soul like a void event. There’s just something about thinking you’re going to die that brings out the honesty in people. 

Vale is so quiet that Marc wonders if he’s pretending he didn’t hear him. 

“I do too,” Vale says. 

“What?” Marc asks, freezing. 

“I miss you. I’m still angry, though,” Vale admits. 

“I’m sorry,” Marc says. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I never hurt you on purpose.”

He knows Vale doesn’t believe him, and the silence hangs heavy between them. Marc wishes he could make Vale see the truth in his words. He wishes he could do anything that would make Vale understand. 

The next thing Marc knows, he’s waking up to the blare of the release sirens. 

“Attention all drivers and staff. The void creature has been neutralized and the anomaly event is over. You may leave your shelter and resume regular activities. Please stay alert for any further emergency communications. Repeat. Attention all drivers and staff. The void creature has been neutralized and the anomaly event is over. You may leave your shelter and resume regular activities. Please stay alert for any further emergency communications.”

“Pecco,” is the first thing Marc says, and Vale jolts up from the bed and scrambles for his phone. It’s already vibrating with incoming messages by the time he picks it up, and Marc can see as Vale’s entire body relaxes. 

“He’s fine,” Vale says, voice cracking. “He’s okay.”

Marc sits up and pulls Vale toward him, hugging him tightly in relief. They’re both shaking now, from the rush of adrenaline and relief. 

“He’s okay,” Marc repeats. “Thank God.”

Marc’s own phone is vibrating with messages of friends checking in, but he and Vale stay holding one another anyway. 

When they finally have the energy to release one another, they don’t hurry to get up. The rest of the paddock will be recovering, taking stock of who was injured. Everything will no doubt be cancelled for the rest of the day. 

They take their time opening the metal shields and restoring the motorhome to normal. They don’t move far from one another either, though they don’t acknowledge that. 

“Why did you want to open the door? In Tavullia?” Marc blurts. 

He thinks that there’s a non-zero chance that Vale leaves here and never speaks to him again anyway, so he may as well ask. 

Vale is quiet for a moment, but he puts his phone down. 

“It was a moment of panic. I thought– I thought that if I didn’t open the door for you I’d really never see you again; nevermind that it didn’t make sense for you to be there. I just thought that I couldn’t let you die.”

Marc has a lump in his throat that makes it hard to talk. 

“I know you don’t believe me when I say it but I love you. I never meant to hurt you.”

Vale isn’t looking at him, and when he doesn’t raise his head to look at him Marc turns his back, busying himself with putting away the bottled water and snacks they didn’t use when they were under lockdown. 

“I know, I think,” Vale says. “I think I know that you didn’t mean it.”

Marc’s heart is racing and he freezes in place.

“I love you, Marc. I’m still so angry but I do love you.”

“Just give me a chance,” Marc says desperately. “Let me fix things.”

Vale looks at him for a long moment. 

“Okay.”

[eggyrocks]

bruised part five -> my person

m.list

♪ now playing: remember by alex g ♪

Iwaizumi's certain he's being punished. Some kind of penance for a transgression in a past life.

Her arms are wrapped loosely around his neck, and his arms are hooked under her knees as he carries her towards their apartment on his back. And he can feel too much of her: her cheek resting against his shoulder, her fingers absentmindedly tapping against his chest, and the warmth of her breath on the skin of his neck.

It makes it harder to focus. It makes him want to forget about how it was Bokuto's shoulder she was resting on when he arrived to bring her home. And that's something he won't let himself forget.

And as if she can hear this thoughts and decides she wants to torment him, she squirms, nuzzling in closer to him, and whispering softly, "Haji," in his ear.

He swallows before he answers. She's the only one who calls him that. "What's up?" he asks, trying not to let his rising heartbeat or twisting nerves seep into his voice.

"This is like," she starts, and then pauses, blowing out a hot stream of air that lands right on Iwaizumi's neck and goes straight down to his gut, "fucking, the millionth time you've picked me up drunk."

"Yeah," he agrees with a chuckle. "Well, you're a sloppy drunk."

She offers up a hum in agreement. "You must really fucking love me to put up with me this much."

Iwaizumi thinks that his heart leaps up into his throat, for just a second. "Of course I do," he confirms. "You're my best friend, dumbass."

There's nothing she has to say in response. She turns her head to bury her face in the fabric of his shirt. The rest of their walk back is silent.

It's only a few more minutes before they arrive home. Iwaizumi doesn't let her down once they cross through their front door and he kicks off his shoes. He ignores the smug sort of look that (the somehow still awake) Kyotani tosses in his direction and brings her directly to her room.

He thinks that she's asleep by the time he deposits her on the edge of her bed, and he's ready to throw a blanket over her and slink back into his own room. But the second he places her down, a hand goes tight around his shirt, and she yanks Iwaizumi down to lie beside her. "Stay with me tonight," she says, not once opening her eyes as she lays her head down on his chest and wraps an arm around his middle. "Like when we were kids."

It's not anything like when they were kids. When they had sleepovers and she managed to convince them both that there were ghosts and demons lurking, and they needed to stay together for protection. Or when her parents would fight and she would sneak through his window, staying the night with him just so she wouldn't be alone.

It's not anything like that, Iwaizumi thinks, as he hesitantly settles back against her pillows, and places his arm over her shoulders. "At least take your shoes off," he mumbles.

Through the darkness of her room, he can almost see the way her legs shuffle and struggle to kick off her still tied shoes. But she does so without ever lifting her head away from his chest, flicking her ankles so her shoes soar across the room, landing in a spot they're almost certainly not supposed to be.

She sighs, content, and wiggles in place, like she's trying to settle in deeper to him. "Did you know," she starts, voice heavy with sleep and intoxication, "that you've always been my person?"

Iwaizumi looks up at the ceiling. Shadows from the light outside her window shift and reshape. "Whaddya mean?" he asks, barely a whisper. He wonders if she can hear his heart beat.

"I dunno," she mumbles. "You're just my person. Like, our lives are so intertwined. I dunno who I'd be without you. Like, if you disappeared from my life tomorrow, I dunno how much of me would be left. I'd be like, a new person, y'know?"

And there's no one she'd pick over you.

Iwaizumi breathes evenly and deliberately. There would've been a time in his life, and maybe it was pretty recently, that those words would've made his chest swell up with pride. Because of course he's her person. She's always been his. That's how it's always been. It's always been them.

But now, the words twist in his chest like a knife.

I don't think she'd have room for a romantic partner that's not you.

"Don't worry about that kind of thing," he says, turning on his side, facing her and pulling her into a tighter embrace. "I got you."

Her voice is muffled, so he almost doesn't hear it when she says, "I know."

Tonight, he can be selfish. Tonight, it can be just them. He can hold her in his arms and he can't pretend that things don't have to change. Tomorrow, he will make room. But tonight, it's just them.

an: enjoy this written part :) i loved to write it. also im still working on the 500 follower requests dont worry

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @publicbathroompanic @bedeater @rottingt1tz @rintarawr @deluluforcarlos55 @ahseyy @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @baskin-robinhoods @polish-cereal @iheartamora @ferntv @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @pinkiscool @hikikaimar @makkir0ll @cr4yolaas @k8nicole @cannibalsrider @bookworm-center @causenessus @frootloopscos @0moonii @ekeio @milkwithspicyicecubes @michivrse (please complete this form to be added, it is the only way to be added)

[frost-queen]

Sudden attention (Reader!Potter x Fred Weasley)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine

Summary: [Order of the Phoenix] Harry and you were each other's solace for many years. When you suddenly get boy attention he can't cope with it. Things tense up when you receive a letter at the Black manor certainly making one specific boy jealous, who is loving you in secret. [part 2 & part 3]

The pages of Hermione’s book fluttered between numbers as a strong wind caught up with it. She sighed loud having just been fast enough to place her finger at the right page she was. Wiping some hair out of her face, she turned all the pages back to hers. You stood up right close to the edge overlooking the Quidditch field where Gryffindor was practicing. – “Maybe you shouldn’t have brought a book outside.” – you pointed out looking over your shoulder to her. Hermione sighed soft shutting her book. – “Maybe you are right.” – she answered placing the book beside her.

