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marueonmain · 3 years

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Not Risking You ~ WillNE

Summary: Y/N is not aware just how much she and Will have in common. Will takes care of slightly injured Y/N.

Pairing: willne x reader

Warning: Fainting.

Word Count: 1.2k

Everyone is unique; that is not to mean everyone is special, but more literally, everyone is unique in at least some small aspect or another. Some have wisdom teeth, while others do not. Some have a normal temperature higher than the average thirty-seven degrees, while others run colder. And Y/N? Well, Y/N had an irregular heartbeat and lost consciousness if it spiked too high too quickly.

But it did not happen a lot. She could count on one hand – two hands if she were honest – the number of times it had happened in her adult life. So why bother telling anyone about her condition? If it was unlikely to happen, then it was not like anyone needed to know, right? Right?

It was early afternoon, and Y/N was late to the shooting of the second Eboys bake off. Y/N slipped into the large room, hugging the wall until she found a clear enough spot for herself. While getting her camera from its case and screwing on the correct lens, she thought she could feel eyes on her, but everyone was focused on the four boys at the front of the room when she looked up.

Y/N got to work as the sole photographer on the shoot – taking still shots for the thumbnail and, far more important, for promos on the boys’ individual social media and the group channel accounts. Everything was going fine; the video was not exactly a bake off as all the production emails she received had implied – it was a cook off. James again assigned the meals: chicken tikka masala for George, a shepherd's pie for Alex, toad in the hole for Will, and for himself, a traditional full English breakfast.

It was not a surprise to anyone that after the fiasco with the jam tart, Alex was given extra help for his meal in the shape of pre-made mashed potatoes. He picked up a knife to start chopping the carrots and onions, but before attempting a single cut, he looked out toward the cameras.

Alex asked, “Can someone cut this? It’ll take me ages.”

The other boys continued working on their own meals; there were no objections to Alex having made the request nor shouting that he was trying to cheat.

“I could,” Y/N piped up; she did not consider herself the speediest chef in the world but thought anyone would probably be faster than the inexperienced cook. Setting her camera back in its case, Y/N moved behind the counters at the front of the room, washed her hands, and took the knife from Alex.

About five slices into the first onion, she misplaced her hand and dragged the knife across her finger. Blood sprung from the cut and mixed with the small amount of remaining water on her hand to create an effect like she was bleeding more than she was. Y/N paled and stilled.

And it was not the blood – she was not afraid of blood. It was the accident's unexpectedness; the sudden onset sting of a cut splashed with onion juice sent her heart rate jumping. There was just a millisecond of wooziness before she lost consciousness.

Will had been stunting all afternoon in hopes of attracting the attention of the recently hired photographer. His posture was impeccable as he pushed his shoulders down and his chest out to appear more muscular. Not once did Will allow himself to slip into his resting face, as he plastered on his most handsome smile the entire shoot. He even attempted a spatula flip – which did not end as he planned.

A dream-like haze clouded his head, and weakness overtook his limbs each time his eyes caught hers. Like many men, he did not think he had a specific type; he did not consider himself picky in most situations. Women were women. If he could get with one that was good enough for him. But Y/N. Sweet Y/N, she was his type; she was everything he did not know he looked for in a woman. And it was…wow.

Therefore, Will was extremely jealous of Alex when Y/N stepped out from behind the camera to assist the shorter man. Will was upset that he had not thought to ask for help – that could have been him standing shoulder to shoulder with Y/N. Amidst his anger, Will heard Alex ask, “Are you ok?”

Will looked up from the sizzling sausages in his pan just in time to see Y/N drop quickly and heavily with her whole weight. Stuck in shock, no one moved – no one except Will. It was not even three seconds, and he was crashing to the floor himself to kneel at her side. Y/N was again conscious, that much was clear as, despite her closed eyes, a weak groan escaped her lips and her head rocked toward Will. All his experience with fainting, Will had never been on the other side, and it was terrifying. Y/N was not his, but he was scared like she was; he was hurt like he failed her in not protecting her from something he did not understand or even know about before that single fear-filled moment.

Around the fallen pair were both whispered and raised voices expressing shock and confusion. Someone mentioned calling 999 until James commanded, “Hold on. Will, what do we do?”

“Give me a minute,” Will replied, not looking up.

Y/N was conscious but not fully awake. It was uncomfortable, and Will could not help feeling like a bit of a creep, but he knew what people had done to wake him up from his fainting episodes in the past. He reached a hand towards Y/N, apologized in his head, and began rubbing a circular pattern on her sternum. It had hurt (in the best sense) when other people did it to him, so he was not alarmed but actually relieved when Y/N let out a hissing groan at the contact. He spoke to her in a soft voice.

“It’s alright, Y/N. You just gotta wake up. All you gotta do is open your eyes. Can you do that?” Will bit his lip, contemplating his next move, before adding, “Open your eyes Y/N, please, for me?”

After about ten seconds, Y/N’s eyes fluttered open then closed. She pulled her arm up and covered her eyes. “Everyone is looking at me.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s ok.” Y/N moved to push herself up to a sitting position. “I’m alright, really.”

Will stopped Y/N from getting more than a few centimetres off the ground. He pushed her back down with gentle force. “No. Don’t jump up because you’re embarrassed about having attention on you. I’ll tell everyone to leave – I will – just don’t push yourself. I’m going to get you water and you’re going to drink as much as you need and we’re going to stay here as long as you need. I’m not risking you.”

Y/N felt her heartstrings being struck with each word out of his mouth, and as her eyes focused on Will, she thought she never before felt so understood. She never before felt so calm and confident being basked in the full attention of another. It was nice. It was something she wanted to get used to.

#will lenney #willlne #willne imagine #willne x reader

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marueonmain · 3 years

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Could I request a oneshot with the eboys and the reader who faints due to iron deficiency (anemia), Will gets especially worried since he is in love with the reader? PS. i cant wait for the next part of windflower!!!!!

I changed the reason for fainting to something I am more familiar with (have experience with) so that it would read as more authentic. I hope that is alright and that you still enjoy! It’ll be posted in about thirty mins :3c

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marueonmain · 3 years

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Sun Would Be Good ~ ImAllexx (2/2)

(part one) (part two)

Summary: Alex tries to help Y/N out during a difficult time. She is not accepting of his help after how he acted in the past.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Language. Themes of Self-Deprecation. Depression Talk.

Word Count: 1.4k

Not even an hour after his girlfriend left did Alex become so overwhelmed with guilt that he was out of bed and standing in Y/N’s doorway with head in hands and a million apologies. She gauged his sincerity with brows furrowed in thought. Alex sniffled, stifling tears as he watched her watch him.

He was an absolute wreck: grease shined on his forehead, his lips were pale and cracked. Beyond the dark bags and prominent veins in his eyes, there was something else, something besides regret: deep, unsettling fear. Alex was afraid that his outburst would be it for him that Y/N would realize how pathetic and shit he was (or at least he thought himself to be); he feared she would leave.

