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blood-mocha-latte · 4 months

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happy post-birthday to the darling lenora @mutantmanifesto!!! i'm late, because of Course i am, but enjoy!! full confession, this is a spin-off of another wip universe, but it is very much Silliness and lots of luz :)))

George is late, because he overslept, because of course he did, because he always inherently knows the worst times of the year to be late.

It’s space day.

“Fuck,” He mutters to his closet, then again to his dresser. All of the drawers are open, and the closet’s door is awry. Giving up on finding it by himself, he pokes his head out of his bedroom door to shout at his roommate. “Joe!” He yells, and when he hears Toye faintly grunt from the living room, he swears again. “Hey, Joe, have you seen my Galileo costume?”

Even though he can barely hear it, Toye’s sigh seems long-suffering.

“Why the hell would I know where your Galileo costume is?” He shouts back, and George throws his hands up in the air, dropping down to his knees to look under his bed again.

“I kind of need it!” He yells. It’s not under the bed. “It’s space day!”

He has half a mind to go root through Joe’s room, but decides he likes life more than Galileo. He still considers it, though.

When he finally emerges from under the bed Toye’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, looking entirely unimpressed. Noticing that he’s very steadfastly not helping, George rolls his hand over in a hurry up gesture.

“C’mon, I still gotta glue on the beard, too.” He says, impatient. Then, after a moment, “Son of a bitch, I bet you dollars to donuts Babe has it. Christ, what kind of man steals another man’s Galileo costume? I bet he has my beard glue, too—”

George interrupts himself, too busy trying to excavate his phone from his back pocket. It takes him under a minute to call Heffron, and Joe just stays in his doorway, watching him, impassive.

The moment the receiver clicks George starts talking. “Do you have my Galileo costume?” He demands, and Babe’s silent for exactly half a second.

“Well, yeah.” He says, like it’s obvious, and George shoves his phone between his ear and shoulder so he can make a throttling gesture. Joe raises an eyebrow. “It’s second-grade space day.”

George throws his hands up in the air. “It’s space day for the fifth graders, too!” He exclaims. Babe huffs.

“Yeah, well, too bad, first dibs—”

“First — what? It’s my costume! I’m the one who bought it!”

“Well, have you ever heard that sharing is caring? That’s a very important thing—”

“Babe, I am going to set you on fire—”

Babe hangs up on him.

George lets his hands drop to his sides and throws his phone onto his bed.

“I’m guessing Babe has it, then.” Joe says, deadpan. George sighs. He’ll probably just have to go with Carl Sagan. Like a schmuck.

“Two favors.” He says, which Joe technically can’t deny him, because George faked pneumonia last week so he didn’t have to go to a career party on a ‘roomate technicality’. “Can I borrow a turtleneck? And can you drive me to work?”

Joe ducks out of his doorway and back into the hall. “I’ll grab my keys.” He says over his shoulder, which George takes as permission to go look through his closet.

It’s not that George can’t drive, it’s that the state of Pennsylvania doesn’t think he can drive.

“I’m just saying, this is why people don’t brake for birds.” Joe tells him, when they’re on the freeway.

George, who’s scrolling through his phone at top speed looking for the best Carl Sagan jokes he can find (because he can’t use the Galileo ones now, can he?) just huffs.

“It looked like it had a broken wing.” He says, as he’s said a million times before. “And I didn’t want to kill it and get all its gross bird guts all over the place. It was the best option.”

“Sure.” Joe says, “but I’m not liable to believe you.” He flicks on the turn signal. George sighs. He’d complain more, but he can’t, because, well. Joe’s the only one who will take him to work.

“Hey, Joe.” He says after a minute, when they’re turning off the freeway. Joe just hums, which George takes as encouragement. “We’re made of stars and shit, you know what I’m Sagan?”

Joe is deathly silent, which isn’t promising. “You know you can say that to a room full of ten-year-olds, right?” He says after a moment. George just slumps further down in the passenger seat.

“I’ll change shit to stuff.” He says petulantly. Then, after a moment, “You should kill Babe for me.”

Joe doesn’t bother replying.

Perconte flashes him a look when he pushes through the doors of the school, five minutes before the bell rings. George just makes a face back.

“Babe took my Galileo costume.” He says, and Perconte snorts, turning on his heel to follow George down to the classroom.

“Hence the turtleneck.” He says dryly, styrofoam cup of coffee in hand. “I didn’t even know you had a turtleneck.”

“I don't.” George says, patting down his pockets for his ID and key. “It’s Joe’s. I think I looked about two seconds away from crying, so he just let me take it. Which, humiliating, but at least I have it now.” Perco snorts.

“They're gonna have no clue who you're dressed as. You realize that, right?”

George opens the door to his classroom and only turns around again to flip off Perconte with his index finger, because he likes his job and doesn't want to lose it.

Perconte just laughs at him.

None of the kids have any clue who Carl Sagan is, but at least 30% of them have heard of Galileo.

George's revenge on Babe will be swift, but brutal.

Babe goes home at 4:30, but George has to stay until six until he gets his license back, because Joe doesn't get off work until 5:45.

So. He has plenty of time for vengeance.

Vengeance, in this case, consists of unlocking Babe’s classroom door (the bastard had taken the costume home with him, because of course he did) and putting tacks on his chair.

George feels vaguely like one of his kids as he comes out of the school, bag slung over his shoulder. The one difference would probably be that Joe doesn’t wait at the door of the school and hold his hand as they walk back to his truck, but that would be weird, so.

“Hey, roomie.” George greets him as he gets into the passenger's seat, shoving his bag somewhere behind him blindly. “How’s the car doctor?”

“The kids are rubbing off on you.” Joe informs him. George waves a hand absently, closing his eyes and letting his head hit the headrest.

“No one knew who Carl Sagan was.” He says. Joe hums.

“Look forward to career day.” He offers, and George turns his cheek against the headrest to raise an eyebrow.

“You remember career day?” He asks, rather surprised, and Joe huffs. He keeps his eyes on the road, and streetlights wash his face in bloody light.

“Well, yeah.” He says dryly. “You made me come in and talk last year.” George turns to face forward again.

“Oh,” He says. He doesn’t remember that. It’s quiet, for a while. George is rather exhausted, even after he overslept, so he’s not really in the mood to ramble.

Joe must not be used to it, because he clears his throat. “I could come in this year, too, if you like.” He says. George’s chest feels warm.

“Yeah.” He says, and turns to watch Joe’s profile some more. “I’d like that.”

Sometimes George thinks there might be something between him and Joe, but he usually just chalks that up to roommate stereotypicality and leaves it at that.

“Thanks, for, you know.” He says, waving his hand vaguely, as Joe locks the door to their apartment behind him. “Letting me borrow your turtleneck. And dropping me off and picking me up at work for, like, the past four weeks. And for coming to the school on career day. And not murdering me in my sleep.”