She got up from the bench joining you. – “They are almost done with the warm-up.” – you told her as she let her arms rest on the railing. Without asking you told her where she could find Ron. – “He’s right over there.” – you pointed at the three hoops where Ron was waiting patiently in the air for. Hermione gave you a faint smile. You had seen their practices so much you could blindly say who was at what position. Fred and George both beaters were flying around to stretch their arms out. Harry, your brother and seeker overlooking it all.

You received a firm nudge from Hermoine making you look at her. – “Who’s he?” – she motioned with her head to the other side of the hoops. Your gaze went over the field to the other side seeing him sit on his broom. – “Oh that is McLaggen.” – you told her. – “He’s new this year, just like Ron. He’s father is a big man in the ministry. See that broom of his, his dad’s special gift for his entry this year.” – you told her making her frown. – “How do you know all of this?”

You shrugged your shoulders. – “I don’t have much else to do…” – you said to her. You notice the twins flying close to the stands, Fred waving at you. You waved back at him so used to their presence you didn’t think much else of it. The practice started as you focused on the training. A girl was flying towards McLaggen throwing the ball at him. He easily caught it, looking your way as he cheered proudly. You clapped for him just to be nice. Hermione looking all bitter as she wanted Ron to do better than him. Practice went on.

Ron had stopped a score a few times making Hermione lose her mind. Screaming and cheering as loud as she could. McLaggen seemed to look your way much during it. Fred too, but you were used to it. When practice ended were you surprised that McLaggen flew over to you. You barely noticed him, ready to go down when Hermione nudged you. – “Y/n!” – he called out making you turn to him. – “Cormac!” – you called out surprised making him smile. – “You know my name, good.” – he said making you smile sheepishly.

“I…I was wondering if I could dedicate the good practice to you?” – he offered making you frown. – “I hadn’t anything to do with it?” – you responded looking bluntly at Hermoine who pulled her shoulders up. – “You… you did… seeing you cheering gave me the strength I needed.” – he continued making Hermoine snort loud. You shot her a glare to not be so rude. Hermione pressed her lips together, looking away. McLaggen searched his inner pockets for something as Hermione whispered to you she would meet you downstairs on the fields.

You nodded at her as McLaggen pulled out a handkerchief. He patted it against his cheek before handing it out to you. You stared dumbfound at the piece of cloth. – “I want you to have it Y/n.” – he said with a smile. – “You… you want me to have this?” – you pointed out a bit shy while he nodded. You reached your hand out to grab it, not sure why but declining felt rude. Before your fingers could grab it, it got snatched away from his hands a broom flying past as it made you stumble back. McLaggen clenched his teeth, glaring at Fred. Fred held the handkerchief annoyed up.

“Giving your laundry to Y/n, McLaggen?” – Fred laughed out to swallow the bitterness aching inside of him down. – “Give it back Weasley!” – McLaggen bit back bothered. He grabbed at it as Fred moved it higher up. In no time came George and Harry flying over as well. – “That is for Y/n!” – McLaggen said loud. – “This stinky cloth?” – he announced loudly as George laughed loud. Fred held the handkerchief out to you. – “Do you want this Y/n?” – he asked hoping so badly you’d decline it. His expression practically begging you not to for it would pain him to see you accept it.

Fred freaked out letting go of it as it suddenly caught fire. It vaporized in front of him, turning his head to see Harry with his wand out. – “No!” – he simply called out. – “Now get changed McLaggen!” – he ordered. McLaggen puffed loud giving you one last wink before descending. Fred gritted his teeth ready to fly after him and give him a piece of his mind if it wasn’t for his brother stopping him. All three of them descended leaving you speechless. Having no idea what just happened. You went down as well meeting up with Hermione again.

Some moments later came Ron over. – “It was a stupid practice.” – he mumbled out annoyed. Hermione came to his side, shaking her head. – “You are still learning Ron. You did so good. Give it some time and you will be the best.” – she said giving him courage. You narrowed your eyes seeing McLaggen making his way over, yet he got bumped aside by Fred running excitedly over to you. Almost like it was intended. Fred threw his arm around you, turning you away from McLaggen. – “Say Potter how about some Butterbeer to celebrate?” – he ruffled his fingers through your hair.

George and Harry also arrived. Harry poked Fred in the armpit so that he would release his arm from around you. – “Butterbeer sounds great.” – you said with a smile. Harry took you by the elbow pulling you a bit aside from the others while leaving the field. – “Y/n… how well do you even know McLaggen?” – he asked looking over his shoulder. – “Not much really… why?” – you answered not understanding fully the intention of his questions. – “Nothing…” – he mumbled out. You saw Fred look behind him to you, making you smile sweetly back at him.

“It is just…” – Harry continued breaking through your gaze with Fred. – “I was wondering why he was suddenly interested in you. It’s not like he was before. I mean he probably never heard of you before joining the team and to be fair I don’t see in why.” – harry rambled on making you come to a sudden stop. – “Really?” – you called out slapping his hand away. – “I can’t believe you! Someone shows a bit of interest in me and the first thing you do is question it! Not everything has to do with you being the chosen one and them trying to get to you through me!” – you called out furious. – “I just don’t trust him!” – Harry replied loud.

“Give me one good reason?” – you demanded crossing your arms. – “He’s… he’s a guy!” – Harry used as an excuse making you puff loud. – “Unbelievable!” – you muttered walking away from him. – “Y/n! wait! I’m just protecting you from guys like him!” – Harry shouted after you whilst Fred came jogging over with George. – “Where is Y/n going?” – Fred asked looking at you. Harry sighed loud. – “I don’t get it why are boys suddenly interested in her?” – he said loudly.

George glanced over to his brother who avoided eye contact. – “Well she is getting older Harry…” – George spoke to sooth things over. That made Harry panic even more. – “Oh Merlin I can’t take it with these boys…” – his hands desperately in his hair. – “I’m freaking out. Am I freaking out?” – he asked George in a state of panic, grabbing onto his sweater. George nodded grabbing Harry by his wrists to pull his grip off him.

“Calm down Harry, it isn’t the end of the world that boys start to notice your sister. You didn’t think she would be with you forever did you?” – George chuckled out but seeing the concerned look in Harry’s eyes he stopped chuckling. He was absolutely thinking that. George sighed loud wrapping his arm around Harry. – “Don’t worry we’ll make sure McLaggen doesn’t date your sister.” – he looked over his shoulder to Fred throwing him a wink. Fred smiled shyly. The three of them caught up with Hermione and Ron to head to Hogsmeade.

