let's crack on.

~requests semi-open~

[marueonmain]

is windflower gone 5ever? :,/

WINDFLOWER lives only in our hearts now…

But seriously, I took it down as I’m focusing on other original writing projects going forward. Thank you to everyone who read it while it was here. If I get the itch to write a WillNE or James Marriott one-shot, then I may be back for that, but that’s all for now :))

I appreciate all of you 💛

[marueonmain]

Just to be clear...

Alex and all abusers should rot.

[marueonmain]

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.

[marueonmain]

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

[marueonmain]

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.”

[marueonmain]

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.

[marueonmain]

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.

[marueonmain]

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!

[marueonmain]

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.

[marueonmain]

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.

[marueonmain]

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)

[marueonmain]

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 ;)

[marueonmain]

Bottom Line ~ Memeulous

Summary: George is concerned about Y/N’s well-being but does not know how to approach or handle the situation. 

Pairing: memeulous x reader

Warning: !!DO NOT IGNORE!! MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING - EATING DISORDER(S)

Word Count: 1.2k

Whether or not youtubers are classified as celebrities, four million people is still a lot of people. It is about five times the seating capacity of all Premier League stadiums combined.

Naturally, there was overlap between George’s four million followers and the one and a half million people who viewed Alex’s video on instagram fitness influencer Ashley Nocera. It was an entertaining video with an interesting segment where the flatmates weighed themselves on camera.

“I think George—I think we’re legally dead.”

It was a joke, of course, to which the younger laughed, and the older argued. Both men were fine weight-wise: just on the lighter side of what would be a ‘normal’ weight range for their height and sex.

While it was fun for George to angrily defend himself whenever he was called small or to push the ironic narrative of being massive, it was not in truth something he cared about. As long as he had skin to keep his organs in and bones to hold the skin up, that was all that mattered to him.

It was Alex who first pointed out that his girlfriend might not see it the same. George was not observant, but following that conversation, he tried a little harder, and he noticed some things.  

Y/N bought two new identical shirts – seemingly the same fit and size as ones she already had just in different colours – but these did not fit her. She also twice blew up at him for changing dinner plans as if it were his fault the restaurant was closed or too busy to seat them.

“Are you not dressed? We got to go.” Y/N chirped, fiddling with putting her earring in as she emerged from the ensuite into the bedroom.

“You’re not eating as much as you should.” And there it was out in the open. George did not have time to even think how best to approach the topic before his concern overrode his rationale and took control of his mouth – spilling the words out messily.

Y/N shrugged, “Yeah.”

“Well…isn't that like…a problem?”

“Maybe, but I’m not going to deal with that right now.” She finished with her earring and crossed the room to her small shoe collection. “If we don’t leave soon, we’re going to be late.”

“We’re not leaving Y/N. We need to at least talk about it.”

“Now?” A frustrated sigh rumbled through her throat. She threw her hands up in mock surrender and resigned, “Fine. What do you want to say?”

“You know we were together all Saturday and Sunday, and I never saw you eat more than a bowl of cereal and a banana.”

Y/N scoffed, shaking her head she asked, “Is that it? What you’re worried about? You know I don’t eat a lot. Never have. Besides, we ordered in pizza Sunday night, remember?”

“You had two slices!” George spoke sharp and loud before pulling himself back down. “I just—I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me. Even if you think it doesn’t matter or it doesn’t make sense, you can tell me. I haven’t been where you are, and I’m not sure what we’re meant to do from here, but I’m all in for you.”

“We do nothing. I’m fine; I’ve been dealing with this for years.”

“By ‘this,’ you mean your eating disorder.” He did not know how she could be so casual about something so serious.

“I can handle myself.”

“Obviously not. You don’t think I’ve noticed how you started having to wear a belt with all your jeans else they fall right off you? Or how you always change clothes in the other room?”