Joe huffs. It’s as ambivalent as it ever is, but George knows it means laughter. “Yeah, yeah.” He says. “Thanks for paying rent.”

George hums as he falls face first onto the couch. “I still think you should kill Babe.” He says to the cushions. The cushions dip slightly as Joe sits down beside him.

“I’ll consider it.” He says lightly, and George grins against the afghan that had been thrown across the back of the sofa. When he looks up, half of his face still buried in the blanket, Joe’s watching him, eyes dark.

George watches him back. Joe has a nice nose, he thinks, vaguely. And a nice jaw. And nice skin. And a nice voice. And a nice personality.

“Hey, Joe.” He murmurs. Joe raises an eyebrow back, and George shoves his elbows against the cushions of the couch to get closer to him.

“Hi.” He says back, and George wants to smile at the way he says it, which is one of the most ridiculous things he’s ever thought.

Joe’s not very far, is the thing, maybe four or six inches away from George’s own face. He shifts against the couch, getting closer to him, eyes just as dark as ever.

Joe, George thinks belatedly, might be about to kiss him.

George tilts his chin up, slightly, mostly out of instinct, as Joe drops his down to meet him.

George’s phone starts ringing, and he jumps so badly he rolls right off the couch.

Joe leaps back, as well, clearing his throat and shifting to sit on his hands, and George steadfastly doesn’t look at him as he picks up his phone and accepts the call.

“Hey,” Babe Heffrons says, when he does, and, yeah. George is actually going to kill him. “Do you think Joe would be willing to come in for career day, in a couple weeks? Gene can’t and mechanics are interesting.”

“Go fuck yourself.” George tells him, and hangs up on Babe’s insulted spluttering.

He shoves the phone into his pocket and looks back over at Joe, who’s gotten up from the couch and now leans against the back of it. He sees his own thoughts reflected back at him, so he starts walking backwards to his room. “I’m gonna go get ready for bed.” He says, even though it’s 6:30 in the afternoon.

Joe nods. “Yeah,” He says, and throws a thumb over his shoulder, to where the door is. “I’m, uh. Gonna go out drinking with Bill.”

George, who’s still backing up, trips over the corner of the carpet and stumbles. “Yep.” He says, shoots fingerguns at Joe, who gives him a thumbs up in return, and flees to his room.

He shuts the door behind him and leans against it.

Huh.

#rie writes #dslkdjsa sorry this is late lenora there was a minor Emergency lmao #*pushes my modern au luz would be an elementary school teacher propaganda into this remorselessly*#anyways happy birthday!!! birthday's can be hard but at least you're not in middle school. that's my mantra #luztoye #george luz #joe toye #band of brothers #hbo war

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4suitedplayingcard · 2 years

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he is 0 years old

#sheduling this for 12 am so i can celebrate his birthday the second he is born #o and also i used comic sans instead of architects daughter becuz for some reason the ‘™’ is as big as the rest of the other letters #jellystone #jellystone!#hanna barbera #the jetsons #george jetson #huckleberry hound #ace.art #anyways yea happy birthday to this. guy who i dont rlly care abt

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rodeoromeo · 1 year

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I had such a busy day I realized I never got the chance to sit down and make a post about this and I’d wanted to! But honestly- I got into the Beatles deeply very recently, and when I did I instantly fell head over heels for George. he’s likely the reason I was interested in the band at all. the love I have for him and the connection I feel to him and his music has grown very quickly and I find myself emotional sitting here today on his birthday! I truly truly can’t express how much his music and the beauty of who he was as a person has impacted my life in a very short time. I don’t know where I would currently be without him. I’ve been going through some difficult times in my life recently and have felt unmoored and disconnected from the world and reality for a very long time. George and everything he saw and said and stood for and the way he expressed it through his music has reached me in a way that nothing else has truly been able to. to quote him- “you came into my life, you made me more real.” That’s really how I feel about George and I just don’t have an articulate way to express the thanks and euphoria I feel at simply feeling seen and understood and a little less alone in this world. I’m sad that his music has been out there this whole time and I’ve missed so much time with it in my life, but I also think it found me at a time I needed it. and after all, like George felt about meeting new friends, we have always known each other.

#I meant to really be articulate about this earlier in the day but I was caught up in . stuff and also going to the theaters #to see the concert for George #anyways happy birthday George #I know I post a lot of nonsense and joke around a lot and am objectifying and theorizing and having fun #but the truth is I’m so deeply deeply moved on a very personal level #at his music and what it’s done for me and the world #happy 80th George #op #george harrison

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popcultureandroyals · 9 months

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A pic on KP Instagram feed (that was shared on the RF Instagram Stories and will be gone in 24 hours)..... and that's it.

I wasn't expecting anything big, but c'mon!!! This is a milestone birthday of the future king and that's the best they can do?

#don't get me wrong I think the photo is cute and made me emotional #but I can't help feeling a little disappointed #the fanmade posts on social media were better than the official post #anyway #happy birthday prince george #I can't believe our grumpy little baby with chubby cheeks is already TEN

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disneyprincemuke · 4 months

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you’re embarrassing me * ls2

it's never fun feeling like an outsider, so you'd sworn that nobody would ever feel the way you did all those years ago

pairings: logan sargeant x platonic fem!driver

notes: inthaf logan and femdriver live in my mind rent free like i love them and they are absolute best friends, your honour!!!

i might be at work today but you can’t stop me from thinking of logan hunter sargeant

“happy birthday!” logan smiles, extending his arm to you. “sorry i’m late — i had to get benny to wrap your present.”

you look up from your spot at the other end of the table. you smile, putting your phone down. “oh, i was just about to ask you where you were. thanks for even bothering to get me something!”

you hop up from your position and push yourself through the rows of seats that are strewn lazily. “thank you.”

“of course,” logan smiles, wrapping his arms around you. he presses a kiss to your “happy birthday again. thanks for inviting me to dinner.”

“it wouldn’t be complete with you,” you giggle, pulling away.

it wasn’t until you turned back around to the table that you noticed that your friends were staring at you. alex’s jaw is dropped and george looks absolutely gutted. in the corner, lily and carmen are giggling to themselves while lando had his camera up and pointed at you.

“what?” you ask, scoffing slightly at the camera flash that goes off.

alex’s arm comes out to grab george’s shoulder. “she hugged him.”

you raise an eyebrow. “yeah, so?”

“you never let us hug you,” george says slowly, eyebrows furrowed in frustration at you being oblivious. “you damn near killed me the last time i tried to hug you!”

“yeah?” you hum, grabbing logan’s wrist to drag him along with you. “you sit with me.”

“what?” alex scoffs. “i’m sitting next to you.”

