#why the need to remind him that he's live George | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sassypossumm · 2 months

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It Happened One Night: Tequila and Bourbon

(Part 1) (Part 2)

The alarm on your phone went off, shaking you out of a deep sleep. So, you flung it across the room.

Your head began pounding, and breathing seemed too loud. Groaning, you tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but the churning nausea rolling through your gut would not be ignored. Flinging the covers aside you staggered to your feet.

Funny, your slippers weren't where you'd left them. Before you could ponder that quandary further, your stomach roiled again, sending you running, or more likely dragging your half dead carcass to the bathroom.

Lifting the toilet lid, you dropped to the ground and wretched into the bowl. And then again. Resting your cheek on the rim of the toilet bowl, you closed your eyes and hugged the porcelain like a lifeline.

"I feel like an extra in the Walking Dead." You moaned to no one in particular. At that moment you didn't care if it wasn't 'socially acceptable to talk to yourself'. You felt like shit, and if you wanted to complain to yourself, by George, you jolly well would.

Again, your stomach churned, and you again wretched over the bowl. Your body was shaking at this point, and a few tears slid down your cheeks from the exertion.

Unbeknownst to you, you hadn't been the only party in bed, and said party was just stirring awake. And suffice it to say, he didn't look much better than you.

Miguel rolled over, sprawling across the bed and raised his head when his fingers felt the warm spot that had clearly been occupied recently. With some effort, he pulled himself up and cradled his head in his hands.

Usually, he could handle his alcohol, but not this morning. While his stomach wasn't roiling like yours, he did have a splitting headache, and the overwhelming need to take a piss. Peeling back the covers slowly, Miguel rolled out of the bed and stretched, moaning in relief when his back made an audible cracking sound.

"Getting old, O'Hara." He muttered to himself, running a hand raggedly through his hair. Pulling on his t-shirt, Miguel shuffled to the bathroom, stretching out his arms and yawning loudly. He felt as shitty as you but considering that the last six months of his life had been one long shit fest, this had become the norm.

They hadn't called it retirement, when Jess and Peter had suggested he take a break. No, of course not. Just... a break. It was of little consequence to him, in his mind Miguel had been put out to pasture like so much cattle, and he resented it. So how did he express that resentment?

By scarfing down cold empanadas and watching whatever terrible Tela Novela was on television. Sometimes to mix things up, Lyla appeared sporadically with cheery little reminders that he had a back log of messages from Jess. Messages he was ignoring on purpose.

Yawning yet again, Miguel stepped into the bathroom and dropped his boxers... only to be met with a piercing scream... which he returned with a startled cry of his own.

The mating call of the idiots.

"You!" Both voices shouted in surprise.

The events of the previous night...

"You need to take a break man."

"What I'm hearing is that you're ousting me." Miguel had shot back.

"What? No!" Peter had tried to pat his shoulder, but Miguel was having none of it. Folding his arms, he glared at Peter and Jess.

"After everything I've done, I pulled this society together with my bare hands, not to mention I've kept the universes safe,"

"We've kept the spider verse safe. Miguel." Jess said pointedly, mirroring his stance, refusing to back down. "We took down Spot as a team, Miguel. We saved countless lives as a team. And you seem to have forgotten that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Miguel reeled back at her insinuations. Jess looked almost regretful as she glanced at Peter and back at him gravely.

It means you're not God, Miguel, and you need a break."

"You okay, man?" The bartender's words cut through his bitter recollections.

"Why shouldn't I be, okay? I'm a free man." He bit out the last words and held the drink up to the light. "You try to be a good man, take care of everybody and what does it get you?" Narrowing his eyes, he downed the bourbon and placed the glass on the counter with a 'thud'. "Cucked. Apparently, it gets you cucked." The bar tender shook his head and left Miguel to his misery.

If only you'd done the same. But like they say, misery loves company.

"Mind if I sit here?" Without waiting for an answer, you plopped onto the stool next to Miguel, and took a sip of your tequila.

"It's a free country." He muttered without looking at you. Shrugging you turned to flag down the bar tender.