“Fuck off.” Y/N snapped; the blinds of offhand indifference were ripped down to reveal the blinding light of an angry sun. “Look at you, George. Look at your friends! Attractive, successful social media influencers. I’m not dumb. Ok? I know the type of women who get with guys like you – they’re graceful, camera-ready goddesses. They’re not fat.”

The last word broke off in her mouth and shattered against the floor. Tears sprung to her eyes, and she was quick to turn from George and wipe them with the back of her hand. All the while, her set jaw, and tense muscles worked to maintain her previous unfalteringly stern expression.

All George could muster amidst his bewilderment was a meek, “You’re not fat.”

“I know. Why do you think that is?”

“You don’t understand. You’re noticeably thinner. It’s enough that people are asking me if you’re alright. A quarter of the comments on the last video you were in are accusing me of like forcing diet pills down your throat or other bullshit. Even Will and Alex and them have brought it up.”

“Oh, I see.” Y/N barked out a short, humorless laugh. “So, this isn’t even about me. It’s about you. How you look to your friends. Got it.”

“They’re our friends, and they’re worried about you; I’m worried about you.”

“Well, I’m not going to change. Alright? Bottom line. I know what I’m doing. I know my body and what works for me and what makes me feel good about myself. There’s nothing you can say that’s going to change my mind now, so let’s just leave it. Forget about it and go. We’re already late.”

It took another few moments for either to speak as it seemed the subject was dropped altogether. Y/N collected her keys and wallet up in her hands while George changed his shirt. And both moved to leave.

The solemn silence between them broke just as Y/N locked the door behind them.

“I’m breaking up with you,” George said.

His hard-hitting gaze coaxed a temporary softness from Y/N. Her shoulders relaxed, even turning inward, a hesitant smile on her lips as she searched his face for the joke. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m serious. If you refuse to get better, to even try, then I’m not going to be there while you make yourself worse.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Sure, I do. Bye, Y/N.” George took a step backwards, before turning around completely and walking up the hall toward the stairwell. He did not even want to share a ride down in the lift with her.

And Y/N did not call after him like in a romantic comedy, nor did she follow him with an intense desire to proclaim a new outlook, a changed perspective on the situation. Her feet remained planted, and her mouth shut. She did not see it for the ultimatum it was – at least not at first.

Y/N: alright, I get it, v dramatic. You made your point Y/N: this is so stupid! Y/N: don’t be a dick. text me back. Y/N: you’re serious? All this over what 3kgs??? Y/N: Fuck you!! I don’t care I’ll go out by myself!

Y/N: answer the phone. Coward. Y/N: must be hard to ghost me on every platform

Y/N: ok I get it Y/N: isn’t 72hours a fair punishment? come by so we can make up.

Y/N: answer the phone. Y/N: George, I get it. I’m not alright Y/N: I’m sorry, Answer the phone, and we can talk, please!

Y/N: I need help Y/N: I’ve made an appointment with a psychiatrist. Y/N: she specializes in eating disorders.

George: When’s the appointment?

Y/N: Thursday @ 11

George: I’ll be at yours with the uber at 10. I’m sorry too.

Eating Disorder Helplines UK: 0808 801 0677 USA: 800.931.2237 Canada: 1-866-NEDIC-20 

[marueonmain]

Hate Me ~ ImAllexx (2/2)

(part one) (part two)

Summary: Alex knows.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: N/A

Word Count: 900

Y/N ended the call with a lot more hope for her situation than she had ten minutes earlier. She knew she could count on Will and his northern charm to calm her nerves – most of them at least. There was still a small nagging voice in her head that told her she had to find another way out.

Tired of being trapped in a car with herself and her thoughts, Y/N reached into her jacket pocket for her wallet to see if she still had a coupon for twenty percent off that new restaurant Alex and she liked. She could pretend she went and got food after going to the shops and not finding what she needed.

Her fingers grazed the inside fabric of her pocket and nothing else: she did not have her wallet. It had been over ten minutes since she left, how would she explain not having it? Y/N groaned a frustrated groan as she got out of her car.

“Alex! I forgot—!” she called louder than she had to and stopped short when she realized there was no one in the kitchen. “Alex? You here?”