“not anymore. i’ve got a new favourite williams driver,” you beam, shaking his seat to get him off the chair. “and anyway, i already told you logan’s sitting next to me. you’d have bullied him all night if i don’t stop you.”

“and i told you first come first serve!”

“who’s the birthday girl? me or you?” you drop logan’s arm and put your hands on your hips. “who?”

alex starts to act flustered, slumping his shoulder and grabbing his cheeks with a smile. “you’re saying i can be birthday girl today? you serious?”

“ah, piss off!” you groan, shaking his seat again. when the thai doesn’t budge, you look over his head. “lily! alex is being an ass again.”

“alex.”

“yeah, okay. fine,” alex sighs in defeat, pushing himself off the seat. he turns to you. “you get a pass today because it’s your birthday. this won’t happen again, bro.”

logan giggles as he takes the seat previously occupied by his teammate. “what dish did you get? do you have a birthday cake?”

“no, we were waiting for you, silly!” you laugh and pick up the menu from the table and lean into him. “we also just arrived not too long ago. because somebody-“

“hey! it’s not my fault the uber cancelled on us!” george screams from your other side, reaching forward to hit you on the shoulder. “it’s not my fault!”

“it is,” alex sighs, shaking his head. he looks at logan. “this idiot forgot to tell us he booked a taxi — i was fresh out of the damn shower!”

“no, it was her fault!” george fights back, pointing at you.

at that point of the argument, you’d already drowned them out while you looked at the menu for something to order. you simply look up and press your lips together. “are we ordering cake?”

“absolutely! it’s a birthday, duh?” alex scoffs. “anyway, let’s take a picture so you can post it on your instagram about how great friends we were to you.”

you stare at alex. “sure. if you say so.”

you turn as lando gets up to ask someone to take a picture. “wait, your hair is messy,” you grumble, instinctively reaching out to fix logan’s hair. “how benny let you leave looking like this, i’ll never know.”

“what?” you hear logan mutter, pulling his head back slightly. “i did my hair. you don’t like it?”

“what?” you go up an octave as you try to laugh it off, retracting your hands. “no, it looks good.”

“but you said-“

“oh, look! lando’s found someone to take a picture,” you point over at the man holding lando’s camera. you dust off logan’s shirt and straighten it slightly. “look good — i’m announcing to the public that i’ve adopted you as my grid kid.”

“he’s turning 23 this year, you know that, right?”

“shut up, alex.”

#logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #fem!driver #f1 female driver #f1 x you #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke inthaf #logan sargeant platonic #disneyprincemuke 3k celly

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russellsppttemplates · 10 days

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hey înes so i think my family forgot about my birthday which is today (just a rushed store bought cake) so can you write something about the grid surprising the reader who is a driver to whichever team you choose 🥹

Note: happy birthday, dear! ✨️I hope you had a lovely day 🥳

"Do you think she'll like it? I got the prettiest cake they had in there", Charles said as he set the box on top of the table.

"Really? That was the nicest one there?", Lewis asked as he looked at the baked good from all angles.

"I could've baked something that looked a little bit better", Pierre offered.

"Could you?", Carlos slapped the French man's back.

"I wouldn't eat anything baked by any of you", Lando chirped in, "where's Oscar? He walked here with me! I've lost him already", he muttered.

"Oscar is the one in charge of bringing Y/N here - Mick said it would be too suspicious if I walked with her", Max offered.

"I also got her the present we agreed on", Lance set the bag next to the cake.

"I'm sure someone did, but just in case - do we have candles?", George butted in.

The groans leaving everyone's mouth was enough to let him know no one did.

"Candles are overrated, anyway", Daniel tried to keep the humour.

"Oscar and Y/N are on their way here - they just stopped to talk to Toto", Mick said as he got inside.

When you walked up with Oscar into the meeting room, you were expecting the stewards to be mad at you, "I think we're late, Oscar!", but you were met instead with cheers and balloons thrown at your face.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Y/N!", they all cheered as you looked at all your friends gathered in the same room.

"We still wanted to make something special between us without the team recording and all of that", your teammate Max said as he showed you the cake, "it's not homemade and we're not sure how good it is, but it's the thought that counts?", he squinted.

"This is amazing, guys, truly", you cooed, "I bet it tastes amazing - even if those colours are not natural on the slightest", you took some of the bright red filling with your finger and licked it.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

#inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader #charles leclerc blurb #max verstappen blurb #daniel ricciardo blurb #lewis hamilton blurb #carlos sainz blurb #mick schumacher blurb #pierre gasly blurb #george russell blurb #lando norris blurb #oscar piastri blurb #lance stroll blurb

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george-weasleys-girl · 2 months

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Second Chance Soulmate Pt.1

Season of Love Event

George Weasley x fem!reader

Warnings: brief mention of sex

Summary: After his failed marriage, George meets someone new.

*I'm cheating a little with this one, blending this week's trope (meeting soulmate after a failed marriage) and next week's (single dad!George)

~•~

When George put that ring on his finger, he thought it'd be forever.

Turns out, he was wrong.

He learned the hard way that not every love lasts forever.

~•~

"Hey, Daddy," said the little girl with the fiery red hair. "Are you going on a date with Miss Y/L/N while I'm at Mummy's this weekend?"

George raised an eyebrow at his precocious daughter. She doesn't miss a thing, that one. "Did Uncle Fred tell you that?"

"Nope! Figured it out all by myself," she said, jutting her chin out proudly.

"Did you, now?" George grinned and pulled her onto his lap. "And how did you manage that?"

"I saw you talking to her a few days ago, and you looked really happy. And then," she pulled a crumpled piece of parchment out of her pocket. "You left your list of restaurants on the table last night."

"Hey! I've been looking for that - " he started, but his daughter continued on as if he'd said nothing. "These are all nice," she said, matter-of-factly. "But I think you should take her to our favorite pizza place."

"Romano's?" George asked, thinking of the little family run place that they went to once a week. "It's not very fancy."

"So? You should take her anyway. If she likes our favorite restaurant, then she's a keeper."

"You think so, Mira?" He appraised his young daughter.

"I know so," she said, then hopped off his lap and skipped off to her bedroom.

He shook his head as he watched her scamper off, then leaned back with a sigh. It'd been years since he'd gone on a date, and it showed. He'd asked Fred for advice. And Ron. And Bill. And Ginny. And now he was seriously considering his seven year old's well-meant, but terribly naive suggestion.

"If all it took was liking the same pizza place," he mummered to himself.

~•~

George met Carlee at Hogwarts. He knew on their very first date that she was the one.

And she was. Until, one day... she wasn't.

The cracks began to form a couple of years into their marriage. Little quirks that once endeared them to each other now irritated them. They argued a little more. And had sex a little less. George wrote it off as both of them having busy, successful careers. Nothing more.