Y/N stepped forward and placed a chaste kiss to his lips, accepting his apologies. Alex continued to spend the next two weeks, making an effort every hour of every day to do or brainstorm what he could do to regain her trust completely. Never wanting her to think he could or would go off on her again.

Twitter - Y/Username · 202X-12-10 “I’m going off social media for a couple of days. If I survive, you will be hearing from me next week. #staysafe”

Alex read the tweet over again. It was not the most outlandish thing ever for someone to go on a break from social media's toxic environment and especially from twitter. No. It was not the most outlandish thing ever, but it was enough – the tweet, the wording, the timing – for a certain degree of concern.

When Y/N did not pick-up his call – Alex thought maybe she was in the shower. And when Y/N did not reply to his texts – he considered her phone might be on silent. And when Y/N did not respond to either in six hours – he wondered if she might want time to herself. And when Y/N had not reached out to him in eighteen hours – Alex went to her apartment.

Y/N opened her front door as if in slow motion, giving Alex time to take her all in. Apart from some baggier joggers than usual, a shirt with dye or some other dark stain around the collar, and untidied hair, she looked…well…normal. And that was good, right? He went to see her because he was worried and there she was looking fine and safe and like herself.

Alex sighed with relief. “Hi, babe.”

“Hi,” she spoke low but not timid.

Both stood for a breath in silence, looking at each other. More so, Alex felt he was looking at Y/N, and, while her eyes were meeting his, she herself was not. A thousand-yard stare, that is what people called that type of look, but Alex never thought he saw it in person until he saw it from Y/N.

He asked, “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Y/N backed up from the door allowing her boyfriend a few steps inside.

“I got you some breakfast; it’s your favourite,” Alex forced a chipper tone into his voice as he brought the bag he was holding low to his side, up near his face, and smiled like he was posing for a deliveroo advert. “I’ll plate it for you if you want.”

“I already ate cereal this morning.” Y/N dropped her gaze and headed towards the living room; she added an apathetic, “Thanks, though.”

Alex took the food to Y/N’s kitchen and put it in the fridge. He returned to see Y/N sat on her sofa, flipping through her continue watching list on netflix; he sat down beside her.

He asked, “What are you watching?”

“I don’t know.”

“We could watch something together.” He nudged her shoulder with his. “I’ll grab a blanket, and we can cuddle – you love that. What’s that movie you wanted to show me, remember, the one we were gonna watch on your birthday but weren’t able to? You remember the name?”

Y/N sighed, not taking her eyes off the screen. “We didn’t get to watch it because something happened with that week’s eboys footage, and you were in a panic call with James and them for three hours.”

“Oh. Right, right,” Alex said more to himself.

All the lights in the room were switched off. It would have been pitch black in the space if not for the bright screen and all the window curtains being drawn, letting in the somewhat obscured natural light of the chill London morning. Alex watched as Y/N clicked through her continue watching list to the end and then started over again. Her grip on the remote was loose, and her eyes uncaring.

He said, “You seem tense. I could run you a bath, would you like that? It’d be nice and warm, relaxing. Put bubble bath or a bath bomb in there – make it smell nice.”

“No.” Y/N’s jaw became rigid as she spoke through her teeth, “Please don’t.”

“Last time you were down like this, you liked it when I ran you a bath.”

“Yeah?” Y/N spun her head to face him as her face took on an all-over wicked expression, her shoulders stiffened as if she were about to jump into a fighting stance; with a cruel curled lip, she continued, “Well, last time you were ‘like this,’ you yelled in my face telling me to fuck off.”

A small whimper escaped Alex’s mouth at the change, and for the first time that morning, it was him who dropped eye-contact. He babbled out, “I thought we were past that. I apologized; I didn’t mean it. It just happened.”

“No, it didn’t!” Y/N yelled and took to her feet. “Nothing we do ‘just happens.’ No matter how quick the decision was – you chose to shout at me. In that half-second before, you knew what you were going to do – you knew you were going to lash out – and you knew it was going to be at me. And a half-second is a hell of a long time for you to have backed out, for you to have not done it, but you did.”

Y/N moved to face out a window, away from Alex; she sighed a long sigh that ended with a hiccup. A near minute passed before she turned around, with eyes wet enough to shine even in the low light. She said, “It sucks. It sucks because we didn’t choose to be how we are, and we did nothing to deserve it. But no matter how screwed up the chemical balance in your brain is, you’re still responsible for your actions, Alex. You being here now, playing nurse or whatever, that doesn’t change what happened.”

“Neither does being cold and pushing me away.” Alex jumped to his feet as well; he stood still, gesturing with palm-open hands as he spoke. “You need support right now, even if you’re too stubborn or proud to admit it. Or maybe you feel like it would make you a burden to reach out. You’re not a burden, Y/N.”

He searched her eyes for a break in their hardness as he continued, “Just because you feel something doesn’t mean it’s true. And that sounds so simple a concept to grasp, but you and I know it’s not. I’m trying to grow and learn as well. I am. I’m not here to try and further make things up to you – I’d like to be able to, but that is not what I’m doing right now. I’m here because if I were to walk out now, knowing how upset you were, I would hate—” his voice breaks on the last word, and he starts over, “I would hate myself even more than I already do.”

“Alex, I—”

“You can hate me, Y/N.” A tear slips over his waterline. “I’d understand if you did, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m here for you. I’m always here for you.”

Y/N crossed the room and crashed into Alex in an embrace that should have left one or the other bruised. Both clung to one another tighter than ever before. And as Y/N had her hands wrapped around him, she felt how Alex’s shoulder shook slightly. It was comforting to know that it was not just her who was struck with emotion, who was being vulnerable; it was them together. As it should be.

“You really hurt me, Alex,” Y/N said, her words muffled from how she buried her face in his shoulder.

He kissed her hair and whispered back, “I know. I’m so sorry.”

#imallexx #imallexx imagine #imallexx x reader #alex elmslie #alex elmslie imagine #alex elmslie x reader

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marueonmain · 3 years

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Sun Would Be Good ~ ImAllexx (1/2)

Summary: Y/N tries to help Alex out during a difficult time.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Language. Themes of Self-Deprecation. Depression Talk.

Word Count: 1.5k

Y/N unlocked the front door to her boyfriend’s apartment using the one copy of the key Alex was ever given. He said he would not need it for himself as George was always in.

“Hello? Alex?” Y/N called out. She looked to the undisturbed sofa and glanced into the empty kitchen as she walked through the familiar space. Closing in on Alex’s bedroom, she thought she would have heard something like his presentation voice as he spoke to a camera or the electronic fanfare of a video game or dialogue from a Harry Potter film like he had her watch with him a hundred times before.

There was no such sound – none at all.

KNOCK. KNOCK. Y/N opened the door to Alex’s bedroom. It was about the same as it always was: trashed: wrinkled clothes sat in heaps on the floor and on his desk were plastic cups half-full with flat drinks and frappuccinos with just a few centimeters of whipped topping left at the bottom. His bed bore crumpled sheets and a balled-up duvet hiding every part of the young man save a socked foot dangling off the edge and his button nose poking out for fresh air.