There was no response. Y/N spotted her wallet on the coffee table right in front of where she was sitting before she left – of course. Rolling her eyes at herself, she snatched the wallet up and pushed it deep into her pocket. Right as she reached out for the handle, the front door swung open. Y/N jumped back to avoid getting bashed in the face with the wood.

“Oh!” she exclaimed.

Their eyes clicked. Alex’s mouth stretched into an open-mouth, fang-displaying smile. Despite having been awake for twenty-four hours, there was not an ounce of exhaustion in him as he beamed bright like sunshine.

Y/N was taken aback; sometimes, she forgot how beautiful Alex was and how loved he made her feel. Especially when he looked at her like that – like she herself gifted him with sight.

He bounded into her hard enough to knock her over if he was not wrapping his arms around her and holding her to him. It took a split-second, but Y/N brought her arms around him as well.

“Where did you go?” she asked.

“I was so worried. I ran downstairs, but you weren’t there. I thought I was too late; I thought I missed you entirely.”

Stepping out of the constricting embrace, Y/N gave him a curious look. She fished her wallet from her jacket pocket and held it up between them. “I got all the way to the shops before I realized I forgot it. Can you believe that?”

Alex ignored the question.

An uncomfortable chuckle slipped from Y/N’s lips. Returning the wallet to her pocket, she side-stepped around Alex toward the door. “I’ll be back.”

“Don’t go.” It was almost a whisper.

“To the shops?”

“You know I love you, right?” Alex turned to face her, and while his eyes came up to hers, there was no focus in them. He was doing his best, but he was holding back; he was scared.

When Alex’s hand grabbed her nearest Y/N allowed it but did not reciprocate the gesture. She gave him a reserved smile and nodded. “Of course. I love you too.”

Y/N moved again for the door. She tugged her hand, and Alex did not let go. He fell a step closer, and focus came to his gaze. Their eyes met again, and it was not overly fulfilling, nor was it a poetic moment, but it felt raw and real.

“No, no.” Alex shook his head shallowly, dropping his chin to his chest and pleading, “I need—can you please just say it? Please. I need to hear it.”

“Hear what?”

“That you know.” He let go of her hand, willing to let her leave if she wanted. 

Bringing her warm hands to the clear skin of his cheeks, Y/N lifted his head. “Alex. I know you love me. Ok? I know.”

“Then, don’t go.” His own hands came up and held Y/N’s arms near the elbows.

“Ok,” she laughed a bit on her words and smiled. “I won’t.”

“No, I mean, don’t leave me. Don’t leave for the long weekend.”

Her hands fell from his cheeks down to her sides. She heard what he said and knew what he meant, but she had to – had to – confirm it even if the crawl of the words from her mouth was like vomiting razor blades. “You know?”

Alex nodded.

It was all happening; It was too much, and before she knew it, tears were wetting her cheeks for the second time that morning. She tried the one thing she could think to do, even if it did not make a lot of sense, and apologized, “I’m sorry.”

Gathering Y/N up in his arms again, Alex cooed, “No, don’t cry.”

“I thought you’d be angry.”

“Never.” His pink lips rushed to meet Y/N’s in a loving yet quick exchange. “I want this. I want you. Us.”

Alex and Y/N remained there like that, locked in an embrace that spoke volumes while around them, it was quiet – save for a few happy tears and soft sniffles.

[marueonmain]

Hate Me ~ ImAllexx (1/2)

(part one) (part two)

Summary: Y/N is troubled, but she chooses not to go to her boyfriend, Alex, for advice, instead she goes to Will.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: N/A

Word Count: 1.5k

It might have been an unusual sight to see.

Alex in the kitchen, frying bacon for a sandwich at ten in the morning and jogging back to his bedroom every few minutes to check on how a video was rendering.

It might have been unusual if Y/N did not know it was only like that because her boyfriend had not gone to bed the night before.