Then their daughter, Mira, was born. And for a while, their relationship thrived. Everything was like it once was.

For a while anyway. Then, it all fell apart.

Looking back, George realized Mira was the glue that held their marriage together for so long. If she hadn't been born, the divorce would've probably happened years earlier.

"I don't know how everything went so wrong," he'd told Fred over a bottle of firewhiskey one night. "Me and Carlee used to be inseparable. Now, we can barely be in the same room together without one of us starting an argument," he took a swig of whiskey. "Hell, I can't even remember the last time we had sex."

Fred shrugged. "Don't know what to tell you, mate," he said with a sigh. "Sometimes, people just fall out of love with each other."

George fiddled with his wedding band. "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm beginning to think it might be best to go our separate ways." He grew quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting out the window. "I just hate the thought of Mira coming from a broken home."

"I'd say it's already broken," Fred pointed out. "And besides, it's better than her living with parents who are at each other's throats all the time."

George sighed. "Yeah... I suppose you're right," he agreed, pouring himself another round.

~•~

Less than six months later, shortly after Mira's fifth birthday, he and Carlee signed the divorce papers.

And it was all over.

The marriage.

The dream.

Everything.

The only good thing to come out of that relationship, George surmised, was currently in her bedroom singing to herself and playing with her legion of stuffies.

~•~

Two Years After the Divorce

"Once Upon A Story," George read the name of the new bookshop that had opened up two doors down from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Its arrival had caused quite the stir. For nearly six centuries, Flourish and Blotts was the only bookstore on Diagon Alley, managing to quickly snuff out any and all competition.

But this bookshop was different. It wasn't trying to compete with the old stalwart. Quite the opposite, actually. It specialized in the one thing that Flourish and Blotts severely lacked.

Children's books.

"C'mon, Daddy!" Mira tugged at his arm. "Let’s go in!"

George chuckled and opened the door, stepping into pure chaos. "Sure you don't want to come back later?" He teased, taking in the roiling hordes of kids.

Mira ignored him and looked around, then grabbed his hand, pulling him through the crowd. "Look, Daddy! It's Uncle Charlie's dragon book!" She held up the book written by George's older brother. Charlie had originally written it to give as Christmas gifts for his nieces and nephews. But Percy was so impressed with it that he passed a copy on to a publisher friend of his. One thing led to another, and it soon became the definitive dragon guide for children in the magical world.

"Can we get one?" She asked.

"You already have the one Uncle Charlie gave you," George grinned. "It's one of the originals, you know."

"I know that," his daughter huffed. "But I can take this one to mummy's. I won't care if it gets lost."

"Alright, then," George grinned, thumbing through the small tome.

"I see someone likes dragons," a melodious voice piped up behind George. He turned around to find himself standing before the sun in human form.

"I -um... " He stammered, but Mira stepped in front of him. "My uncle wrote it."

"Your uncle?" The sunbeam replied, eyebrows raised.

"My brother," George attempted to clarify. "Charlie. He wrote it."

"Really? Well, how exciting!" The sunbeam extended her hand. "I'm Y/N Y/L/N."

"You're the owner!" Mira hopped up and down. "I saw your name on the sign outside!"

"That would be me," Y/N smiled down at the little girl. "And I presume you are... "

"A Weasley," George said proudly. "This is Mira. And I'm George."

"Pleased to meet you both," the bookseller said, then turned her attention to George. "You own the joke shop, right? With your twin brother?"

"Yep. Fred and I- " the younger twin began but was interrupted by his daughter's giggling.

"Are you two going to hold hands all day?" She asked and pointed at their still clasped hands.

"Oh!" Y/N and George said in unison and quickly pulled their hands apart, both looking down to hide the heat rising in their cheeks.

"Do you have any more books about dragons?" Mira plowed on, completely oblivious.

Y/N, relieved for the distraction, turned her full attention back to George's daughter. "A few," she said and leaned down, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But none as good as your uncle's."

~•~

Part Two

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @xmjthewitchx @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @samberriejams @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @mrsgweasley @hufflepuffie @morally-grey-obsessed @fredweasleyyyyy @anvaaryn @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @hmisa11 @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1Lellykins @junerprsh @wolfkill16 @kaysau2510 @qmylovexoxo @planetkt @costheticbabe

@smallsweetvanillabean @hanne-montana @greenapplegrass @el-de-phi @lizzytrees @spididerman @yoursarahg @marvelgirlstories @theimpossible-girl-whowaited @ceehance @Havenater1920 @jelloangela @charmedfandomgal @loca4moony @whotfskai @netflix-addict

@moonatician @lunacurlclaw @sierraluvzz @min-aaa @now-that-we-dontalk @lillisummers @lovesanimals0000

#george weasley #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #weasley twins #the season of love event #season of love event #hp fandom #hp universe #singledad!george weasley

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idontwanttospoiltheparty · 1 year

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HAPPY 80TH BIRTHDAY, GEORGE HARRISON!

“Friends are all souls that we’ve known in other lives. We’re drawn to each other. That’s how I feel about friends. Even if I’ve only known them for a day, it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to wait till I’ve known them two years, because anyway we have met somewhere before, you know.”

#this took my like 7 hours pls clap #dedicated to my favourite george girls Tina and Lee (and Dani if you still lurk sometimes <333333)#george harrison #beatles #beatles edit #the beatles #george #my gifs #fiona.docx

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earl-grey-teacake · 1 month

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Hey, could you write something about your baby Loscar AU, if I remember correctly one headcanon was that George sneaked into Alex's driver's cab to hug Logan as if he were a teddy bear… maybe baby Logan didn't want to stay at Williams for some reason for the Australian GP (🙃) or did he just want to be with George but couldn't, and after the race Alex finds George hugging/sleeping with Logan? (sorry for my English, it's not my first language)

Absolutely! After that race I am racing to write as much fluff as I can!🥰

You're English is perfect! Don't worry, you're doing great!❤️

*******

It felt like he was on autopilot. Toto had pushed debriefs to later, instead choosing to send the team doctor and psychologist to examine him. The last lap had everyone rattled and it was unlikely they would be able to be productive in this state. So George's body took him to the safest place he could think of. The place where his love, his life, was gathered into one room.

He lamented that his child could not spend his time in Mercedes. The garage and hospitality was simply too crowded with staff and VIPs and Logan was so shy, so terrified of new people that George would have been unable to put him down. How could he when his son clung to him so tightly for protection? But now, he wanted needed to see him. He needed to be where it was safe.

The Williams garage was empty, everyone was in the debrief. Making it much easier for him to get in, even though he had never met resistance before. The knock was an empty gesture since he knew he'd be allowed in anyways. The nanny smiled and left upon seeing him, knowing well enough to give him space.