 *

“Y/n come down please!” – you heard come from downstairs. You made your way over to the stairs seeing several other doors open as well. Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Ron, Fred, and George popping their head out of their rooms as well. Harry got in motion to go after you. You were already going down the stairs. At the foot of the stairs stood Sirius Black. – “Uhm just Y/n Harry.” – he said waving Harry away. Harry nodded obeying his godfather. With a double feeling he went back upstairs. – “What’s going on?” – Ginny asked in a low voice. Harry shrugged his shoulders.

“It wouldn’t be about last night would it?” – Hermione said scared. – “It was Ginny and I who couldn’t stop giggling at night and Y/n making sure we kept quiet.” – she confessed. – “Oh so that was what I was hearing.” – George laughed out. – “I thought you were keeping pigs in there.” – he joked receiving a firm nudge from Ginny. – “I can’t let her take the blame for that.” – Hermione said determined making her way to the stairs. Ron quickly grabbed her by the elbow before she could take the first step down.

“Let’s just wait what it is about. What if you wake something up that shouldn’t be woken up.” – he said referring to if Hermione spoiled what happened last night whilst they were supposed to be sleeping, she might infuriate Sirius or rather his mother Molly even more. Hermione sighed defeated letting him pull her back away from the stairs. – “We could always listen?” -  Fred suggested as he was curious too. Not a moment later stood they all by the stairs, looking down. An ear on a string getting lowered to overhear the conversation. – “If we get caught.” – Ginny said.

Fred shushed her focusing on lowering the ear just right. Ron holding the other ear in his hand. The moment he could hear noises he shushed everyone. – “I can hear them.” – he said as they all squashed against him to overhear. Downstairs you stood in front of the table, your godfather sitting down with Lupin near him. – “Can you tell me what this is?” – he asked taking out a letter from his pocket. Molly cutting some vegetables at the other end of the table, stopped cutting to look curious your way.

“I’m not sure Godfather, you’ll have to tell me as I have no idea.” – you responded keeping your hands folded behind your back. Sirius placed the letter on the table, sliding it across. – “It’s a letter.” – he stated. – “A letter from a Cormac McLaggen.” – he continued as your eyes widened. – “May I ask who he is and why he sends you a letter?” – Sirius questioned as you were still stunned on the fact that he wrote you a letter.

Upstairs Harry was rioting. Ready to rush downstairs and obliterate the letter. Fred’s hand was shaking with jealousy as he couldn’t steady the ear. – “Keep it steady, I can’t hear them!” – Ron called out. George took over steadying the ear back again in his grip.

“I do not know of any letter Godfather. I certainly never asked him to write me.” – you answered truly not knowing why. – “So who is he?” – Sirius wanted to know, speaking rather rudely. Lupin held his hand out to calm his friend down. Molly stopped cutting her vegetables coming over. Wiping her hands on her apron. – “Isn’t it obvious!” – she called out coming to stand beside you. – “That is a letter from an admirer.” – Molly said placing her hands on your shoulders. Sirius chuckled loud almost mockingly as he snatched his glass from the table.

Molly turned you to her. – “So who is he? Is he handsome? Well mannered? Tell us dear.” – her smile ever so warm. – “No!” – Sirius slammed his fist hard on the table. – “I don’t want to know!” – he called out. Molly rolled her eyes at him. – “She’s not a kid anymore.” – she declared. – “I don’t care, no boys till you are at least 30… or 40!” – Sirius stated making your eyes widen. – “Sirius!” – Molly shouted. – “You are unbelievable!” – Sirius only shrugged his shoulders not caring one bit for it.

“Don’t worry dear, I’ll figure something out.” – she reassured you holding her hand underneath your chin, making you smile warmly at her. You always considered her a mother to you. You eyed the letter on the table, curious as to what it read. You had never gotten so much boy attention you were curious as to what boys in love would write about you.

 “Can I read it?” – you asked already moving to take the letter. Sirius slapped his hand down on the letter, stopping you. – “I shall read it first!” – he insisted upon, sliding the letter to him. You watched him open the letter with annoyance. He flipped the letter open, reading out loud. – “My cheerful Y/n.” – he read out loud with a scoff. – “Oh how delightful.” – Molly said to you as Sirius gripped onto the letter tight. His eyes going over the words rapidly, each word agitating him more as he read it in silence. – “Well what does it say?” – Molly questioned as you were waiting patiently too. You jumped out of your skin when loud thumping thundered down the stairs.

“No!” – Fred called out barging into the room. Wand out, the tip of his wand sparked. Moments later the letter evaporated in Sirius’s hands. Out of breath he grabbed you by the shoulders, turning you to him. – “Have you seen it? Read anything from it?” – he panicked frantically as you shook your head rapidly. That made him sigh loud letting his forehead fall against yours. Molly quirking a suspicious brow up. – “Good riddance.” – Sirius said wiping some ashes from the letter off the table.

“Fred what are you doing?” – you called out pushing him a bit off you. – “I…I…I was looking out for you. McLaggen is a toad.” – he said confused about your outburst. You puffed loud, turning your posture away from him. – “As soon as a boy takes interest in me you all go mad!” – you shouted not only referring to him, but Harry and Sirius as well. – “But Y/n…” – Fred said trying to reason with you. You pulled your hand away before he could take it. – “I don’t want your meddling! What is it? Do you think I’m not pretty enough to get attention?” – you scolded shooting a glare at Sirius.

Lupin cleared his throat, looking away. – “No I just…” – Fred interrupted as you rolled your eyes at him. You moved away from him closer to Molly. Molly shook her head at her son as she threw an arm around you. Then looking over her shoulder, she threw him a wink, knowing very well that he fancied you. – “Boys are insane.” – you told Molly as she guided you away. She could only nod with a hum.

----------------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[lokideservesahug]

For How Long!?!

Chapter 4: A big decision

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Pairings: Logan Sargeant x reader

Oscar Piastri x reader (platonic)

Warnings: Reader mentions anxiety/having it once, briefly. Not really angst but Sad Logan :(. This is hardly a SMAU for this part but I had to sacrifice that for some real relationship content.

Notes: I promised some more Logan × Reader relationship stuff but I'm sorry that it had to come at the cost of the SMAU aspect.

Summary: The Australian GP and its effects...

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Unlike much important news in your life, you didn't catch wind of this through a text message. Instead you find out when your boyfriend of five (nearly 6) years came barrelling into your driver's room.

Now there were a few alarming things you note.

1) What was he doing here. This is a surefire way to have the relationship the two of you have tried so hard to hide, be revealed.

2) How did he get in here. Despite you loving Logan with all of your being and near worshipping the ground he walked on, there was no way that he - a driver from a rival team- should be able to enter the Aton Martin hospitality let alone your drivers room.

3) Was he crying?

You glance at the door and swiftly sit up from the old (and oddly comfortable) chair you were resting in. "Lo? Are you alr-" The words get caught in your throat when you see his wide, glassy eyes. You have only ever seen him sport this expression on a handful of occasions and so this further adds to your worry.

Before you can even attempt to get another word in, he clings to you. It was like being smothered by a warm, sweaty, tall koala. You wouldn't have it any other way. Your hand finds the small of his back and begins to run calming circles up and down his fireproofs. "Honey." You gently coo "What's wrong?"

Instead of getting the desired response, Logan instead started to sob on your shoulder.

This is the last young you expected when you woke up.

You continue to hold him until he eventually builds up the strength to say what he came in your room for. "It's the car." There is a sharp intake of breath from your partner "Well, you saw yesterday how Alex crashed his right?" You hum in acknowledgement and as a prompt for him to keep speaking.