"Tequila, please, a whole bottle." He raised a brow at your still half full glass, and you gave him a tight smile. "Go big or go home, right?" The bar tender slowly returned your grin and reached behind the counter for a bottle.

"Here you go."

"Thank you, my good sir." Sliding a wad of bills, you'd won in a slot machine across the counter, you topped off your glass and glanced again at Miguel. "I see we seem to have the same mission tonight."

"What?" He finally glanced at you, albeit through eyes that were growing glassy. You jutted your chin towards his half empty bottle of bourbon.

"Getting swacked. Seems to be the theme of the night." Miguel shrugged and turned his attention back to his drink. "I've never actually gotten properly drunk before, figure," Shrugging, you take a drink straight from the bottle. "What the hay, break up with a shitty guy, might as well get wasted." You bit out the last words and took another swig.

"Are you always this chatty when you drink?" He grumbled, turning again to glance at you and his eyes narrowed. "The shitty guy, he did that?" Miguel's voice took on a dangerous edge as he gestured to a deep purple bruise near your left eye. Humming, you shrugged nonchalantly and squinted to read the label on the bottle.

"That's nothing, you should've seen the going away present I gave him."

"What'd you do?" Miguel turned to face you, leaning against the bar, interest piqued. You chuckled darkly and took another swig.

"Cuffed him in the jaw with a shovel." A twisted grin ghosted over your face before it fell, and you took another drink. "Hope he's not dead. The shit's not worth my time in prison." You grumbled. Alcohol made your tongue loose and lowered your inhibition, which was why you rarely drank. Miguel snorted and took another drink of his bourbon. Refilling the glass, he looked at you again, a healthy dose of respect in his eyes.

Your eyes flit to the shot glass of tequila you'd abandoned. "Haste makes waste, or whatever it is they say." You muttered, downing the shot. By that point, you felt that warm hazy sensation overtaking your body, and whatever decision-making skills you possessed where swiftly being ignored in favor of instinct.

Taking note of the jukebox in the corner, your ears perked up as you recognized the song. Seven Spanish Angels. It'd been a favorite of your fathers. Miguel noticed the tears pricking at your eyes, and he raised a brow.

"You, okay?" Wiping your nose with the back of your forearm, you shook your head and sniffed.

"No. But who is, right?" He couldn't argue with that. "That is..." Squeezing your eyes shut, you swallowed hard. "Was my dad's favorite song." Miguel's eyes softened, and he topped off your shot glass with some of his bourbon. "Thanks." You smiled weakly at him.

"Don't mention it." He said gruffly, refilling his own glass, emptying the bottle. You downed the shot and put the glass on the counter none too gently. "I'm not one to preach to the choir, but you might want to pace yourself."

"I might not be Paul Bunyon, mister, but I can hold my liquor."

"Paul Bunyon?" His lips quirked. "Am I supposed to know who that is?" You brushed off his snide tone and sighed heavily, gesticulating dramatically with your hand.

"A giant lumber jack with a giant blue ox."

"And I remind you of this, giant lumber jack?" Miguel said bemusedly, with a raised brow.

"I'll bet you'd swing an ax, real pretty, mister." Giving him a sly once over, you leaned an elbow on the counter and propped your chin in your hand. Miguel felt a distinctive heat prickle across his neck, and he coughed.

That should've been the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. But with the subtle twang surfacing in your voice, and the almost hungry way you were staring at him, Miguel struggled to find it anything other than positively erotic.

"In case you were wondering," His breath stalled when you scooted closer and looked into his eyes with an exaggerated sense of gravitas. "I am objectifying you to a disgusting degree." A tingle slithered down his spine and curled around his tail bone, and he released a shuddering breath.

Present Morning...

Getting your bearings, you dragged yourself to your feet and sat on the edge of the bathtub, head in your hands.

"I have so many questions..." Glancing up you saw Miguel pacing, boxers still around his ankles. So, he wasn't so much pacing as he was waddling. There was so much to take in all at once, but you shook your head and shielded your eyes. Now isn't the time to be getting horny you idiot. You grumbled to yourself. "Please put that thing away."