Logan with his cherub-like face and golden hair, was lying on his play mat and perfectly content with the little lion Max had gifted recently. George said no word, instead choosing to watch as Logan waved the lion around. Logan, spotting his father out of the corner of his eye, squealed in delight and reached his arms out to him.

George smiled and in that moment, he felt the ache and weight of the past couple days. Pulling Logan into his arms, the boy wrapped his arms around George and babbled joyfully. Yes, this was where he needed to be. No matter how hopeless he felt, how exhausted and tired and disappointed he was about his failure to provide Mercedes with points, how scared he was today- it all disappeared. Logan didn't care about point, or winning, or constructors championships, he just wants to see his dads. That's all he needs to be happy.

George placed a kiss on the top of Logan's head. "I'm back, Logie. Did you miss me?"

Logan babbled nonsensically in return. George only hugged him tighter, taking in the warmth and the soft smell of baby powder and banana puree.

Alex was exhausted when he came back. He wanted to go home to the UK. They were all staying at his mom's before flying out to Suzuka. He wanted to go home, celebrate his birthday and forget about this whole weekend. He wanted cake, and kisses, and cute photos of Logan with the pets.

Though, he would take the sight before him as compensation for his awful week. Alex quickly pulled out his phone to snap the adorable scene in front of him. George, with all his long, lanky limbs, had managed to squeeze himself within the confines of the play mat. He was curled around Logan, the boy asleep on George's arm. Alex knows he should wake George up, especially with the back pain he could get sleeping in that position, but he let it go. It seemed like they all needed this today.

****

I hope I did your prompt justice!

Please accept this as consolation. This weekend was heartbreaking.

If you would like to send an ask, please feel free to!💕

#logan sargeant #galex #alex albon #george russell #f1 rpf #f1 rpf fic #baby!logan #baby!Loscar AU #please accept this as consolation for this week

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luveline · 24 days

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could we get a glimpse into asf birthdays post-hogwarts? maybe r is having a bad time and isn’t feeling good and she worries that her sadness is ruining fred’s birthday but actually fred would rather spend his birthday in bed with ghost than at any sort of party. no pressure though lovely girl <3

love u!! fem!reader

cw mental health issues

Fred didn’t plan a party for his birthday. He works it out like this; it’s his birthday, and he loves you, and you don’t like parties, so he doesn’t really want one. He wants to spend an important day with his most important girl. He wants to see his family for breakfast, and so you go, and that’s enough of anybody else for a whole day.

“What did you want to do for dinner?” you ask.

“We just had breakfast.”

“I know.” You frown at him in a faux of annoyance. “I’m just asking, so we can prepare.”

“We’re gonna order something. No preparing. A feast. George might come over.”

“If he doesn’t, he should be ashamed of himself.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.”

“Tell him!” You wrap your hand around his wrist for a few seconds. “Don’t tell him.”

You seem a little out of sorts today. Making your very best effort to not let him in on the secret. Too bad for you, Fred knows you now. He knows when you’re depressed, when you’re freaking out, when you’re about to tip into overstimulation. He reckons he has a thirty percent chance of rescuing you, but he can see the guilt already taking shape on you. You’re unhappy, and you’ve never felt as ashamed of it as you do now.

You’re squirming.

“You know what I want for my birthday, lovely girl? You’ll never guess.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to spend the next couple of hours in bed with you.”

You manage a smile, though you’re not in the mood for the innuendo you’d misheard. “I don’t know if…” You list off as he takes your waist into his hands, as he pulls you stomach to stomach and leans back. His hands twine over the small of your back.

“I wanna sleep with your hands in my shirt,” he says. “That’s all, Ghost. Not seducing you.”

“You can seduce me.”

“Maybe I’ll try again later,” he says offhandedly. “Will you come and lie down with me?”

“I know what you’re doing,” you say, letting him pull you as he begins to steer you from the kitchen doorway to the hallway into his room. Your room, just as soon as he asks you to move in. Most of your stuff spots the room, and there have long been drawers emptied for your perusal.

The birthday card you got for him lays open on the nightstand. He guesses every penny you’ve been paid in the last month was spent on his gifts. He doesn’t understand when you’d managed to buy all this stuff, ‘cos you’re always together, but presents and wrapping paper still lay at the end of the bed as proof of your secrecy. It’s impressive and worrying. He likes it better when you have no secrets.

“I’m gonna need a wheelbarrow,” he says.

“Surprised you know what that is.”

“Oh!” he says, pulling the duvet back, and encouraging you down into the mattress with a gentleness that contrasts his snarky tone. “Oh, oh, oh. You’re being mean. That’s cool, I can be mean too. I’ll be so mean.”

He takes his presents from the bed to the dresser and shakes the blanket out, little shards of papers and tape falling onto the floor for later cleaning. You’re watching him silently. You hold out your hands.

“Aw, babe,” he says with a sigh, climbing into bed and on top of you, his face slotting in the space over your shoulder. He closes his eyes to breathe you in. Blind, the smell of your perfume is stronger, sweeter.

“Are you okay?” you ask him.

“I love the way you smell.”

“Freddie.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve never been better in my life.”

You curl your arm behind his back. He has to stress how it feels, the perfect weight on him, the perfect size, everything about you is what he wants and he shouldn’t be surprised at how much he loves you, but it catches him off guard anyways. He really, genuinely, just wants you to be as happy as he is —he wishes he could take your unhappiness and put you on better footing. It must be quite disconcerting to feel sad all the time.

Fred worries it’s scarier than you can handle. The last thing he wants is for it to overwhelm you.

“You smell like heaven,” he mumbles, pressing his nose to your neck.

“Sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry.”

“It’s your birthday.”

“I know,” he murmurs, “you got me all those presents. You gave the cutest wake up kiss anyone’s ever gotten.”

Good morning, you’d said quickly, pressing a soft peck to his lips, your hand on his cheek. Happy Birthday.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you say, nearly breathless.

“Nothing has to be wrong, Ghost. It’s okay if you don’t feel very well.”

“It’s your birthday,” you repeat quietly.

Fred gives you a smattering of soft kisses. “I know, but it doesn’t matter,” he promises, “don’t feel bad. Let’s just have some quiet time. Maybe you’ll feel better tonight.”

“What if I don’t?” you ask.

“I won’t mind.”

You slip your hand up behind his shirt, fingertip trailing over the ridges of his stretch marks. You’re obsessed with them, and you always say the same thing when you feel them, a whisper he can barely hear. “You got too tall too fast,” you say, fingertip higher, hand flattening as you reach the space between his shoulders. “Do you think you’re done growing now?”

Fred has no idea. He tells you as much, the afternoon spent whispering conversation until you turn quiet. For a while you cwtch in quiet, and he gives you a couple of minutes to yourself to make lunch, which he eats and you thank him for but don’t touch. By dinner time, you’re feeling well enough again to sit up. You hold his hands and ask if he wants to watch TV.