Yes. It was about the same as it always was; still, there was one small yet stark difference. It was dark. Alex was never one to rise in the morning, and yank open his curtains to the bright sun outside. But he did usually have his ceiling light on during the day – however dim and horribly yellow-tinted it was.

Y/N crossed to Alex’s bed. On the low and narrow table near his headboard was his phone plugged into a short charger. Y/N turned it over in her hand. It read: 15:20. And under the time were all the notifications of her messages to him – unnoticed and unread. He had switched his phone to silent.

Y/N considered that maybe Alex had slept in that long because he needed to; he stayed up so late, so consistently. She debated the idea for another minute until she found she simply could not convince herself that it was just a normal lie in. Alex was not even asleep – or he was not anymore – as he retracted his foot, tucking it back under the duvet, and released a not-so-quiet groan of discontent.

Besides the rustling of sheets and their collective breathing, there was another sound – running water. Y/N put the phone back face-down on the table and left for the ensuite. It, too, was trashed. Y/N flicked on the light. All the stuff Alex kept out of sight – toothbrush, nail cutter, polish, unopened tin of hair balm – were strewn about. A thin line of water fell from the tap. Y/N turned it off, and when she did, she noticed a razor without its disposable blade lying in the sink. She took a step back. Looking around, her eyes landed first on the empty towel rail, then the disposable blade sat on the floor in a splat of shaving foam.

Y/N picked up the blade, ran it under water, reattached it, and left the razor on the counter round the sink. She returned to the bedroom and to Alex, who was still hiding under his duvet in the middle of an unkempt bed in a dark room.

Y/N spoke for the first time since seeing him. “Alex, love. Are you awake?” She knew the answer already.

The lump in the middle of the bed did not move; a voice came from within it. It was faint as if carried on a breath rather than pushed out with intent, “Yeah.”

“What’s happened in there?” She tipped her head in the direction of the ensuite despite knowing Alex could not see the gesture before sitting gingerly on the end of his bed.

“All I wanted, yeah?” Alex interrupted himself with an exasperated sigh then started again, this time sounding like he was speaking through clenched teeth, “All I wanted was to shave. I couldn’t— I thought I could shave, but no. I didn’t leave the shaving foam where I always leave it, and it took me forever to find it. Then the razor breaks the second it touches my skin. And I couldn’t find the blade to put it back together. And then it’s like, who cares at that point? I’m not going out anyway, nobody cares if I shave, nobody cares to see me. And now I’m saying it all out loud, and I sound so stupid, but I just wanted to be able to do one thing – that’s it – one fucking thing!”

Y/N made a closed fist and tapped it against where she figured her boyfriend’s legs were hidden under the duvet. She cleared her throat. “How about you get up, huh? We can go out for breakfast.”

“I can’t go out right now.”

“You don’t even have to brush your hair or anything,” she said as her eyes scanned the floor; she spotted his black TikTok bucket hat. “You can just throw on a hat. I look a mess anyway.”

Alex waited, then whispered a gentle plea, “Go away, Y/N.”

“I know, ok? I know it’s difficult.” Y/N’s throat tightened. “It’s difficult, but it isn’t helping you to sit in the dark with whatever is going on in your head right now.”

“Nothing.”

“Maybe breakfast is a lot to ask. I don’t mean to be pushy; I just—”

Underneath the lump, Alex shifted from lying on his side to his stomach, as evident when his voice became muffled like it was being filtered through a pillow. “Leave me alone.”

“I want to be able to help. Could you help me to understand what I can do?”

“I want to sleep.”

“Do you think you could sit up? Nothing else, no going anywhere, just sitting up.”

Alex ripped the duvet off himself, throwing his arm out with a hard and quick movement like he was trying to rid himself of the appendage; it was a wonder he did not dislocate his elbow. Y/N got her first good look at his face: messy hair weighed down with grease and eyes so bloodshot that she subconsciously scratched at her own to relieve some phantom irritation.

“Fuck off! Alright, Y/N? Is that clear enough for you?” As the last accusatory word left his mouth, the regret was already plain on his face. His features softened, and he pulled into himself.

“You don’t mean that. I know you don’t mean that.” Y/N tried to keep her composure because she still understood despite how blindsided she was at the outburst. She understood the potholes in the road to recovery and management; she understood a depressive episode. And how Alex might not have recognized he was in one.

It must have been just as difficult for him as it was for her to realize when she had slipped. Her descent was always slow, gradual enough that she could normalize everything. Instead of thinking it odd she had not brushed her hair in three days, she would simply wake up on the fourth and ask herself: Why do it today? I haven’t the last three. Instead of reflecting on the unreasonableness of how one small thing going wrong caused her to scream out in unjust anger or caused tears to spring to her eyes, she reasoned with herself: I’m just sensitive, I know that.

Y/N empathized with how Alex’s episode was causing him to be disproportionately irritable and to respond inappropriately to not being able to shave, a little annoyance that he would otherwise brush off easily or not care about at all.

“Sorry.” Alex untangled himself from his sheets. It was slow going as he moved like it was not him controlling his body, like he was on strings. He dragged himself up into a seated position and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Not meeting Y/N’s gaze, he said, with hesitation, “Sun would be good. I think. Would you want to go for a walk with me?”

Y/N smiled genuinely for the first time that afternoon. “Absolutely.”

“I need to change; would you mind grabbing my shoes? I kicked ‘em off last night near the sofa.”

Y/N nodded. She crossed the room and took two steps out of his bedroom – SLAM – she jumped at the sound of Alex throwing his door closed behind her. Y/N turned around and tried the handle – locked.

“You’re not serious,” Y/N muttered. She pulled harder on the handle as if her strength were the issue; she raised her voice, “Are you serious?! Alex!”

Surely not. Y/N let her hand drop limp from the door handle. Not Alex. Not my sweet boyfriend, the clingiest and softest man I’ve ever met. He hadn’t slammed a door in my face. No. Surely not. And if he had…? She stood there – at the door – not because she was waiting for Alex to open it. To laugh and call it a joke even though it was far from funny. No. She stood there because she just did not think to go anywhere else. Y/N was consumed in all her worst thoughts. It was just what she had tried to stop Alex from doing. And now I’ve failed twice.

#imallexx #imallexx imagine #imallexx x reader #alex elmslie #alex elmslie imagine #alex elmslie x reader

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marueonmain · 3 years

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In the podcast when Will stopped the segment of reading hate comments towards Alex, and checked in on him, and made a point to tell Alex that the people are wrong and that his headband hair is a look (tm).

I mean... 🥺👉👈

Like if you agree.

#willne #will lenney #imallexx #alex elmslie #eboys420

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marueonmain · 3 years

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author interview tag

~ thank you @elmslielife ~

Name : Marue

Fandoms : eboys and friends (stephentries, sidemen, etc.)