Neither the delicious smell wafting into the air nor the sound of Alex’s lovely mumbled singing of sunflower could lighten Y/N’s strained expression. She looked like she would be sick if given a sink and the opportunity. Uncurling her legs, Y/N stood from her place on the sofa and walked toward the door; the metal of the handle felt abnormally cool against the burning skin of her hand.

“I’m going out for a bit, be back later!”

“Where are you going?” Alex asked over the sound of sizzling and the fan.

Y/N stopped. Fingers anxiously tapped against the wood of where she held the door open. “I need to pick up more bin bags.”

“Ok, love you.”

“Uh-hmm.” She nodded and scampered out the door into the hall. Practically vibrating with nerves, Y/N opted to take the stairs down as she left the building. 

She jogged the last little bit to her car. Crashing into the driver's seat, she pulled out her phone and read over her most recent text conversation:

Y/N: you free?

Will: depends what for

Y/N: quick facetime like ten minutes tops

Y/N: I promise!!

Will: *thumbs up emoji*

Y/N sat through two rings before Will picked up. He had taken the call from his computer. His chair was pulled up enough to his desk that he seemed oddly close to the camera. He wore a black t-shirt with large armholes and writing around the collar. Bags under his eyes almost dark enough to match his quiff.

“You alright?” the words were bogged down with tired.

“Hi, Will.” Y/N exhaled a short dramatic breath. “I want to talk to you about something because I trust you to be honest with me and to not tell anyone.”

Will’s eyes widened under raised eyebrows before he chuckled and commented in a sarcastic tone familiar to his voice, “What a way to start a conversation.”

“I rehearsed it in the mirror.”

“Sounds like it.” He leaned forward. “Where are you?”

“In my car, I couldn’t risk Alex hearing.”

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. I just—” the last word turned into a mix between a squeak and a mewl. Y/N moved to set her phone up on her dash, freeing her hands to wipe at her wet cheeks, and started again. “Sorry, I don’t mean to cry.”

“What’s going on?” His eyebrows came together.

“Alex and I have been going together for a while now, and you’re one of his best mates. There’s something I need to tell him, but I really don’t want to. He’s going to be mad…I think he’s going to be mad.”

“You’re waffling.”

Y/N brought her hands together to fiddle with her fingers. “Sorry.”

“Alex doesn’t get mad a lot – not actually – outside of gags and stuff.”

Y/N was doing her best to listen to her friend. It was what she called him to do: listen. It was just so difficult to get herself out from under the hydraulic press that was her own fears. “But—”

“He loves you, whatever it is, that’s not going to change.”

“I’m ruining his life,” each syllable she spoke was more incomprehensible than the last as she forced them through the tears. “He’s going to hate me.”

Will leaned back in his chair and muttered, “Jesus.”

From a chair pulled up beside him but far enough to be out of sight of the camera, Alex sat watching the unfolding situation. Seeing Y/N in distress and knowing he could not be there for her felt like a pinprick to his balloon heart.

When Will texted him a screenshot of the conversation – between him and Y/N – Alex was confused. Now – after sprinting up the stairs to Will’s flat, the second Y/N left so that he could sit in on this new conversation – Alex was even more confused. He whispered to Will, “Ask her what she means.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Will’s voice remained quiet, and he ducked his head a second so that Y/N would not see his lips moving. He brushed his hand across his nose before looking back to his monitor.  “What do you mean? What did you do?”

“It just happened; I didn’t mean it to.”

Alex’s nose flared, and his hands which had been resting on his knees clenched, balling up the fabric of his shorts. He muttered a quiet, “No. Not you, Y/N.”

Will did his best to manage the two volatile people and their wildly different emotions. He lifted his one hand and pumped it in a repeated calm down gesture to which Alex closed his eyes.

On the other front, Will put on a stern voice that somehow also gushed with compassion and care. ”If there’s someone else, you can’t keep that to yourself; it’ll end up eating you from the inside-out. And it’s not fair to Alex.”

Y/N hiccuped. “No, no, it’s not that.”