It’s a great birthday.

#a special friend universe #fred weasly x reader

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thefrontofmymind · 1 month

Text

Make A Wish (matty healy x fem!reader)

You've been keeping your relationship with Matty secret from your friends. You have a good feeling it'll go the distance.

a/n: me writing??? who'd have thought?? anyway, i was in the mood for something sweet so i whipped this up, enjoy xxx

WC: 790

You always loved the song and dance around your birthday. The fact that you planned this exact party over a month ago, yet still got to act surprised when you came home to a gathering of all your closest friends with plenty of food and drink tickled you. In fact, it didn’t even faze you that Adam texted you just before you left work to ask if you could pick up your cake from the little bakery you loved near your office–even with a ‘pretty, pretty please’ added.

Over dinner, you looked over all the faces of the people who loved you enough to come tonight; old uni friends, a few close coworkers, and Matty and the band.

Matty.

You two acted like friends in front of everyone else, but behind closed doors that was far from the truth. Lingering hands and soft touches, hot breathes and skin sheened with sweat, murmurs of forever and then even after that. You were enjoying the bliss of it, before it could disrupt anything with the group as a whole. Just the two of you.

You caught his eye every so often while you were in separate conversations–just the smallest smirk has he noticed you looking at him instead of devoting your full attention to one of Charli’s stories from an underrage rave she went to with her parents way back when. He could make you giddy like a teenage schoolgirl, and you loved every second of it.

You knew what was next after dinner plates were cleared and George quickly switched off the light above your dining table scattered with half-empty glasses and the odd vape. Cake time.

Matty and Charli were slowly scooting out of your small kitchen–Matty holding the cake and Charli shielding the lit candles from the air with a lighter in hand.

You smiled, watching everyone sing the Happy Birthday song, giggling a little when it got to the point to sing your name and just about everybody came up with a different nickname of yours to say instead. The song ended with a cheer–and not soon enough, the melted wax off the pink candles was dripping closer and closer to the surface of the icing.

“Alright, make a wish!” Matty said as you got ready to blow out the candles.

You thought for a moment.

~~~

Sun was streaming through the cream linen curtains, just enough to wake you from your deep, sunken-into-the-bed, slumber. You let out an involuntary groan as you stretched the tightness from your shoulders.

You could hear footsteps coming down the hallway; not just soft, deliberate steps on the wooden floor, but also a set of small, quick patters coming closer and closer.

“Shh, okay?” You heard a whisper. “We have to be quiet in case Mummy’s still asleep.”

“Okay…” You heard an even softer voice reply.

The bedroom door creaked open. You closed your eyes apart from a tiny sliver. You could see two figures through your lashes–the man you’d grown to love after years of close friendship, and a tiny outline of a toddler with Matty’s same wild, curly hair, a little girl who you could barely keep up with most days.

“Okay, gently shake her,” Matty instructed.

You felt a cold, little hand on your shoulder. “Mummy…wake up! It’s your birthday!” She whispered, only a mere four inches from your face. It took everything in you not to laugh.

You slowly opened your eyes, and with a groggy voice said, “good morning, sweetie.”

“Happy birthday!” She exclaimed–a little too loud for how early it was in the morning, but you understood she was just excited. “We made you breakfast!”

You turned your attention to the plate and mug that Matty was holding; tea just how you like it and avocado toast with enough salt to soak up the sea.

“Thank you, my loves!” You said, gently taking the mug and plate from Matty, placing the cuppa on your nightstand and the plate in your lap on top of your duvet.

“Someone was a big help with mashing the avocado, huh?” Matty asked your daughter.

She nodded shyly, you were glad she didn’t inherit her father’s ego, even when it came to mashing avocado.

The three of you got cosy in yours and Matty’s king-sized bed, and Matty put Mulan on the TV against the far wall–it was your favourite Disney film when you were young and it was quickly becoming your daughter’s as well.

You never thought you could be this happy. This content. You got all you’d ever dreamed of and more, and you got to do it all with the person you loved the most in this world.

~~~

You smiled, blew out your candles, and hoped for the best.

#matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy blurb #matty healy drabble

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ughgoaway · 21 days

Text

you're just a stranger I know everything about.

Content warnings; sadness lol, confrontation, crying, a few Taylor references because I am unbearable, swearing, shouting, and just general angst. (no happy ending either oops)

a/n; day 1 of the matty 35 celebration! and what better way to start it than with some teacher au angst?? I know my birthdays always have an air of melancholy, so I feel like this is appropriate. I fear this is rushed and SO bad, but eh, too late now!! anyway, enjoy! maybe? if you can?

word count; 3.5k ish

(this fic is an extension from the "don't you think of me?" universe, which you can read here.)

✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿

The text sits on your phone. Every time the screen starts to dim, you tap it to keep it illuminated, yet you don't reply. You can't. Every muscle in your body feels frozen except that one finger.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You watched the phone dim, but the name of the contact seemed to stay just as bright, even when the light is as low as it can be, “Matty. DO NOT TEXT.” glows on your screen. The warning was added against your will after a few too many drunk almost-phone calls.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It’s an hour later when the phone dies. You knew it was coming, watching the percentage of charge drop slowly. You got the 15% warning. Then the 5%. But still, you did the same thing until the screen finally went black.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You don't need the phone to be lit up to remember what the message said anyway. You’d read it a thousand times over already. You’d analysed it, broken it down, performed autopsies on every single word, each letter was scorched into your brain.

“Hey y/n, long time no talk.

I hope you got my letter, if you didn't read it, that's okay. You already know everything I said. You always knew me better than I did.

Anyway, I know this is a long shot, but it's my birthday party next week, and I just can't imagine celebrating without you there. All I can think about is my last birthday, me and you in Hawaii. I don't expect it to be like that, but I would love it if you came. Even if you just had one drink, we don't have to talk. You can wave at me across the room and stay far, far away. Treat me like I've got the plague for all I care, but just come, please.

Give an old man his birthday wish?

See you there, maybe. I hope so, anyway.

Matty x”

You want to do the same to the text that you did to his letter, burn it to a crisp. But that doesn't exactly seem feasible, considering your phone was £500, and probably not flammable. plus, you had blisters on your fingers for weeks after the letter, and you dont know if it's worth it again.

But you can't deny that the blisters were oddly comforting. Reminding you what you did every time something brushed your digits, that he was gone, and you had the power. The ball was in your court, and you intended it to stay there.

And it was there for months. But Matty ruined that by sending that message, he got the power back whether he intended to or not. And it was made even worse by him telling Charli, and her endless phone calls begging you to come.

You’re so good at telling her its not going to happpen, and every message that comes in gets a firm “no.” or just gets point-blank ignored. She begs, saying that she needs a friend there and that she'll even let you choose a few songs for George’s DJ playlist. But you stay strong, shaking your head and sighing, insisting you've moved on, that chapter of your life is closed, and you'd like to keep it that way.