Where You Post : Tumblr/Wattpad

Most Popular One-shot : Bottom Line ~ Memeulous Most Popular Multichap : WINDFLOWER

Fic You Were Most Nervous About Posting: All He Wanted ~ ImAllexx (it was more than one scene and I worried that that was a mistake)

How You Choose Your Titles: my titles are phrases (taken from the works themselves) that I think are particularly strong or eye-catching

Outlines? WINDFLOWER has an extensive outline (I don’t follow it)

Completed: 6 imagines

In Progress: 1 multichap, 3 imagines

Coming Soon / Not Started: more imagines

Prompts? A must. I like requests a lot :))

Upcoming Work(s) You're Excited About: part twelve of WINDFLOWER

I tag @bathed-in-lilac and anyone who see this and wants to participate!

#waffle

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marueonmain · 4 years

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All He Wanted ~ ImAllexx

Summary: Alex gathers enough confidence to approach Y/N...too bad someone else got to her first.

Pairing: jealous!imallexx x reader

Warning: N/A

Word Count: 1.5k

It could have been luck; many people believe in luck and fate and coincidence because life is difficult to explain. And it was even more difficult to explain just how Alex came to be at that same gathering on that same night as Y/N. He thought it could have – must have – been luck.

Alex never saw Y/N outside of big events. He first bumped into her at a surprise birthday bash for Wroetoshaw. Then he spotted her in the stands when watching videos of the Wembley Cup charity match. And again on the sidelines at the Challenger Games. Closest he ever got was when he shouted and cheered off the same balcony as her at the fight in Miami. And in all that time, he still was not 100% sure who she was or who she was with. Was she someone’s plus-one? A star in an obscure corner of youtube? A personal assistant to one of the Sidemen? A secret girlfriend kept hidden from fans? He did not know.

Commemorating themselves for hitting ten million subscribers, the Sidemen hosted a massive three-night celebration. Each night featured a different location with its own aesthetic and music and enough alcohol to have to send each guest to hospital five times over. Everyone Alex ever heard of or met from that world were invited – including commentary youtubers, beauty bloggers, including twitch streamers, instagram models, old love island contestants, including the rest of the eboys, and including her.

Alex watched Y/N dancing, swimming amongst the ocean of people, and being accepted into smaller groups – smiled at – chatted with – recognized. Everyone had eyes on her at some time or another though his eyes never left.

She bounced with the beat and danced moves that were not the most graceful but were also not exclusive to the robot. Y/N held onto a playful closed-mouth smile. Her tousled hair shined with product or maybe a little grease. Blue of the lights bounced off her eyes and cheeks and lips; Alex’s gaze lingered on her lips.

Y/N was a dream – better than a dream because she did not fade – it was then unfortunate that he thought himself a nightmare; that while her presence brought delight and laughter, he brought depression and uncomfortable smiles.

It was unreasonable of him to flush hot with spite at watching a redheaded woman approach Y/N. But he did. Redhead tapped her shoulder and – when Y/N turned around – hauled her into a serious embrace. She held her flush against her chest. Ten seconds passed, a lot of time to be stood motionless on a dance floor. As she pulled back, Redhead dragged her hand down Y/N’s arm, stopping to hold Y/N around the wrist after the two separated.

It was obvious, perhaps not to everyone, perhaps not to the heteronormative seeking individual, but certainly, to Alex. Redhead was not peering upon Y/N’s face with eyes of friendship but of desire, an amorous gaze which screamed that she was interested. And Y/N did not look to be refusing.

Alex’s throat tightened, and his mouth tasted of dirt. All the swallowed words he wished he had said, sat in his stomach like a stone. Earlier that evening, he had fussed over his hair; put thought into his clothes; worked and reworked conversation starters; made himself ill with nerves; all in preparation to impress a woman with a girlfriend. It was almost laughable.

There was a pinprick behind his eyes, and he looked down to blink hard. His shoulders fell, the corners of his mouth fell, his heart fell, and met the stone in his stomach. He left to refill his drink; he had to weave an odd path through the hundreds of people to avoid sloshing drinks, drunk stumbles, and the occasional near elbow to the nose. At the bar, he ordered another of the same.

Alex did not know what to do with himself; he wanted to leave – all he wanted to do was leave – but it was not an option. Not with all of his mates there. Leaving would mean questions and concerned looks, and though he was grateful for his friends at times, he knew he would go mad if even one of them asked him a single—

“You alright?” asked a familiar voice as a familiar hand landed on his shoulder. It was Will. His forehead was wet with sweat, and his posture terrible as he continued, “What are you standing round for? Why yous not dancing on someone? Plenty of guys here.”

Alex shrugged. “I already know most of them. And the rest are too tall for me.”

“You’re chattin’ shit. Like you wouldn’t hop on Jimbo in a second if he asked?”

“Shut up.” Alex was content with stopping the conversation there but Will’s hand on his shoulder squeezed him hard. Alex looked up into blue eyes too insistent to let him go. He sighed, “I was looking to talk to Y/N, but she has a girlfriend. Redhead in the silver shorts over there.”

Will cast his eyes out in the vague direction Alex had pointed. There was Redhead dragging Y/N from off the dance floor to a somewhat secluded blue-lit corner. Y/N was laughing; she brought her hand to her mouth as she calmed then dropped it as a new laugh bubbled up. Redhead smiled and said something. Y/N nodded, and Redhead left.

“I know her!” shouted Will. “That’s Mia’s mate! She was begging to tag along, wants to get with JJ – wouldn’t shut up about it for hours!”

“What you mean?”

“Y/N’s single, far as I can tell. You going to go for it?”

Alex curled his fingers a bit tighter around his cup. He brought it to his mouth and muttered something like, “I’m not—I don’t—after I’ve finished this drink.”

“You’ve finished.” Will smacked the bottom of Alex’s cup.

“Fuck!” Alex jumped back as the drink flooded his mouth and splashed into his face; some even ran down his neck and onto the collar of his shirt. His eyes narrowed, and his lip curled into a snarl. He yelled in his annoyed voice – the one he pitched lower than usual to sound intimidating, “You’re such a dickhead!”

Will giggled. “Look how red you are!”

“Prick.” Alex turned and left with the final word, still clutching his then empty cup in his shaking hand. Not five steps from the bar, he again spotted Y/N.

She was stood alone on the outskirts of the dance floor. Though her feet were still, she swayed her hips a bit to the rhythm of the music. She held onto her signature closed-mouth smile as her eyes drifted around the room.

Anxious anticipation dissolved the jealous stone in Alex’s stomach into something which bubbled and sloshed about. It felt a lot hotter than before, like there were ten times the people in half the space. He walked towards Y/N; he thought he did not want to get ahead of himself and overthink too much as it might end up that there was nothing between them. But in that second, when her eyes first met his, he knew he would rather die than not give it his all.

He held out his hand. “I’m Alex. I’ve seen you at a lot of these things.”

“Really? I didn’t think you’d noticed me.” Y/N shook his hand, giggling. “I’m joking. I saw you looking at me earlier; what took you so long?”

“Just now got up the courage.”