"So they uh..." he looks down almost ashamed. You smile softly at him to help encourage him to continue his story. "Well they told me that his chassis is broken and they don't have a spare... So I'm going to have to sacrifice my seat to Alex can drive on Sunday."

This time it was you that inhales sharply. "What?" Maybe you heard things wrong or maybe you were just misinterpreting- "Yeah I'm not racing on Sunday because Alex is 'more likely to score points." It was at this moment that your heart broke. Do they not trust him? That can't be fair. That's not right!

Despite your inner conflict, you remind yourself that you Logan is the most important thing here and you have to pull yourself together for him. It was the minimum of what he deserved especially now. "Oh honey." You hug him again and lead him to the bed in the corner of your room .

You fall back and he curls into you to lie on top of you as you run your fingers through his hair. When his once deep sobs became only occasional sniffles, you enquire "Is there anything I can do. Can I go and beat up James? Can I give you my chassis?" That makes him laugh and when he looks up you find yourself smiling. "No. Just continue holding me. "

And who are you to leave his wishes unfulfilled?

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Yourusername

Yourusername: There were some lovely sights in Melbourne. And after stealing this wonderful man, we found the most adorable record shop!

Liked by: Logansargeant, Oscarpiastri and 1,034,957 others

View all 5,432 comments

User1: I THOUGHT THIS WAS A RELATIONSHIP ANNOUNCEMENT AND NEARLY HAD A HEART ATTACK!!!

↳ User 2: Girl me 2. I was ready to start praising anything and everything but alas

User 3: OH my gosh this is where Logan went!?!?

↳ Yourusername: Sorry. He deserved a bit of cheering up :/

↳ User 4: I can't tell if this makes me really happy or really sad.

Logansargeant: No better company in the middle of Australia

↳ Oscarpiastri: Oi!

↳ Yourusername: Read it and weep Osc. Read it and weep (also you left us in the middle of a country we know next to nothing about!??!)

↳ Oscarpiastri: My bad (and I'd do it again)

↳ User 5: My theory is that Oscar didn't accompany them because he is the biggest Y/Ngan shipper and just wanted the two of them to spend time 2gther

Liked by Oscarpiastri

User 6: This is so sweet. Is this a relationship announcement?

Liked by Oscarpiastri

↳ User 7: Oscar is one of us #confirmed

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Taglist:

@nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @littlesatanicassholebitch @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @marymustdie

[rentsturner]

Alex Turner boyfriend headcanons

an: I haven’t written in a really fucking long time (if head canons count as writing idk?) so apologies if these are shit or there's typos and whatnot. Many thanks to @dropofdrool for helping me proof read and organise these, it’s much appreciated <3. finally, I know Alex is a real person but this is a work of FICTION and I have approached this as if writing for a fictional character - I am making no assumptions about Alex as a real person, just in case anyone wants to come at me. thanks for reading

AT HOME

He smells like cigarettes and clean laundry

You call him Elvis to annoy him - he will sulk about it for at least an hour (or at least pretend to) until you relent and apologise

He secretly quite likes it though

Making him watch Love Island and him being so confused and slightly scared

‘Are they allowed guitars in the villa?’ ‘I would get so bored in there’

Eventually gets invested in all the drama and is hooked

Will watch it every night even if you’re not there (traitor)

You definitely get handwritten love letters left round the house (come on we’ve all seen the evidence)

eg when he goes on tour, you’ll find little notes hidden in the pocket of your jeans or in the back of your phone case

He knows so many obscure and random words that you’ve never heard of and he’ll just throw them into a conversation sometimes to annoy you

He’s always jotting lyrics in his notebook and you have to wonder if he’s writing about you

When you argue you proper argue cos neither of you likes to admit you’re wrong

You always end up sorting it out though (usually with alex buying you flowers and a good dose of make up sex)

Alex is a pro napper - he falls asleep so easy and anywhere, it’s a habit from all the time he’s spent on tour

One of his favourite things is to have a nap with you, legs tangled together, him softly snoring into your shoulder

When he wakes up his hair is all ruffled and his eyes bleary, but he’s never looked better

Both reading your books together before bed <3 (he defo has reading glasses)

Alex has tried to teach you to play guitar so many times, but it always ends in sex

Cos he thinks the best way to teach you is to put his hands over yours, and press himself right up against your back, and whisper soft praises in your ear when you don’t fumble a chord, and then he sees your soft skin just where your neck joins your shoulder and he can’t help but press open mouthed kisses there and then you’re distracted and then…

It’s obviously never going to end well

ON TOUR

Obviously he tours a lot and most of the time you will travel with him, if he’s not busy

When he comes off stage he has two moods

He will either be so hyped and take hours to calm down, like will be constantly making some form of physical contact with you (holding your hand, pressing himself against your back, forehead kisses, normal kisses, randomly grabbing your hands and dancing with you)

Or he will be really quiet and tired, you can see it in his face that the concert has just taken it out of him

Usually when he’s like this, you just sit with him backstage for a while, just the two of you, sometimes in comfortable silence or sometimes just whispering sweet nothings to him and playing with his hair

You try not to let him speak too much cos if he’s in that mood then his throat is probably feeling rough

He usually just needs an hour or two to decompress, then he’s back to his usual self, he always apologises to you after for being like that, but you don’t mind looking after him, he would do the same for you

It's sometimes hard being away for him for so long when he’s on tour

like when he’s touring the day of your anniversary

He thinks you’re at home, he facetimed you that morning and had sent your present in the post to be delivered.

However, the rest of the boys secretly fly you (along with a few of your best mates) out to the show and manage to get a place in the front pit

You bring a massive poster sign saying ‘SHEFF WEDS R SHITE’ which easily gets his attention after a few songs

He goes to shout something rude but then he sees your beaming face under the poster, he can’t believe his eyes

He goes on to play all of your favourite songs with the biggest smile on his face and literally can’t take his eyes off you the entire show

After the show you manage to get backstage to see him and he’s so happy to see you

‘You didn’t really mean what you said on the poster though, did you?’

ON HOLIDAY

Holidays all the time, Alex loves taking you away

Like when he’s touring, if you aren’t working or busy, he’ll fly you out to join him in whatever city he’s in

You’ll usually go out for lunch during the day and sit by the pool in the hotel they’re holed up in, then go and watch the concert in the evening

You see so many cities that you’d never usually go to thanks to him

When he’s not touring he loves going on adventure holidays - biking, hiking, horse riding, skiing, bungee jumping - if it involves thrills or good views, he’s down.

even if you refuse to do some of the scarier stuff, he doesn’t mind - he loves just having you there, and he needs someone to take the photos of course!

basically it would just be the dream life icl

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Happy New Year (Alex Blake x f!Reader)

Synopsis: It's new years. Who will you kiss at midnight?

Words: 1k

Warnings: none

Garcia’s apartment was packed with bodies. You hadn’t been expecting it, assuming it was going to be a get together for the team. Instead, there were people you’d never seen before milling about, asking you what you did and if you were there with anyone. You clutched your glass of punch as if it was your lifeline.

“Yeah, uh, it’s great,” you said to the man who had come up to talk to you.

“So are you good at like martial arts stuff?” he asked, eyes sweeping down your body, “could you put me in a headlock?”

“I could. I don’t know why I would though,” you replied before downing your cup of punch, “I have to go get a refill.”

“Let me,” he said, taking the cup from your hands.