So you can't help but wonder how you ended up dressed up on a Saturday night standing outside of Matty’s house, bottle of wine gripped in your shaking hands and the distinct noise of your heels clicking against the pavement as you walk towards the house you've done everything you can to forget.

✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿

As soon as you walk in, you can tell the house is different from how you left it. Obviously, the strobe lights and birthday balloons were new, but even ignoring those, the whole space felt wrong. Even more unforgiving and cold, which was impressive considering every inch was covered with people, dancing and chatting. Still, a lifeless air hung around.

Your eyes darted around, finding the places that you used to occupy. The painting you bought Matty no longer hangs on the wall, replaced by yet another award. You can't help but feel bitter when you see the poster celebrating the album full of songs about you. The spot where your mug used to sit on the counter was empty, but the dark stained ring of coffee remained, forcing you to fight a small smile. maybe he hadn't completely erased you, even if he tried.

People recognise you immediately, and they don't hide their shock well. They might think that they do, smoothly recovering from their initial surprise, but they don't. You see their wide eyes and disbelieving glances, each person acting like you're a ghost haunting the house you once lived in.

You play pretend along with them, smiling as best you can and answering all their questions.

"How's work?"

"How have you been?"

"you seen any good films lately?"

but, you both know you're dancing around the one question they really want to be answered.

why the fuck were you here?

Eventually, the people stop coming, and Charli finds you, plying you with drinks and half-slurred thanks as she begs you to stay for just 5 more minutes. You agree, only because you have yet to catch a glimpse of the birthday boy, and that made everything just bearable.

You quickly regret that decision when you see him not even a minute later, standing by George in the DJ booth smoking a cigarette and laughing in that contagious way he always did. High pitched giggles and his head thrown back.

But he doesn't see you, so it's still okay. You can hang on a few seconds more. Your chest might be tightening with every moment, but you're not suffocating yet.

However, when a tall blonde girl walks over and starts making out with him, it suddenly starts to feel like the room is on fire, and you’re choking on the invisible smoke. The burn of the flames starts to feel all too real when he pulls away from her, though, and his eyes find yours as if they're magnetised together.

The realisation falls over his face immediately, dropping his hand from around her waist and trying desperately to weave through the crowd surrounding him. You don't stay to see if he breaks through the sea of people, already rushing out as fast as you can, forcing your cup into a stranger's hand and moving as fast as your legs can take you.

✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿

“y/n, stop.” You hear Matty’s voice behind you as you storm out his front door, but you don't turn. It sounds muffled, like you're being pulled underwater, and someone is screaming at you to get up. But the waves keep on pulling you deeper, and his voice becomes more faint with every step you take.

Yet, as soon as the cold air fills your lungs and his skin finally touches yours, you're pulled out. You spin around as soon as his fingers graze your shoulder, acting like even his touch is painful as you wrench away.

It was finally here, the time you were dreading. The time when it was just you, him, and everything that remained unsaid.

His eyes held yours as the silence of the night surrounded you, and you couldn't help but study him like you always did. He looked different. Not better or worse, just different. The colourful lights in the house had been hiding his features.

He had more lines on his face, deeper ones on his forehead, but the ones around his mouth had lightened, his smile lines fading. You could still tell even when it was slicked back with heavy gel that more grey streaks danced through his curls.

His eyes were the same, though. Always so telling, so revealing. If you wanted to know exactly what Matty Healy was thinking, look in his eyes. They spoke more than he did. Which sounds absurd if you’d ever had a conversation with him, but you'd bet your life on it.

You almost start to soften at the sight of him, old memories flooding back. Flashes of warm sun and hot kisses, filthy sex followed by soft breakfasts in bed. But then he speaks. Why do men always do that? Just as you're thinking about saying something and trying defusing the situation, they open their stupid mouth.

“Where are you going?” he asks softly, his chest heaving as he desperately sucks in oxygen, his lungs fighting to catch up.

“Home, Matty. I shouldn't have come. I don't even know why you invited me.” You try to spin and walk away, to finally move on. But of course, Matty’s voice drags you back under once again, and the same water fills your lungs.

“stay, please. i dont know why i invited you either, but I did. I didn't expect you to come. I just-” Matty stutters as he speaks as if his brain can't catch up with his mouth, things pour out that he doesn't mean. And he knows it. It's crystal clear as soon as his wide eyes shoot open, processing what he had really just said.

He didn't expect you to come? He put you through all this and didn't think you'd show up? What was the point then? Was it just to hurt you? Did he just want to see if he could? to see if his name popping up would have the same effect it always did, make you come running to him?

Your body moves without thinking, turning to face Matty with fires burning in your eyes, "You didn't think I would come? Then why the fuck did you even invite me, Matty?! to flaunt your new girlfriend? to try and "win" the breakup? Well congratulations, you've fucking won. I'm sure that model hanging off your arm is just perfect for you.” sarcasm drips from your every word, burning Matty like acid rain.

“No! It's not like that. I don't know. I think- I think I was just scared we’d never be in the same place again. That I would love you for the rest of my life, but I’d never see you again.” his voice softens as he speaks, and you almost want to give in, to crumble at his gentle tone and warm eyes. But he can't still love you, it seems impossible when you go back and see the destruction he left behind.

“That's what a breakup is, Matty. And did you ever think about me? About what I want? I can't help but think that maybe that would've been better. If being in the same room as you means feeling like this, I don't ever want to see you again.” You spit back angrily.

Matty's nostrils flare before he speaks, and you can see the anger building inside him. It takes a lot to get Matty to shout, but you can tell with every second you're making him inch closer. And you don't know why that makes you feel so good, but if you're honest, you don't want to know.

You want to keep going, keep pushing. You want him to act like he did that night. You needed to see it again. You needed to know he couldn't ever forget the night you're forced to remember.

“y/n, I don't- I just don't know what to say to you. What do you want from me? Do you want me to say that saying goodbye to you was the hardest thing I've ever had to do? That it ripped my heart out of my chest? That it fucking destroyed me? It did. Of course it did, you always made me feel everything. Losing you was no different.” You heard the way Matty’s voice cracked the more he spoke, but you ignored it. If he wanted to pull the dagger out of your heart, it was his job to deal with the bleeding.

“It didn't feel that hard when you stopped coming home at night. Or when you were fucking screaming at me. Or even that night when you walked out the door, you made it look pretty fucking easy that night. Because that's how it was Matty, you left. So don't come to me bitching and whining that it destroyed you. It's your fault. All of this is your fault.” you feel your voice wavering, but you suck in another breath, refusing to let him see you weaken, to see that wall you built start to break down.

