fastandtheformula1

bf!franco who will never let you touch a door handle. ever. he will literally look at you like you insulted his entire bloodline if you reach for anything remotely close to a handle.

bf!franco who will ask you permission for everything. not in a child like way, but more in a ‘checking if this will upset you’ way. and also because he’s a little scared of your reaction if he doesn’t tell you.

“amor im gonna go out for a bit but I’ll be back soon, yeah?”

“okay, babe. have fun.”

“it’ll take an hour at most.”

“I- okay?”

“I’ll be back soon, I love you!”

bf!franco who is very quiet and respectful in public but a menace otherwise. he’s three times now tried to sway you from going out to girls night.

“baby it’s just dinner I’ll be back in a few hours, okay? I’ll think you’ll survive.”

“nooo amorcita. stayyy.”

“franco, let me gooo.”

if you’re adamant, he will resort to drastic measures: getting on his knees and begging in spanish.

that usually works.

bf!franco who will tease you when your friends are almost out of earshot, slightly hoping they’ll hear what he says.

“franco, seriously,” you smile. “stop it.”

“really mamí? last night it was ‘don’t stop baby,’ and ‘franco please, harder-”

“OH MY GOD STOP TALKING. FOREVER.”

bf!franco who will talk about you in interviews but never drop your name. always says ‘my girlfriend’ this and ‘my girl’ that. everyone has a suspicion to who you are, but never totally pinpoint you.

bf!franco that loves to surprise you with small gifts. flowers, cards, anything to say he’s thinking about you.

thank you for my tulips and note they’re gorgeous xx

just like you amor :) miss you baby

miss you more 💕 also you don’t have to send them next time, you can just text me that you love me you know

no ❤️

bf!franco that turns to mush once your hands are in his hair. or anywhere else on him for that matter. he’ll rant and then go in for a hug, your hands finding their way to his locks and he slowly stops talking.

bf!franco that used the phrase ‘I love you’ as his reason for everything.

“I brought medicine, tissues and that magazine you always bring home.”

“hold on. you drove two hours to give me stuff I could’ve gotten in ten minutes?”

“i love you don’t i?”

“that’s not-”

bf!franco who will stare at you when you’re trying to focus. he just likes to see you so dedicated to whatever it is you’re working on. when you slightly look over at him with an amused smile he turns his head in the opposite direction just so he doesn’t break your focus.

bf!franco who loves hearing you call him by his last name. something about the way you say it makes his knees buckle and mind go blank.

“colapinto, did you take my keys?”

“aye… cómo?”

“my keys? do you know where they are?”

“ehm, i don’t, i-”

“never mind.”

bf!franco who hypes you up even if you dress up a little. small clunky high heels? boom, pet name. that short dress he bought you two weeks ago? boom, compliment.

“ready to go?”

“yeah, let me just-”

“dios mío amor,”

“what, what’s wrong?”

“my girl’s looking gorgeous! give me a little spin, baby.”

bf! franco who will never admit he’s sleepy because he wants to be conscious around you.

sleepy!franco who sleep talks. the first time you were just reading a book and it scared you half to death.

sleepy!franco who always falls asleep on the couch then refuses to go to bed.

“hey, franco wake up.”

“hmm?”

“baby it’s almost midnight let’s go to bed yeah?”

“noo, estoy cómodo.”

“i love you, but I don’t care. cmon.”

sleepy!franco who always sends you to sleep in one of his hoodies. his pulls it over your body then kisses your forehead, with a mumbled ‘I love you’.

bf!franco who makes you his personal translator for colloquial terms. he nods and laughs when hears them throughout the day but will only ask you to explain it to him.

“amor, qué es girl dinner?”

“oh um,”

“I heard it earlier I- it’s dinner for girls, no?”

“well it’s like- uh. snacks for dinner. you know how i used to crackers and cheese and then you’d yell at me? it’s kind of like that.”

“ah okay.”

bf!franco who brings attention to things that you weren’t aware of. it’s small things like:

handing you another drink right when you finish your the last sip of your first one

tying your shoelaces or strapping in your heel buckle, accompanied with a small kiss to your ankle

doing your skincare routine for you when your half asleep in his bed

bf!franco that makes sure you’re okay in any kind of group setting. you’ll be talking to one of your friends and feel his presence behind you.