"Thing?" Miguel paused midstride and glanced down. Looking up, he noticed your attempts to block your vision and smirked. "You don't like what you see?" He said, propping his hands on his hips cockily, seemingly forgetting the circumstances at hand.

"That's hardly the point right now!" You sputtered and groaned when a splitting pain shot through your skull. Miguel rolled his eyes and pulled up his boxers.

"I'm not naked anymore." Tentatively you peeked between your fingers and dropped your hand, looking up at him.

"You look like shit." The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. Miguel smirked.

"You're not exactly sleeping beauty yourself." You felt your face flush, but you couldn't argue. It didn't take a mirror for you to know how you must look. Your stomach roiled again, and you flung yourself over the toilet bowl and wretched.

Miguel held back your hair. You shuddered violently and pulled back, wiping away tears and filmy residue. Miguel's eyes softened at your vulnerable state, and he helped you gently to your feet.

"Thanks." You rasped. Miguel's brows furrowed, and he seemed to be studying you. Tilting your head back, your expression mirrored his own. "What, hey!" You squeaked in surprise when he hoisted you up by the waist and sat you on the counter by the sink. Without a second glance at you, he turned on the water and rifled through the drawers for a wash cloth. "What are you doing?" You watched him, curiosity piqued.

"Your face is disgusting." He said simply, lathering up the wash cloth he'd found.

"Gee, thanks a lump." You muttered, folding your arms.

"You know what I mean." He sighed and squeezed the excess water out of the soapy cloth. You reached to take the cloth, but he pulled it back and narrowed his eyes at you. "What do you think you're doing?" You blinked at him, confusedly.

"Wash my face?"

"I'll do it."

"I'm perfectly capable of washing my own,"

"I said, I'll do it." He cut off your protest firmly, tilting your face up. You opened your mouth to protest, but at his glower, you closed your mouth. Satisfied, Miguel gently washed your face with the cloth. Up close, you had a chance to admire anew just how good looking he was. No, good looking was an understatement.

This man was the stuff of Michaelangelo's wet dreams. Oh, to be a sculptor. You thought, wryly, tracking the subtle twitch of his eyebrow and the way the muscles ticked in his jaw as he focused. His eyes locked on yours, and you glanced away, flushing.

"You weren't this shy last night." Miguels lips twitched, but his tone remained neutral. And for some reason, that made it all the hotter. Your eyes flit to his momentarily, and at the shit eating grin that spread across his face, you huffed.

"Asshole." You grumbled, folding your arms. Miguel simply grunted, good naturedly and rinsed the rag before wiping the soap off your face. "I don't remember very much about last night." You admitted when he finally pulled back, giving you breathing room again.

"And I seem to remember even less." He said, tossing the cloth in the hamper.

"I guess we both got pretty swacked last night." You groaned, rubbing your temples thoughtfully. "I don't even think I caught your name." You breathed, looking up at him slowly, shame flushing your face. Miguel folded his arms and leaned against the bathroom wall.

"Miguel O'Hara." Were you not actively fighting to tamp down a rising waive of panic, the subtle accent that rolled off his tongue with the words would've had goose bumps prickling your skin. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sighed heavily.

"All things considered, you're taking this really well, Miguel O'Hara." You glanced up to catch his shrugging his shoulders.

"As you so eloquently put it, we got 'swacked', is it? And it seems evident to me that we hooked up." You were taken aback by his cool demeanor.

"Oh, is that so evident to you, Mister Smarty Pants?" Narrowing your eyes, you jumped off the counter, and immediately stumbled. Miguel reached out and caught you before you fell.

"Mujercita espinosa." He grumbled, wrapping an arm supportively around your waist.

"I don't think I want to know what you just called me." You groused as he slowly led you back into the bedroom and gingerly helped you perch on the edge of the bed. Fighting through another wave of nausea, you placed your head between your knees and groaned. "Just let me die." You moaned loudly.

"You might really want to when I tell you where we are..." Miguel sounded genuinely concerned.