You gave him a forced smile before disappearing back into the crowd the moment his back was turned. Ducking between a small gap your shoulder bashed into someone’s spine. They stumbled forward. You caught them around the elbow, keeping them from falling.

“Oh, hi Alex,” you said.

She smiled at you as you took your hand back from her arm, turning to look at you properly. Your mouth became dry at her smile, the way it always did but you didn’t want her to ever stop. You could hear your heart thumping in your ear, very out of time with the music Penelope had playing.

“I didn’t realise you were here already or I would have come found you,” she said.

“I saw Morgan earlier but uh… I think he’s preoccupied,” you said, seeing him wrapped in the arms of a beautiful woman, “I didn’t see you though.”

“Did you know Garcia knew this many people?” she asked, taking a half step towards you, blocking out the rest of the party.

“I’m not surprised,” you replied, “she talks to everyone. Even that guy who sells the coffee on the third floor that always burns the milk.”

“I wonder if she thinks they’re nice,” she mused.

“You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Nope.” She grinned at you.

You laughed, her chuckle joining in. You felt your cheeks heat as her hand landed on your arm. Someone shoved into your back, sending you stumbling forward this time. She caught you, arms landing around your waist. You looked up, finding her face very close to yours, close enough that if you lent forward just a little you’d be kissing. Her smile softened as she looked down at you.

“Careful or I’ll think you’re falling for me,” she said, that familiar teasing note in her voice coming through too strong.

Your laughter was too high pitched, you knew, but you couldn’t stop it as you disentangled yourself from her grip. Looking away you caught sight of the tv screen, the crowds in Times Square cheering.

“You know, I’ve never kissed anyone at midnight on New Years,” you said, staring at the tv and the people waiting for the ball drop. Then your brain caught up with what your mouth had been saying and your cheeks heated up again.

“Never?” she asked, eyebrows raising.

“Oh god you think I’m really uncool now, don’t you?” You pressed a hand to your eyes.

“Hey, no,” she said, pulling your hand away, threading your fingers through hers, “I already thought you were really uncool.”

“Shut up.” You shoved at her shoulder.

She tugged on your joined hands, pulling you closer to her. Your breath caught, finding her so close you could feel her breath ghosting over your cheek. She was doing it on purpose, messing with your head. She had to be.

“I’m not sure I believe you’ve never had a New Years kiss,” she said, voice lowering.

“Are you calling me a liar?” you asked.

“I just don’t know if I can believe someone as beautiful as you doesn’t have people tripping over themselves to kiss you.”

The way she was smouldering at you ruined any chance of you thinking a single thought beyond how desperate you were for her. She tilted your chin up with her forefinger, eyes sweeping down your body then back up. You gave a weak laugh that cut off when her eyes darkened.

“How about I kiss you if you can’t find anyone better,” she suggested.

“I’m not going to find anyone better,” you murmured.

“You don’t know that.” Her lips were curling up into that smile you’d grown to love.

“I do,” you insisted.

“How can you possibly know that?” she asked.

“Because there’s no one better than you,” you breathed out.

She paused a moment, looking down at you before her smile settled more firmly in place. Her eyes zeroed in on your lips. You shivered, no innocent thoughts in sight.

“Oh baby girl,” she murmured, drawing impossibly closer, “you’re coming home with me.”

You felt breathless, the implication turning your knees to jelly. Her thumb ran along your lower lip, gently tugging on it until your teeth released it.

“10!”

You jumped, having forgotten anyone else was in the room with the two of you. You looked around, the countdown continuing. A warm hand cupped your cheek, turning you back towards her.

“So what’s it going to be, baby girl?” she asked.

You surged forward as the cheering began, pressing your lips to hers. Her hand slid into the hair at the nape of your neck, tangling in it until you felt it pull. Her tongue ran along your lower lip, begging for entrance. You sighed into her mouth as you opened up to her, melting against her. Her arm curled around your waist, pulling you against her body. Every sinful curve pressed against yours.

You whimpered as she began to draw back only to feel her press a kiss to the corner of your lips. She pressed another kiss to your lips, lingering for a moment, giving you hope she’d continue making you breathless.

“How about we go celebrate the new year somewhere more private?” she murmured against your lips.

“God, yes, please,” you moaned.

She tangled her fingers with yours again, pulling you out of Garcia’s apartment. She shot a heated look at you over her shoulder, full of promises you were going to make sure she kept.

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Christmas | Jeremy Swayman

wc. 1.2k

Spending Christmas with Jeremy and your family

Your family always got together on Christmas. 

This year, it was at your parents house and your multiple aunts and uncles, your cousins, siblings, grandparents, second cousins, etc. would all be in attendance. Your family treated holidays as if they were a big family reunion and you loved it every single year. 

Your eyes flutter open and are met with the early Christmas morning sunlight streaming in through your bedroom window. You turn in Jeremy’s embrace, eyes falling over his soft features. His hair is tousled, sticking up in every direction, his lips resting in a soft smile, the quiet snores escaping through. You lift a hand up, running your thumb over the crest of his cheekbone and tracing the skin there. You watch as Jeremy’s eyes peak open and upon seeing you, his smile grows wider. 

“G’mornin,” he murmurs, his voice deeper due to not using it. 

“Morning bear,” you greet and he grins at the pet name. 

“What time is your family coming?” he asks, pulling you closer towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek and then your lips. 

You roll over, grabbing your phone to see it’s almost 10 o’clock. You turn back and face Jeremy who has now pulled a lock of your hair into his fingers and is combing through it delicately. 

“Any minute,” you tell him and he smiles but you can tell there’s a hint of anxiety behind his expression. 

“It’ll be okay,” you tell him, reaching up to brush your fingers lightly over his chin, forcing him to look at you. 

“I know,” he says, moving to press a kiss to the center of your palm. 

“Ready?” 

You two lounge in bed for a bit longer until you start to hear a commotion downstairs and you can tell that your family members are starting to arrive. You both get out of bed, getting dressed in a comfy but cute style outfit. You’re in the middle of pinning up your hair when Jeremy strides into the bathroom, wrapping his arms around your waist and pushing his face into your neck. 

“You look beautiful sugar,” he whispers and his breath against your exposed neck causes a shiver to run down your spine. 

You place your hands on his, leaning back into his embrace and letting your eyes flutter shut. Jeremy presses a long kiss to your neck and begins to move his hands so they’re softly massaging your sides. 

“Keep doing that and we’ll never make it downstairs,” you warn, sleepiness threatening to take over you. 

“They’ll wait,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear and you grin, but ultimately move away from his touch. 

“Come on lover boy.” 

You lean on your tiptoes and press a kiss to his lips before walking out of the bathroom with Jeremy on your heels. 

The minute you begin to descend the steps, you hear your family members and smile at the rambunctious group crowding your family home. You can’t help the trot you sport heading downstairs excitement running through your veins as you get closer and closer to your cousins. 

“(y/n)!” your cousin Abby bounds towards you, tackling you in a tight hug and you reciprocate, screaming her name back out of habit. 

“You look so cute!” she gushes, pulling back to look at you and you turn in a circle to show off your Christmas outfit. 

“Abs, this is Jeremy,” you step back and take Jeremy’s hand, pulling him towards your best friend and family member. 

“Jeremy, the beautiful, wonderful, psychotic, Abigail,” you joke and Abby nudges your side. 

“Two out of the three of those things are true,” she grins and tugs Jeremy in for a hug before letting go. 