“bien, vida?”

“yeah. thank you.”

bf!franco who will easily waste an entire day cuddling and watching movies with you even if you having something important to do.

the sheets move with calum as the sun outside cracks through the blinds, encouraging him to start his day. he certainly doesn’t want to, now that your asleep but his side.

it was a split decision, you staying with him last night. you were just supposed to drop off something he left at your apartment and ended up watching a movie. he loved that it was so easy with you around.

the bed creaks softly beneath him as his arms stretch out, careful not to wake you. calum rests his head on his pillow, watching your chest rise and fall with ease. you’re like a painting — full of life and color always.

you stir, almost like you know he’s looking at you, and once you’re almost conscious, calum pulls himself closer to you, “mornin’ gorgeous.”

he watches as sleep slowly departs from you, a smile starting to form and your eyes blinking slowly to see him.

oh, how he loves you so.

“g’morning.” a content hum passes you lips as you smile into his chest. your fingers trace over his tattoos like they always do, the small sensation making his heart thud against his chest.

he’s so comfortable, so warm that you could just…

“hey, don’t fall back asleep. you just woke up.” he teases.

you groan lightly, calum’s hands intertwining with yours. “anything planned for today handsome?”

“not with you like this,” he presses a small kiss to your forehead and you burrow your body closer to his. “comfortable?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

ob87:

ka12:

lh44:

cs55:

1975!member who didn’t (and still doesn’t really) know how to play the guitar. George has been secretly teacher how to play it, but in the studio she makes the guys play the chords to hear what it sounds like.

1975!member who always insists on her hair being down during every show. it gets hella knotted and the boys have to deal with her complaining but it makes her feel like a rockstar.

1975!member who writes songs in the dead of night. says her best ideas and thoughts come alive when everyone’s asleep. ross catches her quite frequently, an ankle high pile of lyrics and her laptop within arms reach.

“hey kid.”

“hi.”

“why aren’t you asleep?”

“could ask you the same thing.”

1975!member that loves to sit on the roof or on the hotel balcony and have a snack in the dead of night. it happens mostly on tour, with only ross knowing since she certainly would get a berating from matty or adam that she needs sleep in order to function the next day. ross one time sent her room service since he saw she was active on social media and received just about a million ‘thank you’ and ‘you didn’t have to do that’ texts.

1975!member who loves a good rom com. her favorites include 10 things i hate about you, notting hill, love actually, and 50 first dates. she’s a sucker for romantic love yet somehow has experienced so little of it in her own life.

1975!member who gets very emotional onstage when matty talks to the crowd. her and ross are having a chat then she catches a glimpse of some poet-like profound thing matty has said and practically bursts into tears. ross always has a pocket tissue or handkerchief on his stage of the stage in preparation for this— he simply knows her too well.

1975!member who dyes her hair at the start of every tour. it was a thing for both her and matty, choosing a wacky color and be matching, but in recent years has slacked off due to matty’s hair being ‘fried like an eggroll’. her next victim is george… surely he’d do it, right?

Luke

Calum

Ashton

Michael

it started off with one question about his tour schedule and somehow ended like a car wreck that did about a thousands flips in the two minutes that already passed.

“why don’t you say anything, ash? you hate it as much as the other guys do!”

“it’s a decision we all make, Y/N. I can’t keep telling you that!”

“oh so so now it’s my fault that you’ve been gone for half the year?”

“wow.”

***

guilt leans your body against the wall, head meeting the wall with a light thump, and a flood of emotions rolls into your stomach when you see him.

ashton’s humming softly to himself, hunched over his guitar, clearly exhausted. his fingers fidget with the strings, their usual familiarity with the instrument far gone.

he’d fled the room earlier in a quiet disbelief, your words pushing him at an alarming rate. you’d had your fair share of fights as a couple, but this one felt like the worst.

you tap on the door. “hey.”

“hi.”

you gesture to the empty space next to him, “can i-?”

he shifts slightly, eyes distracted. “yeah.”

you note his one word answers: not good.