"Oh, yeah, why's that?" Opening your eyes, you turned your head and saw Miguel standing tensely by the window. Feeling the blood pounding in your head, you slowly sat up. "Might as well tell me what other piss poor decision we made last night, where are we?" Miguel glanced at you warily. "Miguel... where are we?" Narrowing your eyes, your tone grew firmer.

He sighed and pulled the curtain further aside, looking again out the window. In the next tense moment of silence, your eyes fell on a sheet of paper sticking out from under the lamp on the nightstand and reached for it curiously.

As you read the paper, your heart dropped. You didn't need him to tell you where you were. A marriage license. With the proud country of Mexico stamped at the top.

"I think I'm going to be sick..." You struggled to breath, and dropping the paper to the bed, you curled in on yourself and began hyperventilating. Crossing the room, he started to reach for you, but froze when his eyes landed on the paper.

"Mierda." He muttered under his breath, as he scanned the writing. He recognized his handwriting, and the accompanying signature he attributed to you. At least he had a name to go with your face now.

And a wife to go along with it, cabrón." He thought bitterly, dropping the paper on the nightstand. Tempted to give in to his familiar spiral of self-loathing, but paused when he looked down at you. You'd curled up like an armadillo and were shaking like a leaf.

His heart crumpled at the sight. He couldn't be selfish, you clearly needed him to be the stable one right now. Running a hand through his hair, he took a ragged breath and sat heavily next to you.

"Hey." He rested a hand in the center of your back, causing you to tense. After several minutes of his soothing strokes up and down your back, you started to uncurl yourself. "You, okay?" He whispered gently when you finally sat up and crossed your legs. Breathing out a shaky laugh, you ran shaky fingers through your hair, and glanced at him with slightly wild eyes.

"Not even a little bit." You said, shakily. Miguel could only nod, his own mind trying to wrap around the overload of information. Moaning, you flopped back on the bed again. "I'd always assumed I'd get married, but this is ridiculous!" Not that he didn't agree with you, but for some reason, his ego still stung at your caustic tone.

"It's certainly not ideal." He said tentatively. You shot up and looked at him, eyes panicky.

"Not ideal. Not ideal. He says!" Sensing you were going into another spiral, Miguel took your face in his hands, gently but firmly and turned your head.

"Hey, look at me." The authority in his voice caught your attention, and you narrowed in on him, breath still rapid and shallow. Miguel leaned closer and looked intently into your eyes, his voice never wavering. "This is going to be okay."

You began sputtering, but he simply shifted a hand so he could place his thumb gently over your lips. Your eyes widened at the motion, and you glanced from his thumb back to his eyes. Had they been that startling russet hue last night? You couldn't remember.

Just like you can't remember anything else, you dodo. You thought bitterly. You felt the rough pad of his thumb grazing softly over your bottom lip. The combinations of that sensation and his deep voice whispering your name, brought your thoughts to a screeching halt, and you couldn't do anything but stare at him.

"Are you with me?" He said a bit louder, and said your name again, more pointedly. You nodded as best as you could with his hands keeping you so firmly in place. Taking a deep breath, he let his hands slacken a bit and you took a bracing breath.

He looked back into your eyes. "This is a shitty situation, and I've got a splitting headache, but it's going to be okay, I promise." Your heart stuttered at his firm tone, and searching his eyes, you found that you believed him.

"I believe you." You choked out. His eyes widened, and you saw his pupils dilate and retract before he released your face and leaned back. Releasing a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding in, you studied this perfect stranger, this... husband, more intently.

Something about him made you want to believe him. Made you want to believe that if there was a monster in the closet, he'd vanquish it. Made you want to believe that he'd slay a dragon if it meant keeping you safe.

Wishful thinking. You shook your head, clearing out the fanciful thoughts. He was just a man, like any other man. And men failed. You were certain, Miguel O'Hara wouldn't prove to be the exception. But, for some reason, on this one thing... you had no qualms about putting trust in him. When he said this would be okay, you knew it would.

"What are we going to do?" You gave voice to the nagging question, flopping back on the bed. You bounced a little when Miguel's heavy back hit the mattress. After several minutes of silence, you turned your head and saw him staring intently at the ceiling.