“Who else is here?” you ask when she steps back again. 

“Alex, Lindsay, Brad, Aaron, everyone,” she lists with a shrug of her shoulders. 

“Already?” 

“We’re waiting!!” your mom yells, finally catching onto the fact that you and Jeremy have made your way downstairs. 

You roll your eyes but smile as Abby grabs your hand and drags you into the living room. Jeremy follows nervously, wanting to stay back and prepare himself to meet your whole family but never given the chance as he’s thrown right into the whirlwind. 

Your Aunt is first to attack, rushing over from her seat to greet Jeremy and welcome him to the family. 

“I’m Aunt Judy but you can just call me Judy!!” she greets, pulling Jeremy into a hug and Jeremy casts you a surprised glance that makes you hide a giggle behind your hand. 

“Let me introduce you to everyone! You’re so handsome! (y/n) is so lucky my goodness,” your Aunt rambles as she starts to pull Jeremy around the room and you and Abby are a mess of laughter at the sight before you. 

“(y/n)!” your older brother Thomas calls and you turn and pull him in for a hug. 

“Where’s Ava?” you ask when you pull away and your brother rolls his eyes but smiles and points behind him. 

“Aunt (y/n)!” she screams in excitement.

You bend down as she bounds over to you and when she reaches you you pull her up into your arms and swing her around. 

“Ava baby!! I missed you!!” you squeal, pressing kisses all over her face making her giggle loudly. 

“Ava, do you want to meet someone special?” 

“Santa?” she asks and you throw your head back in laughter. 

“No baby Santa was already here,” you remind her and she pouts for a moment. “This is someone really special to Aunt (y/n).” 

“Who?” she shrieks, whipping around to look at everyone. 

You carry her over to where Jeremy is, standing near the Christmas tree and chatting with your dad. 

“Ava baby,” you say, taking Jeremy’s hand and calling his attention to your niece. 

“This is Uncle Jeremy, my boyfriend,” you explain and Ava grins, hiding her face into your neck for a moment while peeking over at Jeremy with curious eyes. 

“Aunt (y/n)?” Ava tries to whisper but fails. “He’s cute.” 

“He is, isn’t he?” you say, turning to Jeremy who’s face flushed red at all of the attention on him. 

You gesture for Jeremy to follow you, the two of you taking seats on one of the open couches and Ava snuggles up to you on your lap. 

“Uncle Jeremy? How old are you?” Ava asks, feeling bolder now that she’s close to you. 

“I’m 25,” he says, leaning in and smiling widely at the young girl. 

“What do you do for a living?” 

“I play hockey,” he tells her. 

Ava continues to ask Jeremy question after question and he answers them with ease. At some point, Ava has moved off of your lap and into Jeremy’s. He bounces her on his legs, answering questions and playing games, generally keeping the young child entertained. 

You watch the scene with huge heart eyes for your boyfriend. Ava was smitten the second she laid eyes on Jeremy and you can’t say you blame her. Jeremy was your whole world, you couldn’t help but imagine a future where this was your daughter instead, where you and Jeremy are married, where Christmas is hosted at your house instead. 

“You okay?” Jeremy asks, finally noticing your stare. 

“Just love you that’s all,” you murmur and Jeremy leans in and presses a kiss to your lips. 

“Love you more.” 

You spend the rest of your Christmas with your family, opening presents, watching movies, and enjoying your time with the people you love the most. 

[rafesveryrealgf]

Lavender Sunflower - Inseparable pt.2

a/n: a couple of people asked for a part 2 to Inseparable … sooo yk I had to deliver!! This is short but anyway.. I wanted a happy ending this time

Warnings: none I think!! Just a little bit of fluff

“Rafe.. he’ll be okay.”

You placed a reassuring hand to his thigh as he drove away from Topper’s house.

He nodded, keeping one hand on the steering wheel as his other arm rested against the car door, refusing to make eye contact with you, knowing he’d break down if he did.

Rafe had a soft spot for two things — that was it. You being one and the other being his babies. He hated seeing Nathan like that, and he felt bad for leaving his best friend and girlfriend to deal with it. You and Rafe both knew they didn’t mind it but Rafe didn’t care. He still felt like shit leaving his son.

“Yeah,” he replied softly.

Although he knew he was a better father than his dad ever was to him, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering — Wondering if maybe he was a shitty dad for not talking to his son longer than he did, for not attempting to soothe Nathan’s mind a little bit more before leaving. Or maybe even just holding him in his arms for a few more minutes just so Nathan knew Rafe truly didn’t want to leave him, just as much as he didn’t want Rafe to leave.

You reframed from replying, you just patted his thigh and gave it a tiny reassuring squeeze to silently let him know he can talk to you when he’s ready.

The doctors appointment went by smoothly, not many questions were asked considering it was your third pregnancy — you felt like a pro at this point.

And on the way to Topper’s house — to pick up the boys, you thought about Nathan and how he probably got over his tantrum fairly quickly after you both left. You could tell Rafe wasn’t thinking the same though.

“We should take the boys to do something later, the park, maybe?” You suggested, hoping Rafe would finally talk in full sentences now that he’s had time to ease his mind a little.

He was quickly pulled out of his thoughts by your suggestion. “Uh, yeah.” He replied. “We should probably get Nathan some ice cream too for the inconvenience.” He joked.

You laughed at that and nodded, but didn’t say anything, you were just happy that he seemed to have stopped beating himself up so much.

He briefly looked away from the road and onto you, taking in your beautiful, pregnant figure — he gave you a slight grin before speaking again. “You’re so beautiful, baby.” He placed his hand on your inner thigh, now looking back at the road.

“You’re so random,” You laughed at his spontaneous words. “..But thank you, baby.” Your arm was now extended as you slowly slid your hand up his arm, eventually reaching around to the back of his neck.

Rafe soon pulled into Topper’s driveway and began to walk around the car to let you out of the passenger seat. You couldn’t lie, you felt a bit rushed, but you knew he was just happy to get inside — curious to see if his son had forgotten all about his meltdown.

Neither of you cared to knock this time, knowing Topper nor Alex cared.

As soon as you made your way inside, there sat Nathan, on the floor, playing with Kai — whilst Alex and Topper sat on the couch, watching them play. Nathan immediately turned his attention over to the front door. His face lit up when he saw you and Rafe — jumping instantly to his feet to run over to you both.

Rafe extended his arms out to his son and bent down, with a big toothy smile. “Hi, buddy. Missed you so much while we were gone.”

Alex and Topper watched from the couch with smiles on their faces. Nathan’s arms wrapped around Rafe’s neck as Rafe’s arms wrapped around Nathan’s waist, lifting him up. “I missed you, daddy.” He rested his head on Rafe’s shoulder.

“Hey! what about me?” You frowned, jokingly, placing your hands on your hips.

He lifted his head up and gave a big grin. “Missed you too, mommy.” He then extended his arms out towards you, taking you a little by surprise, but you instantly pulled him into a hug once Rafe let go of him and made his way over to his other son.

Kai was in his own little world, not caring much about what was going on around him, as per usual.

“We gave Nathan a little talk, yeah?” Topper said with a grin across his face as he stood from the couch and made his way over to you.

Nathan nodded quickly against the crook of your neck. “Uh-huh.” He replied.

Alex finally stood up a few seconds after and began walking towards you and Topper. “Well.. what did we talk about, Nate?”

Rafe was now in Kai’s world, sitting on the living room floor, playing with him — not listening to the conversation going on by the front door.