“heard you playing earlier.”

any word you said felt like a scar to his body, bloody and painful.

his focus returns back to the instrument.

“hmm.”

your hand meets his before he starts nervously playing like he was.

“I’m sorry.”

ashton’s breath hitched like you’ve said it again. tears prick at his wyes, threatening to escape. he reaches and places the guitar on its stand as you search for explanation for him. an answer. anything, really.

he stops you before you could start.

“you think I want to be away from home? from my family, and-”

you swallow hard.

“that i-… i like being so far from you? no. it fucking sucks. and I hate that when I call you there’s that crack in your voice when i ask if you’re okay. i-”

his hazel eyes meets yours, and you feel like your skin is on fire. the guilt in your body is replaced with something warmer.

he sighs and you feel his breath close to you, “i would never go on tour again if it mean that you were always with me.”

his lips are on yours and it feels like you both can breathe again. ashton’s hand press against your face, caring and secure as his tongue clashes with yours.

the hurt has faded, but your stomach twists at the guilt that still aches. your hands tangle in his hair as he pulls back as you ramble,

“I’m so sorry, ash. I was being a complete asshole and I didn’t-”

“hey,” he lightly shushes you, “none of that sweetheart.”

you nod, his lips biting and sucking as they travel down your neck to your chests. your eyes shut at the feeling, ashton’s actions making your grind against him.

his lips leave a small trail of red on your chest as he looks at you.

“I love you. so much, Y/N.”

you peek your head and see ross sitting so comfortably and coolly in front of his computer. you squeeze through the crack of the door, watching him for a minute or two.

“can I ask you something?” your voice trembles. anxiety twists in your stomach at the thought of asking, but it’s been on repeat in your mind.

ross re-racks the bass on the holder next to him, calm and steady. “‘course love.” he motions you over to a nearby couch, pulling you onto his lap. he places a few kisses on you, lovingly and gentle, and and suddenly your face feels hot, sure this is stupid to ask him, because…

how do you even say this?

ross’ eyebrows furrow in concern at your newfound quietness. “darling, whatever it is, you can tell me.” he smiles, pulling you closer to him. “it’s alright.”

your body shifts against his awkwardly. “do you ever think about being with someone else?”

he tenses, speaking slow. “no, why? is there someone else?”

you shake your head, “no! no.” never in a million years would you think that. you sigh, “I just meant… do you wish you were with someone, you know. older? more mature?”

he thinks for a moment. maybe. in a different life. one that’s boring. it’s a life you weren’t in. so,

“no.” he answers simply.

“what?” you’re shocked. you’d thought he would have a little more to say than a simple ‘no.’ “you’re not even going to try to fight me on this?”

he sighs, “i promise it’s not that big of a deal, doll.”

you huff, “people stare at me ross. actually stare! you don’t get it, feel it. wherever we are it feels like we’re doing something wrong, and i-“

his voice cuts through your thoughts, “do you think our relationship is wrong?”

“I-? no.”

“okay.” his thumb grazes your lips, “and are you happy with me?”

“yeah. of course.”

his eyes are on yours now, hopeful he can change your mind. “then that’s all that matters… us. “i love you. and that will never change y/n, no matter how old we are.” he speaks like the words are weightless, “i love you because you make me a better person. you make me so happy.”

“oh,” you sniffle. ross wipes a stray tear from your cheek. “I’m sorry baby. was just thinking about it a lot, dunno why...” you bury your face in his shirt, and feel his hand on the back of your head.

“it’s okay,” a small laugh rumbles in his chest. after a few minutes he speaks. “I can’t wait for our wedding day when I’m seventy and you’re, like, forty five.”

you lift your head and see his smile, almost giddy. he pulls you in, placing a soft kiss on your lips. “the three of us are going to have the best day of our lives.”

your eyebrow cocks, “the three of us?”

ashton:

calum:

michael:

luke:

dark and heavy clouds loom outside your quiet apartment, its cold stature slowly creeping its way inside. your mind feels the same — it swirling with all complex and ranging thoughts, accompanied by that god awful stomachache, and you can’t help but feeling well, sick. your favorite comfort show plays lightly in the background but you pay no mind to the ailment that’s simply not easing your tornado of a mind.

something buzzes again on the table - sent from matty you presume- and you glance at the writing:

matty: baby where’d you go

matty: you alright?

you sigh in response, too tired to answer, too tired to deal with it, too tired to fix whatever was going on. your eyelids droop with exhaustion and pain against the soft couch pillows, body aching from from the frantic and sudden rush of emotion that was too familiar, as you succumb to the sweet relief of sleep.