"Miguel?" He hummed. "What are we going to do?" A muscle ticked in his jaw, and slowly, he turned his head to meet your eyes.

"My lawyer is in Nueva York. We'll fly back, and he'll look over the license. He can tell us if it's legally binding or not."

"And if it is?" You pressed, raising a brow. Miguel breathed out through his nose, and he shrugged.

"Then, we'll cross that bridge when we reach it."

@feyhunter78 (figured out how to tag!!!)

By the by, I AM open to suggestions about where we can take these two idiots in the future! Kinda wanna try to actually have some follow through and develop a full fledged plot for once!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #meet cute

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asdfghjklmals · 1 year

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NETFLIX & BETRAYALS✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. WORD COUNT: 0.8k words. TAGS: boyfriend!gojo, satoru gojo x fem!oc, established couple.

SYNOPSIS: oc gojo girlfriend betrays satoru and watches an episode of the show they were watching together without him. AUTHOR'S NOTE: in celebration of bridgerton's queen charlotte premiere. i cried ugly tears and then an idea popped up in my head. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

“babe? i’m home!” satoru called out to you in the living room from the foyer.

you were spooked by your boyfriend’s voice. he wasn’t supposed to be home from his mission until half past seven. you quickly turned off the television and sprinted to your lover’s side.

“hi, honey!” you chuckled apprehensively, brushing his arms up and down with your hand. “how was work?”

“they assigned me a grade 2 curse because no other sorcerers were available. it was a piece of cake.” he squinted his eyes at you, suspicious of what you were doing before he teleported into the apartment.

you tried to keep the conversation going, “i thought you weren’t gonna be home until 7:30pm? if i knew you were coming home early, i would’ve started dinner.”

“babe, it was a grade 2. my presence alone was enough to exorcise that tiny thing.” that satoru gojo, he was so cocky and full of himself. as he should be, he was the strongest after all.

“what were you doing just barely?” he questioned you with suspecting eyes. “oh, just watching some random show on tv.” you nervously laughed, scratching the back of your head. “okay, cool. mind giving me the remote?” satoru reached for the remote in your hand as you backed away from him.

“why don’t you order us some dinner first? then we can watch our show together.” you avoided his eye contact, you were a horrible liar and he could see right through you. you always joked that it was a benefit to having the six eyes, when in reality, he just knew you too well. he was the type of boyfriend to know when you were awake just by the sound of your breathing.

your current tv show that you and your boyfriend were watching together was the latest season of bridgerton. you and satoru were avid fans of the show and watched every season together. your favorite season was season 1, but he didn't need to know that. unfortunately, last night ended on a cliffhanger and satoru had to wake up early for work, so you couldn’t watch another episode together. you may or may not have started the next episode without him… you just had to find out why king george was acting the way he was!

satoru stood in front of you and grabbed the remote from your hand. you didn’t even try to fight him. his cursed energy well overpowered yours and you knew you wouldn't be able to get through his infinity. you gulped as he turned on the TV.

“i knew it!” he shrieked, “you started another episode without me!” he was so dramatic. it was like you went to sushi go without him, or if you went to his favorite kikufuku shop without him, it was the end of the world in his beautiful, cerulean blue eyes.

you stepped forward, “babe, i had to know why—”

“nuh uh. i’m pissed at you.” he frowned and folded his arms. you peered at him with puppy dog eyes and continued to slowly creep towards him. he pouted his lips and turned his face away from you. you placed both your hands on his shoulders, shifting them to cradle both sides of his neck.

“i’m sorry, satoru.” you tip-toed to kiss his cheek as he refused to look at you. you continued your assault of kisses on his cheek, down his jawline, and towards his neck until gojo pushed your hands away from him.

“okay, okay. i forgive you,” he rolled his eyes. he couldn’t stay mad at you for more than a minute. “but, because you betrayed me, you’re treating for dinner tonight.” you felt that it was a fair punishment. you smiled at him and he put his arms around your waist, pulling you into a hug. he rested his head on your shoulders.