Y/N smiled wider and batted a hand against his arm. Instead of pulling back, she let it rest there on his skin. “I’m glad! Want to dance?”

“I do, but it wouldn’t be attractive.” Alex was so intoxicated by her bright eyes and her hand on him that he felt like he was floating. He was not worried about speaking too quick or babbling, how much to smile or how his words might spill out of him; he was conscious of Y/N over himself; he was transfixed.

“Come on, you got to!” She leaned closer to him. “Or I might think you’re no fun!”

“And what if I’m not?”

Y/N laughed. “Fuck off!” And with that hand she had left on his arm, she dragged him to the dance floor.

It would be difficult to explain just how Alex came to be at the right place at the right time and with the right amount of courage to kindle that spark with Y/N. He thought it could have – must have – been miraculously good luck.

#imallexx #imallexx imagine #imallexx x reader #alex elmslie #alex elmslie imagine #alex elmslie x reader

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marueonmain · 4 years

Video

twitch

ImAllexx’s Big Brave Boys

#imallexx #eboys

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marueonmain · 4 years

Text

Popping in for a quick second to ask: is it just me or does it seem weird that people are begging for Alex to wear a skirt/dress when he reaches 3k twitch subscribers?

Like it feels like a lot of people are acting like it’s a punishment...what is hilarious/embarrassing about a man wearing a skirt/dress?

Men do that all the time.

Maybe I just don’t get it.

#alex elmslie #imallexx #eboys

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marueonmain · 4 years

Text

Hope-Filled ~ WillNE

Summary: Will confirms his suspicions about Y/N’s well-being though he is not altogether prepared for what that entails.

Pairing: willne x reader

Warning: !!DO NOT IGNORE!! MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING - SELF HARM MENTION AND SCARS

Word Count: 1.3k

Maintaining a long-distance relationship is complicated; maintaining a long-distance relationship during lockdown felt near impossible. However, Will was too determined and too lovesick to let his relationship with Y/N fail because of a pandemic.

Alongside their usual lengthy phone conversations, video-chat dates, and good morning/night texts, Will also made a point to have small gifts sent to Y/N twice a month or so. Anything open and available to be delivered, even if it was just a deliveroo order from her local corner shop.

Lockdown was a difficult time for everyone, and if Will could make it the slightest bit happier for his beloved girlfriend, he would do so.

He would also claim the small gifts were unrelated to him asking Y/N to be in more of his videos. With everyone inside, his views were going up and up, but he knew a couple of ‘ft. my girlfriend’ in the titles would seal the deal for loads of new subscribers. Y/N was a good sport and played along via discord.

As soon as it was confirmed that lockdown was being lifted, Will made plans for Y/N to spend the weekend in London. He heard that adorable smile of hers in her voice as she agreed to come.

It was Saturday. Will was having trouble focusing on the beautiful woman snuggled up in his arms with her legs tangled with his. Nor could he concentrate on the film his laptop set up near them was playing. No. His mind was elsewhere – not that that was terribly unusual – thinking about one thing in particular: a thirteen-word (give or take) comment left under his most recent video.

pouch_of_music – 11 minutes ago “why does Y/N seem so nervous?? she pulls at her sleeves at 1:15 3:22 5:01 8:13 9:43 AND 9:59”

Will had not noticed Y/N being nervous in the video. She sounded the same to him as she always had. Maybe it was odd she was wearing a hoodie when it was in the mid-to-high twenties all week but it was not that unusual – right?

Looking down at her, Will did not think she looked different or acted differently. She was Y/N. In a hoodie. Pushing the sleeves down every time she shifted positions. Or else he could see red marks on her arms. Huh.

He watched her another moment. Sure enough, several open-ended oval marks were peeking out under her cuffs. Will’s eyes fluttered to Y/N’s face and her hair. She had two barrettes pulling her hair back, but beyond keeping it out of her face, their designs were chosen to match her outfit.

“What are you looking at?” she giggled, smiling at him.

Without a word, he reached for her hair and snatched a barrette, then in almost a single swooping motion pinned the accessory to the exposed skin of her wrist.

Perfectly matching the shapes – matching the burn marks.

“These are—”

“I can explain.” Y/N interrupted him. Skin of her cheeks flushed pale, and her eyes were blown huge. Fright was an expression that made her near unrecognizable. Taking her wrist from out of his hold, she cradled it close to her chest, knowingly or not, making herself as small as possible in the space.

“You made those, didn’t you?” Will could not muster a calm voice, sounding on the brink of tears as he begged, “I don’t understand. Y/N, you got to talk to me.”

“You weren’t meant to—I was going to tell you. I promise.”

Sitting up, Will let his eyes fall to his lap a moment before returning to Y/N. Lips pulled inward; he gave a gentle shake of his head. “No, you weren’t.”

“What?”

“It’s like…” he trailed off. Will knew what he wanted to tell her, but he was scared he might not choose the right words. He spoke slower, considering each one, “Thinking to hurt yourself, that does not come from you, that comes from an illness. And all illnesses want to do is take from us. Humans are social, so one of the first things mental illness is going to claim is that: our ability to reach out and find support.”

Y/N squirmed as he spoke and moved as far as possible from him while still being sat on the bed. She rubbed her wrist; she might have even been shaking. Y/N ducked her head to avoid Will’s intense gaze, and managed to squeak out a pitiful, “I don’t understand.”

“Illness. It’s going to tell us that it’s a sign of weakness to lean on people who are our friends, our family, but that’s not true.” Bold and crashing into each other, his words resonated with passion as his fever-pitched. There was a genuine belief in and conviction to what he was saying, “It’s lying! It’s lying to keep us from reclaiming what we need to survive. You see that Y/N, don’t you?”

A sob racked through her as she collapsed into him. As she could not be far enough from him seconds before, she now could not be closer. Y/N cried in a voice inconsistent in volume, switching between muffled through tears and not, “I’m sorry, Will. I don’t like that I do it. I don’t want to do it. I just—I’m a mess. Nothing is working, and I’m so tired of being tired! Like I’m on the brink, and I can’t do it anymore – I can’t handle it, but I have to because it doesn’t stop. It never stops.”

Will held onto her tight like if he relaxed his grip a single centimetre she would be lost to him. Swallowing his own distress, he spoke with a softer voice than he knew himself to ever possess, “What if you’re a mess? It doesn’t matter. I’m a mess. You think everyone is walking around knowing what they’re doing all the time? No. Nobody knows what’s going on. Not really. Hurting yourself more, it—it isn’t the answer.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok. It’ll be ok. I’m sure it doesn’t feel like it now.” Will felt Y/N shake her head against his chest. He placed a quick kiss to her hair before continuing, “It’ll get better gradually – without you really knowing. Until you know, you know? Like you’re lying in bed with the flu for three days, and on the fourth, you wake up realizing you’re not so sick anymore. You were getting better the whole time you just didn’t notice.”