***

matty’s emergency key shifts in the lock with an experimental twist of the knob and a slight creak of the door. matty was worried you’d shoo him out of your apartment for using the key incorrectly, but that was an issue for another time.

his eyes dilate to the bright light of the tele, its playful colors almost eerie against the darkness of night.

“y/n? it’s me,” he calls out.

your figure shifts against the couch, cheeks tear stained and damp. “hmm?”

he finds you, dark hair peeking through some of the bunched up blanket. “darling, why are you in the dark?” matty flips the nearest light switch, the light feeding the pain a little.

“‘m just sick,” you hear yourself say.

the key clatters against the glass table and he’s quick to asses you. his hand presses gently and lovingly against your forehead, “hmm. you’re not warm or anythin’.”

matty waves a hand in front of you, still trying to get a read on your symptoms, “does your stomach hurt?”

you tremble as his actions continue close to you, and his warmth and scent are so damn comforting and start to encourage more tears to fall, but your mind stops and settles on the fact that he couldn’t help you even if you tried.

his kindness starts to annoys you as you push against his chest, maybe a little too hard. “would you relax?”

he falls back against the floor, finding your eyes tired, red, and confused. he notices the recoil in your voice but doesn’t take any offense to it.

he just wouldn’t get it.

he treads lightly, "hey. is something wrong?”

yes.

your eyes glare at him, “no. ‘m fine.”

that dormant feeling creeps up your neck, irritating and making you hostile with no intention of stopping.

it hurts, and fuck would it be so much better and easier to tell him how your mind felt like it was tearing at every part of you, never tiring and always there. but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. you couldn’t be a burden to him.

you don’t even realize you’ve bit down on your lip, and matty slowly reaches to wipe the blood, “love, you’re hurting yourself.”

he’d never seen you like this so fragile, so vulnerable. he’s run every plausible scenario and nothing comes close to what could’ve put you into this mood.

“what’s going on,” he says, careful and tense. it wasn’t an ask, it was a command— you hated it.

that he’s here. hate that he cares. hate that he wants to help.

every part of you wants to break and sob uncontrollably while he held you. of course you wanted him here, he’s the only one that’s every showed an ounce of care for you, and reminded you that you were a person.

but he can’t see that part of you. he just can’t.

you need to lie. get him out of here before you break. the words come out quick and spiteful. “can you just fucking leave, matty?!”

he groans, “y/n i love you, but I can’t help you if you dont tell me what’s going on!”

you freeze. the pounding in your head stops. every critique, every mistake, every sliver of doubt. it all stops.

he said it.

“what?”

“you can’t just- huh?”

"back, uh. back up. what did you just say?"

he stumbles a bit, “i’m, I’m not leaving you when you feel like this, y/n. I love you.”

love was set deep in his chest that night he asked you to dinner, and even more so when you accidentally spilled your water over the table. it was a traditional love you had, but one that was so unique it felt as if there was a new spark every time he’d see you.

you can finally seem him clearly. he just wanted to help you.

the suffocating feeling dissipates as sobs erupt from your mouth, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry matty I didn’t mean-“

his arms wrap around you tight. “hey, hey. it’s alright love. I’m here, yeah?” his speech is much softer now, the edge in his voice far gone. “everything’s gonna be alright, love.”

the ground beneath you is still, holding each other close as the apartment creaks in the walls around you.

“i just feel like i can never get away from it. i can’t escape it.”

he listens.

“my brain just picks itself apart until i break and i,”

he pulls you in a little closer.

“I’m just so tired, matty.”

his heart breaks for you.

“I know darling.”

“please don’t go.”

you look up at him. he sees those beautiful, tender eyes of yours and swears he’s seen heaven.

a soft smile spreads across his face. “never. i love you, y/n.”