“I deserved a better goodbye, Matty. If the goodbye you gave me hurt, the one I deserved would have fucking killed you.” You poke Matty in the chest harshly, pushing him back on his unsteady feet.

Streetlights flicker above you, the severe light dancing across Matty’s features. As long as you can remember, this light was busted, flicking on and off at will. It used to annoy you, distract you at night when the light poured through the curtains of Matty's bedroom.

Tonight, however, you loved it. No one could hide what they were really feeling under the harsh yellow glow. It seemed to pull every emotion to the surface of your face, illuminating even the darkest parts you wanted to hide.

So it was easy to spot when anger reared its ugly head in Matty. This time, he doesn't push it back. He physically can't.

He needs you to know that it did kill him to say goodbye, and that you can see that. he needs to understand how you can’t you see that he's the shell of the man he once was as he stands here?

“I apologised to you. I know you got my letter. Thanks for the response, by the way, a great way for us to get closure for whatever the fuck this was.” venom drips from every word that falls from his lips, and you have to fight to hide the smirk brewing on your face.

Finally. Finally, he was angry. He was pissed off. This is what you needed. You need the big fight, the final breakdown. Just one more time, you tell yourself, just one more screaming match, and you can move on.

A scoff involuntarily is ripped from your chest, as if you can't believe the utter bullshit coming from the man across from you. “I'm sorry, you think you deserve a response? What would I say in it, “Oh Matty, I'm so sorry! You're so right. Please let me come over so we can fuck all night!!” I know I'm not your usual airhead type, but you have to think more of me than that”

Your voice is high and piercing as you speak, and you know it. It always was when you started to get riled up. However, in this moment, you didn't care. You just needed something to happen, for him to get just as annoyed as you've been for fucking months.

“You don't think I deserved anything, though? Not even an acknowledgement?” his incredulous eyes met yours, begging you to take everything back and say you're sorry too, that it wasn't just his fault, even if he knew that wasn't true.

“Why should I? You never acknowledged my feelings. I don't think you asked me how I felt in the last month of our relationship.” Wet tears start brewing at your lashline. You want to fight them falling. But you can't, your resolve weakening with every second he stands in front of you.

“you know, that night we broke up, I realised something. you hadn't said you loved me in weeks. I said it every morning. But you'd hum back, or nod, or hug me. But you never actually said it.” Matty tries to cut in, and you already know what he wants to say. But you don't let him, powering through his half started words and desperate eyes.

After a few shaky breaths, your words start pouring again, “You treated saying “I love you” just like how you treated saying sorry. Like it would kill you to even think it. You've still never properly apologised for how you treated me, never said it to my face. But when we were together, I found myself saying sorry thousands of times over for feeling anything. I felt guilty for being pissed off at you, like I was doing something wrong. But I had every right to be! You had become a man I didn't even recognise, and for some reason, I still loved you, even when I shouldn't have. But at the time, I didn't see that. All I saw was you hurting. And because all I do is care, I wanted to stay. To stay for you, for us. Our family.”

Seconds pass, but they feel like minutes. The harsh wind blowing between you whistling through the street. Your eyes can't be dragged away from Matty’s, tears falling freely between the two of you.

And suddenly, you don't want him to be angry any more, you don't want this all to happen. You wish you could go back, never come here. But time doesn't work like that, so you’re stuck with tears pouring down your face as you stare at the man you once thought was the love of your life.

“Do you still have feelings for me?” Matty whispers, and you could see the desperation on his face, wet eyes tracing your every feature.

In that moment, he didn't know what he wanted your answer to be.

If you said no, it would kill him. Every ember of hope smouldering inside him would be burnt out, never to be relit.

But if you said yes, he doesn't know if he can let go. If you say you still feel anything for him, he knows he’ll be looking for you in every universe until he finds the one where you stay.

“I won't ever not love you, Matty. No matter how many times I tell myself I've moved on or that my life is better without you in it. I will always love you, and that's fucking agonising.” you sniffle as you speak, and you almost want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. How did you go from screaming at each other to professing your everlasting love?

Matty wants nothing more in that moment than to start begging you to come back, telling you how you can make it work, to talk about what he would do to get you back. But he knows he shouldn't, so he doesn't.

“Annie still thinks about you all the time you know,” Matty says, and your chest hurts from the whiplash of this conversation, jumping between memories of your old life so fast its almost unbearable. But you knew Matty. He needed to jump around to stay sane, so you jumped with him.

“I know, I remember you saying in the letter that she stopped asking when I was coming back. Is that true?” your voice drops again, as if you were sharing secrets at a sleepover.

“I thought it would be easier when she stopped asking, maybe then I'd not spend every waking hour thinking of you. But when the day came, it wasn't easier. It was like watching you leave right in front of me all over again. It brought me back to walking into the house for the first time after you left, looking at the empty space and trying to figure out how to fill it. Annie was filling it by asking about you, but suddenly she wasn't, and that glaring hole in my life was back." Matty's voice breaks as he speaks, but he clears his throat and tries to ignore it.

"I realised then that I'll never not think about you. Even if no one talks about you. Even if I never see you again, I'll still think of you.” Matty sucks in a shaky breath as soon as the words stop pouring out of him. His lungs seemed like they were sticking together with every word he said, and it felt like death. But he couldn't stop the rush of words, so he let the death surround him.

“Tell her I said hi” you reply meekly, not sure what to say in response to Matty’s outpour.

“I won't” matty says, forcing a half smile and chuckle that you half-heartedly return.

Once again, the blanket of silence surrounds the two of you, enveloping you in a way that feels all too familiar. So you break it, not letting yourself fall back into old patterns.

"i just dont understand how it all happened so quickly. how did you go from a stranger to the love of my life, only then to become someone I wish was a stranger all over again?" You whisper, your shaking hands coming to cup Matty's wet cheeks as you step closer. His hands wrap around your waist instantly, pulling you in and holding you so tight it almost hurts.

Silence hangs between the two of you. But its no longer painful or awkward, stilted or angry. It was a silence of acceptance, an acknowledgement that this had to be the final goodbye. There was no erasing the past, the demons that followed the two of you couldn't be ignored. So you were done, this was it.

Eventually, you pull away, and your face hovers in front of Matty’s for a few beats too long. You want to give him a final kiss, a proper goodbye. and you swear you can almost feel his lips against yours, taste the salty tears that would fall from your eyes. You don't, though. Your hands drop from his wet cheeks, and you walk away.

Every fibre inside you wants to turn around and go back to him. It feels impossible to face the future with the person you planned to spend it with standing 10 steps behind. But you do, moving forward and trying not to mourn the life you know you can never get back.

#starting off the celebration strong #by bringing the mood down #my fav activity #sorry if this is bad! angst is fun but HARD #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #matty healy angst #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 angst #teacher au!#Matty35

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