“sushi go take out?” you suggested.

you felt his laugh vibrate your whole body.

“yes, lady gojo, that would be quite splendid,” as gojo recited in a fake (but horrible) british accent.

EXTRA:

you and satoru binged the entire new season of bridgerton tonight after finishing your take out dinner from sushi go. you were both bundled up in a cozy throw blanket on the couch, legs intertwined, gojo’s arm around your shoulders pulling you close.

“by the way, satoru…”

“hmmm?” he squeezed you, kissing the side of your head, peering down to look at his tired lover.

“i know you watched the last season of love is blind without me.”

“i did not! i would never betray you like you did to me today.” he said defensively, clutching his chest in (fake) shock. he was also a horrible liar. how could two people so bad at lying be together?

“oh, i know you did, baby. megumi told me that you were using his profile so i couldn’t see the watch history on ours.”

“that’s it, i’m changing the netflix password.”

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

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il-miele-che-scrive · 4 months

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Drunken Mistakes

charles leclerc x reader x george russell summary: in the aftermath of a breakup, y/n and charles try to reconnect, but y/n makes a mistake, leading to a heartbreaking confession words count: 3k warnings: mentions of alcohol

The argument that led to Y/n and Charles' breakup started innocently enough. Charles had noticed his girlfriend was focusing on her job so much that they barely had time for each other. He couldn't remember the last time she attended his race.

"You never have time for me anymore." The man said. "I feel like we're growing apart."

"Me?" The girl scoffed. "Let me remind you, during the season you're in a different country every weekend."

"That's my job, Y/n, I am a formula one driver in case you forgot. But now the season is over and I want to spend time with my girlfriend."

"You knew what you were getting into when we started dating." Y/n argued, her tone defensive.

"You used to come to the most of my races!"

"Work has been tough, there's a lot to do." Her eyes avoided his gaze.

"Why do you care about it so much? It's not like you need money, I could buy you anthing you want."

"This isn't about money, Charles. It's about my career, my ambitions. I have goals too, you know?"

"But what about us? I miss you, Y/n. I miss us."

The room fell into a heavy silence. Y/n could see the pain in Charles' eyes, mirroring her own sadness.

Charles spoke after a moment of silence. "Maybe we're just not right for each other."

Y/n felt a lump in her throat as she searched for the right words. At one point she questioned if she heard that right. Charles was breaking up with her.

Charles regretted his own words, but his pride wouldn't let him take them back. He knew breaking up wasn't the only solution

Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes, but she tried to hold them back. "I never thought it would come to this." She admitted, her voice cracking.

"Sometimes, people change. Maybe we're just not the same people we fell in love with." Charles' voice was tinted with with sorrow.

In the following days, the space between Y/n and Charles grew wider, both emotionally and physically. They lived together, so the girl decided to pack her things and move out. It was hard, but not impossible to find a place in a matter of hours. And thanks to being hardworking, she didn't have to worry too much about the cost.

The problem was, she kept seeing Charles everywhere, in all social medias. Even after unfollowing each other, Y/n kept seeing news about him, pictures from events. The constant reminders made moving on way the more challenging.

In an attempt to break free from this loop, Y/n decided to put herself in a different kind of atmosphere. One night the idea of using alcohol as a temporary remedy for her heartache crossed her mind.

Dressed for the occasion, Y/n stepped into a bar. It was full of people, too many people for the possibility of being recognized by someone she could've known.

"What can I get you tonight?" The bartender asked as the girl sat down on a stool by the bar.

"Surprise me." She replied, a smile playing on her lips.

As the bartender began making a drink for her, Y/n allowed herself to look around the room. It was then that her eyes caught sight of someone familiar approaching her.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Y/n!"

George Russell. Not a close friend of Charles, but certainly an acquiantance of his. Y/n exchanged a word or two with him in the past, but didn't know him as well as she knew Carlos or Lando, who were closer with her ex-boyfriend.

"Nice to see you, George," Y/n sent the man a smile as he sat down on the stool next to her.

"What brings you here?" He asked, a curious glint in his eyes

"Needed to change my routine a little," she replied, accepting her drink from the bartender.