Y/N pulled back, worry shining in her gleaming wet eyes. Red had crawled up her neck; it was painted across her cheekbones and nose. As she drew back, Will unwrapped his arms and moved his hands to her shoulders. He rubbed them up and down, continuing, “Nobody wakes up without the flu and misses having the flu. It wasn’t a part of them as a person – never was.”

“You can help me, right?” she mumbled the words into a jumble, “You’re going to help me?”

“Y/N. You are worth everything to me. I’ll do everything you need me to.”

“I don’t know what that is.” Y/N took Will’s hands from her shoulders and held them in her own. It was him, and that is the push she needed to start moving, start getting herself out from under it all.

“Me neither.” Will could not help the small smile that took his lips. “We can figure it out. We’ll schedule something – a doctor maybe or if that’s too scary right now, a therapist, or both?”

“Therapist?”

“No matter how much I want to, I can’t—I’m not equipped to—”

“I understand.” Y/N interrupted. “I’m scared, but I understand. Thank you.”

Will and Y/N shared a tender, hope-filled kiss that sealed an unspoken promise between them.

Crisis Text Line Text HOME to 85258 (UK) or to 741741 (USA and Canada) Emotional Support Helplines UK: 0170 876 5200 USA: 1-800-273-8255 Canada: 310.6789 (no area code needed)

#will lenney #willne #willne imagine #willne x reader

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marueonmain · 4 years

Text

There is a conversation between Alex and Will that I cut out of WINDFLOWER part eleven that I might post on its own as an interlude or something.

It’s not consequential to the plot. I just like it too much to leave it on the cutting room floor. I don’t know we’ll see.

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marueonmain · 4 years

Text

Kiss it Better ~ WillNE

Summary: Will fancies the new barista at his regular coffee shop.

Pairing: willne x insecure!reader

Warning: N/A

Word Count: 1.2k

Y/N worked the café counter: baking cookies: brewing coffee: scheming how best to murder her coworker who called in and left her alone for four hours. That particular morning there was not the usual aroma of cinnamon scones hugging the air; instead, there was a light chemical perfume like the beverage cooler was leaking freon.

Y/N should have perhaps been worried about that – she was not. Y/N should have told someone higher up about her suspicion – she did not.

It was near twelve when he walked in.

Some regulars grumbled because Y/N did not recognize them and their usual order, but she recognized him. He visited the café maybe three times since Y/N started but – She. Recognized. Him.

To be fair, he was a sight to see. He was tall – a smidge lanky even – with a jawline that could cut glass. Striking blue eyes shined under manicured eyebrows. He wore a black hoodie with gold script under a light wash jean jacket. And his dark hair struck a nice contrast to his paler skin.

Attractive. To put it in one word. He was attractive.

“Good Morning!” Y/N chirped in her customer-service voice.

“It is. You doing alright?”

“Totally.” Y/N took a permanent marker from the pocket of her apron, then reached under the counter and grabbed a medium-sized paper cup. She scribbled on it. “And it’s…”

“Will.”

A more genuine smile took her lips. “I remember your name. I was just trying to remember your usual order.”

“It’s a medium mocha with one pump of vanilla and one of hazelnut.”

As he spoke, Y/N hurried to finished writing on the cup and placed it on the counter. She looked back up to see Will’s charming eyes searching to connect with her own. It was nerve-wracking to put it lightly. Just another afternoon Y/N was thankful to be stood behind a counter and to have a script.

She asked, “Would you like any chocolate croissants or scones to go with that?”

“Let me see.” Will stepped back, meandering over to the bake case where he scanned the shelves of treats from the bottom up. When he reached the brownies on the top shelf, his eyes flickered over the case to meet Y/N, flashing a smile. “You choose. I trust yous.”

A blush painted itself across Y/N’s face, and she could feel it too – how her face heated up. So, she ducked her head as best she could. Grabbing tongs, she chose a treat from the case. Besides the nervous waver that had come into Y/N’s voice, the transaction continued as usual.

Will paid and was sent to the end of the bar to wait for his drink.

Thinking she had enough experience to know how long it took to steam milk, Y/N pulled at the handle of the pitcher and pulled it out from under the steam wand. But she was wrong and pulled it a little too soon. Seventy-degree milk splashed over the side of the pitcher and onto her hand. Before she could catch herself, she swore under her breath, “Shit.”

“Careful.” Will piped up, having seen part of what happened.

It took an extra second for Y/N to process the words as she jumped to the sink to run cold water over her hand. “It’s fine, just burned myself a little. It happens, what are you going to do you, you know?”

“I hope you’re alright.”

“What do you want?” She chuckled dryly. “To kiss it better?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

Y/N paused, staring at her hand under the water, sure that she did not hear what she thought she heard. Not that it mattered. It was a silly comment – some banter. So why did her tongue become heavy in her mouth? And why did the colour drain from her face?

Without another word, Y/N turned back around and finished making the drink. When she was done, she placed it on the end of the bar in front of Will. It seemed she could not get herself to look straight at him as she squeaked out a polite, “Enjoy.”

“Thank you.” Will said, and right before Y/N could scamper off, he added, “I was wondering if you would want to get drinks with me. Like not coffee drinks. Proper drinks.”

Y/N faced him, now knowing she was being ridiculous. It was a joke. A genuine, relaxed smile stretched across her face, and she rolled her eyes playfully. She laughed. “Oh, right, of course. I’ll clear out my calendar—” Holding out her hands, she mimed writing something down and then circling it. “—hot date tomorrow night.”

It did not receive the reaction she expected. Will’s smile faltered, and for the first time in their interaction, his eyes dropped from her face. Pulling at the sleeves of his sweatshirt, dragging them past where his jacket sleeves ended, he asked in a timid voice, “Why do you say it like that?”

“Well…” her voice also became hesitant, “you’re not serious.”

“It’d be a pretty shit joke to make. Am I that unfunny?”

“No! I just—you’re just—you know.”

“—Will.” That damned smile of his returned.

“Yes, I remember your name.” Y/N, feeling her face heat up again, moved from the end of the bar, taking the used milk pitcher with her to distract her hands. She rinsed it out in the sink.

“It’d make the date a bit awkward if you didn’t.”

“I- I’m not,” she stuttered and stopped. Putting down the milk pitcher, she returned to Will’s gaze and, while wiping her wet hands on her apron, asked, “Are you sure? I’m going to look like this.”

There was not a scenario – Y/N believed – where she would dress up and do her makeup and turn into someone beautiful. She was not that. That was not her.

“I don’t mind the coffee smell, but the apron might look odd,” Will spoke light and cheerful until he clocked the lack of change in Y/N’s face. “If you don’t want to go, I understand.”

“No, I do! I definitely do.”

“Good. You got a queue forming; I won’t hold you up too long.” From his pocket, he pulled out his receipt for the mocha and flipped it over to the blank side. “Could I get your number? We can talk details.”

Y/N took a permanent marker from the pocket of her apron.

~ LATER ~ TWO NEW MESSAGES ~

Unknown: Hi! It’s hot mocha with vanilla and hazelnut!