“It’s not?”

“Of course not, Will,” she sounded annoyed.

Alex lifted his head and opened his eyes. As his features relaxed, it was not into an expression of relief so much as it was into one of confusion.

Y/N continued, “I love Alex, a disgusting amount, really. No, it’s...I’m pregnant.”

Will turned in his chair, facing Alex almost head-on. Their wide eyes met, and there was nothing but shock in the younger’s paling face.

Alex stood up. Shoving his fists through his hair and holding them there, he began to pace, his steps small and large, quick and slow with no pattern.

“That’s,” Will stuttered out, “t-that’s great.”

“No, it’s not. Alex didn’t sign up for this.”

“It’s not a business contract, I assume he knew what you both were doing.”

“We’re busy all the time; he’s got all these projects; I was working on some new merch designs and—and there’s just no time. Alex deserves to do everything he’s got planned. He deserves a life. He’s young, he wouldn't want this. Not now. He couldn’t.”

“You’re talking like he’s a teenager or something. Alex is a grown man.”

Y/N sighed exasperatedly. “Will. I—”

“No.” He snapped hard. Enough that it stopped both Y/N and Alex in their tracks. “It’s time to listen. You won’t know what he wants until you ask him—until you tell him. You have to.”

Wiping the last of the wet from her cheeks off on the sleeve of her jacket, Y/N found she could not look at her phone; she looked to the passenger seat, outside the windscreen, anywhere but where she knew her friend was waiting.

Eventually, Y/N spoke up in a meek voice, scared to even admit she was the one who thought to speak the words, “You and I both know there’s a version of this where Alex doesn’t have to find out.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. I could ‘’go to my parents’’ for the long weekend and be back without…without the problem.”

Flickering his focus up over the monitor, Will again met eyes with Alex. An all-around heaviness dragged down the younger’s features. His eyes lost some of their shine as it seemed his consciousness drew further from his physical world and more into himself.

Will cleared his throat. “Could you really do that? To Alex’s kid?”

“Yes.” Y/N sounded the surest she had the entire conversation. “I’m not looking for a morality check. Not from you. I just need to know, would you support me? If that’s what I decided?”

“I don’t think you should decide now.”

Alex left; he stormed from the room, slamming the door to Will’s bedroom. For having shorter legs, he could really run.

“What was that?” asked Y/N.

“Gee just got home. Look, I got to go, but let me finish up here. I really think Alex will surprise you. He’s a smart lad, and he loves you. You know?”

“Not this much.”

“Yes, he does. Now don’t wait any longer. Go tell him.”

“I’ll think about it.” She smiled genuinely, “Thank you.”

“Bye, be safe.”

[marueonmain]

My Glow Up ~ ImAllexx

Summary: Alex lets hate comments get to him; he questions himself and his relationship with Y/N.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: N/A

Word Count: 1k

TikTok - ImAllexx · 2019-11-5 “my glow up after you lot destroy my self-esteem and drive me back into a dark, crippling depression in which I can’t escape for 6 months #fyp.”

It had been months and months since he first posted that tiktok, but he still pulled it up from time-to-time. Sometimes to have a good-natured laugh at himself. Other times to cringe in embarrassment as a subconscious punishment. However, there were times when Alex watched it, and all it brought was numbness.

Maybe a little pain. Because it had happened again.

There was never a need for Alex to stare in the mirror, catalogue himself, and further damage his self-confidence. Not when the internet did that for him.

He had gotten rid of his ‘back to nothing’ hat, but there were still other things Alex did to hide his body and himself from the criticism – like wear his infamous pink cap or his tiktok bucket hat. He even wore hoodies on top of each other in a couple of instagram live sessions and a video on George’s channel, to hide everything he thought was wrong with him.

There was no winning. Everything visible to the camera was fair game for hate. Every day there were comments across all social platforms attacking his physical appearance: the sharpness of his teeth and adam’s apple, the width of his shoulders, his nipple placement – that was a new one. 