"How have you been holding up? Charles mentioned the breakup to me, but I didn't want to pry."

Not to mention it was all over the media, Y/n added in her thoughts.

Y/n sighed. "It's the reason why I'm here, what do you think?" She took a sip from her drink.

George leaned back, a sympathetic expression on his face. "Breakups are never easy. I can imagine it's been tough for you."

"It's the adjustment, you know?" Y/n continued, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "Getting used to the idea that the person you once shared everything with is now just a memory."

The man nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I've been through a few breakups myself. It's never easy."

Y/n found herself drawn to George's charm and the way he made her feel understood. His presence carried some kind of comfort that eased the ache in her heart.

George on the other hand, catching a glimpse of Y/n's eyes, found himself captivated by the vulnerability. The girl let herself be so open, talking about her breakup and the pain it brought.

"You know what, Y/n? Let me get you another drink." George said, a playful twinkle in his eyes.

Y/n smiled. "Sure, why not?"

George leaned against the counter, engaging in a brief exchange of words with the bartender, later turned his attention back to Y/n. "I've got this one," he declared with a charming grin.

The atmosphere between the two of them grew intimate as they continued the conversation with another drink. A subtle connection lingered between Y/n and George.

In a moment of unspoken tension, George's eyes met Y/n's with a hint of something more, longing for an intimacy that went beyond mere conversation.

Their faces drew closer, the anticipation building up. Y/n had come to the bar seeking a distraction and it seemed she was on the brink of finding it.

A moment of silence embraced them, a comfortable one. One in which drowned even the ambiance of the lively bar. The music, still loud, became a distant background.

Y/n closed her eyes, preparing to connect her lips with George's. But just as their breaths mingled, George hesitated, pulling back.

Instead of diving into a kiss, George surprised her by leaning back and asking, "How about we continue this conversation somewhere a bit more private?"

Y/n looked at him. "Like what?" She asked.

"My place is somewhat close."

Y/n's curiosity and the unspoken tension between them pushed her to agree. "Lead the way."

The city streets seemed to sway gently around Y/n and George as they made their way to his place. The night air carried a cold breeze, but the warmth of the alcohol kept them unaware of it.

Arriving at George's place, the quiet hum of the city outside was replaced by the comforting cosiness of his home. The dim lights embracing them in a romantic atmosphere.

George turned to Y/n after locking the door. Not moving from the hallway, they smiled at each other. George walked closed, causing Y/n to step back and eventually her back touched the wall.

Y/n's hands landed on George's shoulders, pulling the man even closer. Their eyes met and soon after that, their lips connected in a short kiss.

A quiet, tipsy giggle escaped from Y/n's mouth. George gently grabbed the girl by her wrist and led her into the living room. Sitting down on the sofa, he placed his hands on Y/n's hips, causing her to land in his lap.

As they embraced the tipsy intimacy, the living room became a sanctuary for yet another kiss. One that lasted way longer. One that had their clothes scattered around on the floor.

Closed curtains successfully stopped the morning light from getting inside the room. Y/n opened her eyes. She slept wrapped up in George's arms, so she carefully detangled herself from his embrace to sit up. Of course she didn't drink enough to not remember what happened.

Although she wished she did. A mix of guilt and regret washed over Y/n as she looked around. The cosy atmosphere that felt so comforting the night before now seemed to emphasize the reality of the situation.

Her eyes landed on George who was still peacefully asleep. Y/n didn't know what to do, she's never been in such situation before.

Water. She needed water. Her throat felt like a desert.

The girl quietly walked to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of tap water. Somehow, her phone was on the countertop. She grabbed the device to check for any missed calls or messages left without a reply.

Her heart sunk when she saw missed calls and a few texts from Charles. What could he have wanted? Y/n hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to return the calls or respond to the texts. The weight of guilt intensified as she listened to Charles' voicemails.

Hey, Y/n, it's Charles. I know we're broken up and you probably hate me, but something kept telling me to call you. Call me back when you can, I miss you.

If you're not up for talking, just send me a text to let me know you're okay. I care about you and I want to make sure you're safe.