Unknown: I mean, it’s Will ;)

#willne #will lenney #willne imagine #willne x reader

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marueonmain · 4 years

Text

WINDFLOWER

part eleven ~ wank material and how to get canceled ~

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (part six) (part seven) (part eight) (part nine) (part ten) (part eleven)

A/N: Back at it again. Thank you for 160 followers; do enjoy and take care of yourself! Send a Message/Ask to make my day!

Summary: Alex screws up a lot.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Lots of Language. Implied Domestic Abuse. Heavy Self-Deprecation.

Word Count: 2.9k BLUE TEXT = FLASHBACK

It is a small world. Or at least that is how the saying goes. For example: I happened to have dog-walked for a woman who turns out to be your aunt? Huh, small world.

The world is meant to be small, with everyone just six degrees of separation from one another.

A lot can happen between six degrees – an ice cube melts, a steak is cooked well done instead of medium, a person dies of an unexplained fever.

Sometimes Alex’s world did feel small, constrictingly small like it was caving in on him. But more often than not, it was he who felt small and the world a vast sea – an endless horizon. And he was stranded on a raft in the middle of it. Splashing along with the waves, going wherever the wind wished to take him. Wondering if he would ever be found (if anyone was even searching for him) or if he was destined to drown in the deep dark waters.

Alex shook his head, and he was back in the present moment. Sitting cross-legged on the sofa. Gripping a controller with his clammy hands, playing LEGO Star Wars with George. Although their characters appeared to be working together in perfect sync, Alex was not actually focusing on the screen. His eyes were, but his mind drifted like that raft on the sea, drifted to earlier that morning.

It rained briefly; when the early morning hours came, everything outside smelled of wet, and the scent seeped in through cracks in the sealing around the windows.

Y/N stirred in Alex’s arms, squirmed out of his gentle hold, and sat up. Shining through the glass door of the balcony was the pale blue of the moon illuminating her features – a pastel recolouring which further softened the curves and lines of her face.

Her unadjusted eyes appeared confused at her surroundings as she looked around. Planting her hands flat on the cushion on either side of her lap exposed her bruised forearm. Each circular mark was darker than it had been when she fell asleep. Alex noticed some quarter or half of the beads on her bracelet matched those bruises in colour – he was not sure how to feel about that.

A shy closed-mouth smile took Y/N’s lips as her eyes landed on Alex. If she were concerned about his contemplative somewhat doleful expression, she hid it well. “You’re warm.”

“Yeah?” Alex asked. It was dizzying, swimming in the lovesick haze of such an odd compliment

“Like sleeping on one of those blankets, you have to plug in – softer though.”

“Probably more lippy as well.”

“I think that’s fair,” her words fizzled out with a giggle.

Pupils dilated in the dim lighting; Alex had never more resembled the pleading puppy eyes emoji. High on that feeling, he got whenever Y/N looked deep into the depths of him. Like the last piece of his puzzling life was being set into place. Like it was them. Always meant to be them. Together.

He just wished he dared to speak more.

“Jump! What are you doing?” George burst out, bringing Alex back for a moment.

“Sorry.” He had felt it all over again – how anxious he was to speak; how dead his tongue was in his mouth. As if every moment with Y/N was it for him. His one shot. And if he did not say the right thing or if his voice wavered, then it would be over for him. Finished.

Or maybe he would not have to speak at all, and he would lose his chance before he even opened his mouth. His big mouth – his friends would add, and in truth, so would he.

George cleared his throat and asked, “Did you remember to message Simon about the party?”

“Yeah, yesterday. And Tobi got back to me, said he’s coming.”

“Would’ve been easier to have done a group message for them.”

Sighing a short but exhausted sounding sigh, Alex agreed, “Maybe.”

“And Sammy’s coming?” George looked over for a split-second to see his flatmate nod his head; a tight smile plastered on his face. “Good.”

Another moment of comfortable calm washed over Alex and Y/N when something in Y/N’s gaze pulled back – became hesitant – and moved down to her hands. She picked up a crumpled deliveroo receipt from off the coffee table and began fidgeting with it. “If you—”

Y/N stopped as her phone lit up; the notification was silent, but the light of the screen was visible through the pocket of her jeans. While pulling it out, she unmuted it to an eruption of DING. DING. DING. There were a lot of missed calls and texts, enough that she had to scroll twice up to see them all.

All Alex could read from his spot on the sofa (without wanting to appear as if he was reading over Y/N’s shoulder) was a text message in all caps reading ANSWER ME.

Thumbs hovered above the phone, not typing nor even moving to unlock to the home screen. Her back straightened, and her posture tensed. Eyes not leaving the screen, she said, “It’s Sam. I need to go.”

“That’s all Sammy? It’s a tad overkill, don’t you think?”

“No, he’s just worried.” Y/N took to her feet. Stepping around the coffee table, she beelined to where she left her shoes near the front door. “I don’t—I should have been checking in.”

Alex stood and followed. “Is he that upset? Genuinely?”

She flicked her hand dismissively before using it to pull on her shoes. Keeping her eyes down. “Of course not. It’s just frustrating when he can’t reach me is all.”

“Still…it’s a bit much.”

“And what? You’ve never been frustrated like that with someone?”

“No,” his projection of the word a startling thundercrack in the otherwise civil conversation.

It had not been confidence, though. Not real confidence. Alex had been scared, and he did not like being scared nor admitting to being scared, but he had been. Frightened because he did not know how to handle the situation. Terrified that he might have been losing himself.

Liking Y/N made him nervous; made him protective. And he could not control it.

Y/N looked to him, and he would have to have been blind to not see the bewilderment that came to her eyes at his change in tone. Alex was just so sick and tired of allowing himself and his concerns to be played off. Always feeling like he was screaming to be heard, but no one cared to listen.

He spoke stern and definite, “No. I’ve never been so agitated with someone that I screamed at them for a near hour. It’s not normal. I’ve certainly, never punched through—”

DING. DING. Before he could finish, Y/N dropped her head to her phone.

Alex sighed, exhausted, and asked, “He’s still going, isn’t he?”

“Like I said,” Y/N looked up, and coming back into the conversation as if nothing happened, reasoned in a gentle – borderline condescending – tone, “he’s worried about me.”

“No, he’s not. If he were worried, wouldn’t he have gone looking for you?”

“How do you know he didn’t?”

“Where else would you have gone, but here? Does he let you have other friends?”

Taking a step from him, Y/N shook her head like she could shake herself awake and out of the situation – like it was a dream. She asked, “Where is this coming from?”

“Am I wrong? Red?” he didn’t mean it to come out overly harsh; it had. Alex’s eyes begged for the slightest amount of understanding.

“I think I should go.” Contradicting the sharpness that came into her words were the tears that sprung to her eyes, building up, daring to fall. Y/N pushed right through Alex (not unlike her previous shoulder-check) towards the front door with a sudden heaviness in her steps.

Fuck. Think of something.

She’s leaving think of something.

Say something.

Anything!

“Are you still coming to the party Saturday?” Not that.

Stopping halfway out the door, Y/N whipped around with annoyance and anger burning in her eyes. “You’re serious? Is that all you care about? Padding your guest list?”