He removed his head from your neck to look at you before speaking. “That I should be nicer…because…you go through a lot with…” he was struggling to remember the entire conversation so he attempted to stick with the main point. “…The baby…and that I shouldn’t give daddy a hard time when he leaves,”

You looked over to Topper and Alex, silently thanking them for what they had done.

You rubbed Nathan’s back with a small smile, trying to hold back tears. “I love you, buddy.”

If you had said any more to him, the waterworks would have came flooding due to your hormones, so you stuck with those four words.

Rafe finally acknowledged the conversation, picking up Kai and making his way over to everyone. “What’s up?”

“You just missed the cutest thing ever, that’s what’s up.” You reframed from telling him everything, wanting to wait until you got back in the car so you could both talk to Nathan some more about it.

When you and Rafe were on your way out you thanked Alex and Topper once more. They truly had no idea how thankful you were they talked to Nathan. Truthfully if they hadn’t, no one would’ve. Rafe would never admit it, but his biggest fear was becoming his father so leaving the disciplining to you was something he did quite a bit. You loved Rafe for not being anything like his dad, but it came with a downside too. You couldn’t fully blame him for the way he was, but you already planned on having a talk about it when you both got home.

[daisyblog]

Hair

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN's reaction to Harry's new hairstyle.

Based on this request

Harry was always known for his curls or his long hair, especially during the band. His hair was just as famous as him. He had gone through a variation of styles. 

The overgrown curls, the one that YN remembers trying to mess up when they first started dating. The one that outlined his baby face, despite having to grow up over night. 

Next was the slightly trimmed hair style. Harry still had a good amount of hair but it meant his curls were shorter. It made him look more grown up. 

The slicked back quiff was Harry’s go to hairstyle during the Take Me Home tour. YN used to spray half a can of hairspray on it each night before a show, to make sure the volume didn’t drop. But she didn’t mind because Harry’s hair matched his personality, sophisticated and playful. 

Outgrown and pushed back, YN noticed that Harry no longer wanted his hair trimmed, only styled. Did she complain? No! She liked this new hairstyle, it screamed rockstar vibes and YN was living for it. 

Due to not having his haircut for so long, Harry’s hair grew and grew. It was shoulder length for majority of the On The Road Again tour. Harry’s habit was running his fingers through it and flipping it to the side. YN and the fans went feral for this hairstyle, especially when he styled it into a bun. Dreamy! 

When Harry got the role of Alex in Dunkirk, after One Direction went on a break, his luscious long locks didn’t suit the 1940’s vibe. So off with a chop they came. YN was seen hiding her face in Anne’s shoulder, repeating “I can’t look” as the hairstylist brushed Harry’s hair into a bobble and cut away his hair. 

The shorter curls stayed for a while, and YN could see as they got older the shorter cut with a few curls sticking out suited him. It made Harry look older but some innocence still remained. But to YN’s liking, she still got to run her hand through his hair at any opportunity. 

So like the rest of the world when Harry decided one day to shave his precious curls off, YN was absolutely heartbroken, and to some very dramatic.

YN knew Harry was going for a haircut that afternoon, but when he arrived back home later on with lack of hair, rather than his typical trim…you could say she was lost for words.

Harry entered their kitchen, and acted like nothing was out of the ordinary. “I’ll make veggie lasagna for dinner, if you fancy it?”.

YN was still stood by the kitchen sink as she had just finished washing some dishes. She just stared at Harry, wondering if he realised that his scalp was visible. 

“Babe? Why are you looking at me like that?”. Harry noticed YN hadn’t moved a smidge since he arrived home. Of course he knew why, but there was no harm acting oblivious.

YN looked him directly in the eye. “Please tell me this is a joke?”. She wanted this to be a prank, where Harry said it was all a lie and his curls were actually hidden under a bald cap or something.

Still keeping up the act, Harry pretended to be confused. “What’s a joke?”.

“Where’s your fookin’ hair?”. YN questioned, already scared for the answer. Afraid it was going to be one she didn’t like. 

Harry hesitated, before reaching up to touch his head. “AH! Where’s it gone?!”. He couldn’t keep the act up, and a loud chuckle left his mouth. 

YN’s hand came up to cover her mouth for a second, as she realised that Harry intentionally asked for this haircut. “Why? Why have you done this?”.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, as though it wasn’t a big change. “Just fancied a change.”. 

“A change…a change!”. YN couldn’t believe how calm he was being right now. “Dye your hair fookin’ pink, blue or like fookin’ rainbow if you want a change…don’t shave the whole lot fookin’ off!”. YN’s rant began. 

“Is it bad?”. Harry grew nervous for a moment, worried he may have made a huge mistake. 

“Well no…that’s what’s annoying..you can still look good even when you shave your fookin’ head!”. YN complimented the fact that there wasn’t a look Harry couldn’t pull off. “But I need to be dramatic right now…oh my..the fans…they’re going to be devastated.”.

“It’ll grow back, no big deal.”. Harry stated like that would solve everything. 

“You better have your curls back in time for our wedding.”. YN warned him, to which he only smirked and saluted her playfully. 

It was a short while later, when Harry realised that YN had been tucked away in their bedroom for a while. Gently peaking through the gap in the doorway, he wasn’t expecting to see YN sat on the floor, surrounded by multiple photos of himself.

Harry tucked his lips into his mouth, trying to hold his chuckle back. Deciding that this was a moment he wanted to catch, knowing nobody would believe him if he told them, Harry began to discreetly record on his phone. 

“Babe? What are you doing?”. Harry asked, entering their bedroom, realising that the photos of himself were of all his variations of hairstyles over the years. But he was shocked when he saw a tear run down her cheek. “Are…are you crying?”.

YN was still sat on the floor, yet to say a word. She closed her eyes and wiped away the tear.

“Can I ask what you’re doing?…it’s like you’ve made a shrine of me.” Harry attempted another joke, still finding the whole thing amusing. 

With her eyes still closed, posture still composed, YN explained. “I’m mourning the loss of your precious curls, if you could be respectful of all our loss.”.

Harry masked his giggle with a cough, not wanting to be “disrespectful”. “Babe? This is all a bit much…don’t you think?”.

“I told you I need to be dramatic right now…so please, leave me to grieve.”. YN knew she was being dramatic, she knew it wasn’t the end of the world, she knew it was only hair and it would grow back. But she was weak for his luscious locks. 

Adding more fuel to the fire, when fans were quick to notice the lack of hair on Harry’s head after a photo was leaked. YN joined them on airing her feelings. She had made a TikTok of a compilation of photos of Harry over the years with hair covering his head, with Taylor Swift’s song Bigger Than The Whole Sky playing in the background. 

YN made another TikTok, where she pretended to cry every time Harry walked passed her and repeating “The precious curls!”.

Fans were highly amused at YN’s video of her recording herself searching for “how to grow your hair quickly?” on Google and also researching rosemary hair oil as she had seen the trend on TikTok for hair growth. 

But in all honestly, YN didn’t dislike the change but did she want Harry’s hair back? YES! 

Tag List: (let me know if you would like to be added) @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats @harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r  @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour @bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl @buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream

[wifeofnatasharomanoff]

Nail Salon

WARNINGS: none, flirty wives Nat and Reader, fluff, concerned nat and reader fr

WORDS: 1,458

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x f!Reader

SUMMARY: you and your wife Nat have a nail salon day with your toddler

A/N: chapter 1 of Darkest Nights will be posted a bit after this ;)

haven't checked up on you guys in some time <3 how are you, my loves?