Or, at least, it was new to Alex as he had never seen a rude comment about his nipple placement before.

Alex sat on the sofa too preoccupied with thinking about his nipples and that it was not healthy to be thinking so much about his nipples and how he should not be thinking about his nipples and how that made him think about his nipples more, to notice when Y/N entered the living room.

Y/N did not like seeing her boyfriend so silent. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he sighed. “I’m done is all.”

“Done with what?”

“Trying. I want to make a few jokes in a video – hey look at this strange family channel, they exploit their kids, isn’t that interesting? – but that’s not what viewers care about. Too distracted, I guess. Wondering why I have followers, why I have stans, who in their right mind could ever want to look at me. ‘Attractive but in a weird way’ that’s it for me, isn’t it? Always the “but” in the middle.”

“You can’t let hate comments get to you.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Stop it.” Y/N blew out a sharp breath, unjustly frustrated with herself for not having all the right words already on the tip of her tongue. “Viewers watch you but they don’t see you. Let alone know you. Like your friends do, like your family does. Like I do.”

Alex leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees and head in his hands. A cross between an irritated groan and annoyed shout tore through him.

“What are you—?”

“So, you have to already be connected to me in some way to not think I’m some sort of rat person.”

“That’s not what I said. Don’t get it twisted.”

There were tons of things that Alex hated, and that Y/N knew he hated (youtubers thinking they are celebrities, drama alert, drinking bathwater jokes), but none more so than starting over. He was not a perfectionist; he never claimed to be. Still, he was someone who he felt was continually starting over.

Some nights, when both he and Y/N lie awake in bed, he found the courage to open up and ask, ‘What’s the point? If I always fall again; I always end up back here?” Each time Y/N tried her best to give the healthiest advice, speak encouraging words, and to support him, but it could be difficult.

It was a relativity issue. With each stumble Alex took, he thought the starting line consistently looked the same; it did not change, and he was correct. Because it was, in fact, the position of the finish line which was moving: closer and closer.

And just like the last time, Alex would come out of his rut. He only needed an extra push.

“Give me your hand.” Y/N kneeled down on the soft rug and took Alex’s hand. Uncurling the fingers, she placed his palm right under her collarbone and used her hand to hold it there. Applying firm pressure. “I’m real. I’m an opinion that matters, not that of a snot-nosed twelve-year-old on their iPad. Alright?”

Alex nodded.

“It’s me – I’m the one that’s here,” she concluded, searching his sky-blue eyes for recognition.

“You’re here because you’re nice.” Alex did not attempt to pull his hand back. Dropping his head, definitely his gaze, he continued, “You’re stuck by like social convention or whatever to not abandon a person with depression even if they weigh you down.”

“Alex, you know me. I’m a bitch. Straight-up. I don’t care about social convention. If I thought we weren’t working out – you weren’t attractive and kind – and my biggest motivator – I would leave. Pack up and go with virtually no consequences to me. But I’m not going to do that. Because you have a sweet soul and a generous heart. You pick me up when I can’t stand on my own, and when I can, you are right there cheering me on – being my biggest fan. And yes. It helps that you are so handsome it hurts.”

Smiling a wide and toothy smile, Alex brought himself a step up from the crippling abyss of his own thoughts and back to earth – to his wonderful girlfriend and that sense of peace that came when their eyes clicked. He let his hand be guided from the cool skin of her collarbone up to her face.

“I’m here. I’m real. And I really love you.” Y/N held Alex’s hand to cradle her cheek, leaning into it.

He giggled. “You made it cheesy.”

Y/N grumbled, putting on a comically exaggerated pout.

“Come here.” Alex pulled her to her feet and then into his lap. Holding on tight and with a kiss to her neck, he whispered, “I love you.”

“I know.” Y/N sighed contented, able to spend another afternoon on the sofa, cuddling her attractive boyfriend. Attractive. Full stop. No “buts” involved.

Except maybe a pinch to his later on.

[marueonmain]

GOD YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD!!!

THANK YOU 💞💞😭