“No,” the whispered words fell graceless from his lips, “I care about you.”

“Don’t.” Y/N looked as if she were a second away from spitting in his face. “It was a mistake coming here. You can’t just say whatever shit you want, whenever you want. I’m sorry if you think I’ve been leading you on, but Sam is my boyfriend, alright? I love him.”

That was it. Alex did not know that would be it. He did not even know he was that close to the fucking edge. But he had been. And that? That was it. He wanted so bad to be a safe space for Y/N and to not start an argument or come off as if he were attacking her, but that was it.

“And does he love you?” Alex asked with a cruel scoff.

“Beg pardon?”

“Did he love you when he gave you that?” He pointed to her forearm – the five circular bruises.

“Fuck you, Alex.” Her lip curled into a snarl. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She left. It was 2:01am.

It lingered in his head – the realization he came to when he was stood in the dark staring at his front door too confused to be shocked and too shocked to process the hurt. He lost; he was a loser. It was not a traditional emotion, but Alex felt it burning within even as he sat on the sofa with George.

Idiot. Since their first meeting, Alex dreamed and needed and worked so hard to be with Y/N, and he lost her. Gambled it all and lost. Useless. Weak. His thoughts took on their own intentions. Beginning to feel foreign as if coming from the outside and no longer sounding like him.

Spiraling. Alex was spiraling. He did not – could not – understand how he could ruin everything life ever offered, bin the good opportunities, and fail all the people important to him.

All at once, an intense feeling bubbled up from deep in his gut, perhaps the most classically masculine feeling he ever felt. Alex wanted to fight. Angry. Pained. He wanted nothing more than to scream out his voice and rid himself of the scorching torrent of blood that rushed through him, cauterizing his veins. Alex wanted to fight for Y/N. But he could not do that, could he? Fight. Not physically, at least.

“I need water.” George got up and moved to the kitchen, not knowing that his interruption of Alex’s internal monologue was like him saving the younger from drowning.

A light blush rushed to his cheeks as Alex pulled his head up. He inhaled deep and released it in a controlled exhale. Embarrassed with himself for falling victim to self-deprecation. It had to stop, and it was getting better. Alex just slipped up. He rerouted his focus to think neutral (as positive was a little out of reach), think solutions, think forward.

Life is not a fiction. Not a page-turning romantic thriller nor bafta-nominated melodrama. He was not a leading man. Y/N was not the Eurydice to his Orpheus. Alex was himself. A regular human – he did not have the liberty of being able to go on an epic quest or save the world to prove himself to her.

He could not win back her comfort in him with a grandiose gesture – even if he wanted to. It had to be words. It had to be realistic actions. Sincere. Genuine. And Alex did not care if it would be difficult or if Y/N was difficult to understand, to please, he would keep trying until she told him to stop.

There was no guarantee Y/N would ever again see him as a safe space. Still, he would do his all because…well because he missed her. Alex had never missed someone like he did Y/N.

He missed her more than he would miss his own heart if it lept from his chest. He missed her like they had spent their entire existence together up until that moment. He missed holding her close – brushing his fingers over her soft skin. He missed that blissful moment where he got to wake up with her there.

Most of all, he missed how stable she made him feel. He was more present with her than he had been all his twenty-odd years. When she was with him, Alex lived a lifetime in each individual second.

Y/N made him feel strong for the first time in a long time. He could not always carry himself, but he would always, always be there to carry her.

A minute later, George returned to the room with a water bottle in both hands; without warning, he chucked one towards the sofa. It struck Alex in the chest and landed in his lap before he doubled over.

“Ow!” he shouted into his knees.

Taking a swig from his bottle, the older sighed and asked, “You alright?”

“No!” Alex popped back up and shouted. “You just hit me with a water bottle, you fucking idiot.”

George dropped his then half-full bottle onto the coffee table and took an extra step toward the sofa but remained standing. Looking down on the younger – something George did not have much experience in – he jabbed his index finger into his flatmate’s temple, pushing his head to the side.

“I meant your head.” He repeated, “You alright?”

“Again, George? We’re doing this again? You’ve never checked up on me this much before. Are you alright, Mr. Authoritarian?” Alex stood up and pushed his chin forward, bringing their faces closer and exaggerating the centimetre or four he had over his flatmate in height.

Shrugging both his shoulder, not flustered in the slightest, George said, “I’ve seen you like this before.”

“Like what?”

“After a break-up, you’re fine and good for a few months, but then you get a crush, and you start doing this to yourself. Fixating and—and fanning all these feelings and hyping yourself up to be disappointed. Now with Red—”

“I don’t want to talk about Red.” Alex snapped and moved to step around the coffee table, uncomfortable with the closeness he created. “For fuck sake, my life doesn’t revolve around the woman.”

“I’m not saying that.” George followed him. “Just that with the health advisements and staying inside, maybe you clung onto the first attractive person you saw in reach. Sammy’s not the type you go for – too muscular or whatever – so it’s Red. You should recognize that it’s not real; it’s nothing to do with her as a person; it’s just your pattern.” His prepared sounding speech came to an end as he placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder.

Disgust glazing over his eyes, Alex dropped his shoulder recoiling from the contact like it might burn him. His voice was not gentle, with the sound of his scowl in each syllable, “You really think I’m that pathetic, huh?”

“In a few days or weeks, it’ll go away, all this, and you will feel like a complete idiot for acting like you are.”

“If you know that it’s not going to last, then why are you being such a prick? Why don’t you let me have a little fun in my,” he raised his hands, putting air quotes on his last word, “delusion?”

“Is that what Red is to you? Entertainment?” George looked disappointed. “That’s not fair—”

“No.” Alex refused, folding his arms. “I was repeating what you were saying.”

It went quiet; a pin could drop, and the sound would reverberate like in an echo chamber. Sweat beaded up on both men’s foreheads. Tensions unfamiliar to their apartment seemed to raise the temperature beyond boiling. Alex hated arguing – hated arguing with George. It was not something that happened almost ever until…Y/N.

In the silence, George closed his eyes, squeezed them shut as he dipped his chin to his chest. He blew out a harsh breath before straightening up and again opening his mouth. “If you do not listen to me. If you do not listen to yourself – that logical bit that isn’t wank material and how to get canceled – you are going to do something you regret. People will get hurt. Sorry I’m such a massive prick, but I know you, Alex. I know you and you’ll be fine; you always are. You’ll laugh off this ridiculous crush like you did when you were done daydreaming about Tom Holland twenty-four-seven those two months straight after Homecoming came out. You’ll be fine, but Sammy and Red might not be. I don’t want you starting a fight you’re not able to finish.”

Despite standing still with firm feet, Alex backed off. He could not keep holding on in the intense staredown, and he looked away. Folded arms dropped. There would be no response from him, not to that.

“You not saying anything proves my point.” George finished though he was not triumphant sounding. He spoke like something was blocking his throat, “You know what you’ve been doing is wrong, and you know I’m right.”

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