Natasha woke up with your hair spread all across her face and her arms stuck around your body. “Detka..” you groan at her attempts of awakening you, “babe. I can't move my arms.” you huff as you sat up and release her arms. You flutter your eyes open, only to be blinded by sunlight. Which you hadn't expected, normally these days it would be cloudy this time. “It's beautiful out, isn't it?” you glare at your wife, “why did you have to be a morning person?” you whined as she pressed soft kisses against your neck. “Beautiful day, beautiful wife. Good morning moya lyubov..” your frown transformed into a smile, “Hi Natty.”

“Mommy! Mama!” you heard one of the kids call, Aliana had just recently started pronouncing words a bit properly, that of which you couldn't get used to quite yet. “Mommy's awake, sweetie! Just one sec, I'll be out there.” you threw off the covers and leaped out of bed. “What was that about morning people?” Natasha said with a cocky smirk. As of course, Aliana was too, a morning person. “This is why I'm Alex's favorite!” you shouted out as you left the bedroom.

“Mommy!” the little girl clung onto your legs, “how did you sleep, honey?” you grabbed her by the arms and pulled her up in your arms. “I sleep good. Alex snores.” you chuckle as you walk into the kitchen, “wanna know something sweetie?” the toddler nods curiously. “Mama snores too.” you said with a hushed tone. The girl giggles as you set her on the kitchen island. “What do you want for breakfast?” she hums as she thinks of a response, “hmm.. cereal! Pwease.” you mentally thanked her for not asking you to make anything too crazy this early. “Hi guys.” you heard a small voice pop up in the kitchen, Alex with his hair a complete mess, and his clothes wrinkled. “Someone slept well tonight, hey buddy.” you got on your knees to his level and hugged the boy. “Hi mommy!” he wrapped his tiny arms around your neck. “Do you want cereal, Alex?” he nodded as he let go of your shoulders, allowing you to stand back up. “Is Uncle Thor coming over today?” he asks as he padded his way to the table.

“No, not today buddy. But, I can ask Uncle Clint to bring your cousin over.” he had a bright smile on his face, “yay! Thank you mommy! You're the best.” you handed him his bowl of cereal. “You're welcome cutie pie.” he frowned slightly, “I'm handsome, not cute!” you pinched his cheek before walking over to the kitchen island. “Mommy loot!” you scrunched up your brows in confusion, wondering what she was pointing at. “What is it sweeti—” you yelped as Natasha came up behind you with her hands resting on your waist. “Nat! Oh my God, stop scaring me it's 9 AM!” she laughed as she placed a searing kiss on your jawline, “I would say I'm sorry but.. you look cute when you're scared.” she whispered into your ear. You couldn't lie, that did slightly make your cheeks go red, but you still managed to lightly smack her on the bicep. “Natasha! The kids are in the room. Shut up.” she pecked your cheek before turning her attention to your daughter.

“Mama can you paint my nails today?” Natasha paused before answering, Ali never asked her to paint her nails before. Usually, she'd ask you. “uh.. alright, if that's what you want sweetie.” the toddlers face lit up as she grinned at the redhead. “Yay!” you looked at the little girl, “what do ya say? Mommy can dress you up all cute and mama will paint your nails?” you ask her. “Yes pwease!” you brushed away some of her stray baby hairs and fed Aliana a spoonful of cereal. “Eat up, then we can have a little salon day.”

After Ali finished breakfast you went to go search for her cutesy floral and multicolored dress. She's been begging you and Natasha to let her wear that for a few days by now, so you chose to let her wear it today. “Nat come here! Please.” the redhead walked into your bedroom, “yeah, babe where are you?” you peeked your head out of the closet. “Over here darling!” you call out to her, “what is it detka?” she asked— her question soon being forgotten as she laughed slightly at your attempts at grabbing the dress. “Stop laughing. Just get the damn dress for me.” she narrows her eyes at you, “someone's feisty today.” she said as she backed you up against the wall. “Nat..” you poke her side. “Give me the dress.” she pressed her lips against yours, pulling you in for a slow kiss, she lifted you up by your waist and moved to the shelves. “Take the dress baby.” she breathed out as she broke the kiss, “thanks..” you picked up the dress and got out of her hold.

“Ali! Whe– when did you get here sweetie?” she squealed as her eyes widened at the dress, “I just walk in room now.” you sighed in relief as you placed the dress on the bed. “Mommy ups!” you saw the little girl with her arms up and smiled as you picked her up into your arms. “Honey, I need to put you on the bed if you want to wear the dress.” she pouted slightly, “okay..” she hopped out of your arms and onto the bed.

You changed her out of her pajamas and into the dress, “yay! Thank you mommy!” she slid off the bed and did a little twirl in front of the full-length mirror. “Can mama paint my nails now?” Natasha walked out of the closet, “I don't know.. can she?” your wife said as she picked up Aliana on top of her shoulders. “Hi mama!” she giggled as she pecked at Natasha's cheek.

“Can we play nail salon toooo?” you nod, “yes, of course, sweetie.” Natasha looks down at you with her brows laced in confusion. “Uh.. krasivaya what's nail salon?” “Some game Ali made up, we pretend to be her little nail technician rather than her parents– it's silly I know, but she's your daughter so I blame you.” you open the nightstand drawer and take out a few bottles of nail polish. Natasha placed the toddler down on the bed and you handed her the nail polish. “What color do you want Ali?” she pointed at the pastel pink. “This one?” the little girl nodded. “uhm..” Natasha turned her gaze to you, “what do I do?” she mouthed.

“Just talk to her but— remember, you're pretending to not be her parent Tasha.” she nodded and opened up the bottle, “so.. what's your name sweetie?” she asked as she put light strokes of nail polish on Aliana's tiny nails. “Aliana.” Natasha smiles, “how old are you Aliana?” “I'm four!” the girl giggles as your wife paints her nails.

“I have a husband and kids!” you and Nat slightly frown at her statement, but she keeps doing her nails nonetheless. “oh really? Is your husband nice?” Natasha asked, “he's mean!” you couldn't tell if you would laugh or scold Aliana. “He doesn't help wif the kids, and–” the toddler continues, “he's wike, "ba- babe go make dinner!" she mocked in a masculine voice. “oh wow.. um–” the redhead looked over at you with a confused look and widened eyes. “I'm gonna spill tea on him.” you burst into laughter, someone had been hanging out with Uncle Peter too much lately.

“ooh thank you mama! My nails look so pwetty!” Aliana jumped onto Natasha's lap and threw her little arms around her shoulders. “You're welcome..?” Natasha said, still processing the words that came out of her toddlers mouth. “I'm gonna go show Alex now. Bye bye!” she crawled out of Natasha's arms and ran out of the room.

“What was that.” she asked you, “I think she should cut down getting babysat by Peter and his little kid friends.” you sighed as you sat down in bed beside her.

“Yeah..” she chuckled. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look today, babe?” you smile and roll your eyes, “I don't know, have you?” she sneakily slid her hand up to your upper thigh. “Let me show you moya lyubov.” you smirked as she leaned in closer, her lips almost touching yours. “As much as I would love this.. Clint's supposed to be here with Nathaniel soon.” she groaned. “how soon? I'll make it quick detka.” you got up from the bed at the sound of the doorbell, “that soon.” you giggled as you left her to go open the front door.