Y/n, it's Charles again. I'm not sure what's going on, but I've been trying to reach you all night. I just want to make sure you're safe

Y/n, it's Charles. I've left several messages, and I'm starting to think the worst. Please, just give me a sign that you're alright. I care about you a lot and not knowing is really getting to me

"What have I done?" Y/n whispered to herself. The guilt consumed her, overshadowing the moments of happiness she successfully looked for the night before.

Anxiety started to build up in her chest and her eyes were starting to get a bit watery. She hesitated, but eventually decided to return the calls, hoping George won't wake up to witness this.

"Y/n, where were you? I've been trying to reach you all night." Charles questioned.

"I needed some alone time." Y/n began, stammering a bit. "I don't have to explain my choices and actions to you, especially now."

There was a heavy silence on the other end of the line and Y/n could almost sense Charles processing her words.

"Y/n, we need to talk. This isn't fair to either of us," he finally said.

I don't wanna see you ever again, Y/n wished she said. Her words came out a bit differently however.However, her words came out a bit differently. "Fine, let's talk." Because no matter what she did, she missed Charles.

"Could you come over today? It's so, I don't know, weird to talk about it on the phone."

"Sure. When could I come over?"

"As soon as you can, maybe? If that's alright for you."

"Give me an hour or so, I'll be there." And with that, she hung up.

Just as the conversation was finished, George walked into the kitchen. He looked at Y/n with a warm smile that gradually faded as he sensed the tension.

"Morning," he said with a rasp in his voice, "are you okay?"

Y/n sighed, running a hand through her hair. She decided to be honest with George, he deserved it after all. "We need to talk about what happened yesterday."

"Yeah, about that..." he scratched his neck, "I don't want to give you any kind of hope or-"

"Wait, what? Was it meaningless to you?"

"Ah, here it comes. Well, I'm not looking for anything... romantic. Not now. We can do what we did last night more often, but no strings attached."

These words gave Y/n a sense of relief. "You don't know how glad I am that this didn't mean anything to you."

Y/n's confession hung in the air, creating an awkward pause between her and George.

"Are you being sarcastic?" He asked. "I don't want to complicate things further or lead you on."

"No, no sarcasm at all. Actually, I've just talked to Charles on the phone."

"Oh, and? What did he want?"

"He was worried, tried contacting me last night too many times. And... well, I'm meeting him today. He wants to talk."

"Ah, that's never good. Do you think he'll want to get back together?"

Y/n took a deep breath. The answer was yes, she did expect Charles to get back together. However, she didn't know if she should tell that to George.

Considering the silence on Y/n's side, George continued. "Do you wanna get back together with him? It didn't seem like it last night," a sly smile appeared on his face.

"I... I'm not sure, George. Charles and I have a history and there are feelings involved, but things have been complicated lately." Y/n replied, choosing her words carefully.

"Relationships are messy and figuring out what you want is important. Just be honest with yourself."

With George's words echoing in her mind, Y/n gathered her thoughts and headed to meet Charles. She stopped by her own place beforehand to make herself look decent.

"Hey," he greeted her, as he opened his door to let her in. There was an expression of concern on his face.

Charles didn't look better than Y/n that morning. His hair was disheveled, he looked as if he wasn't able to get good sleep in the past few days nor did he shave his face.

"I was worried sick," he admitted, "what happened? Why didn't you answer earlier?"

"Jesus, Charles, I was busy. Besides it's not very ex-boyfriend of you to call me a thousand times in a row."

The air inside the apartment felt heavy. In an awkward silence, Y/n and Charles settled on the couch.

"I care about you, Y/n. Damn it, I love you." The man broke the silence. "I don't think the breakup was a good idea."

"Well, it was your idea..."

"I make mistakes, we all do, but it's nothing that cannot be fixed, right?"

You're gonna hate what I'm about to tell you, Y/n thought. She could see the sincerity in his eyes and it made her feel so much guilt.

"Charles, I... I appreciate your honesty and I care about you too," she began, "so I need to tell you what happened yesterday."

Charles ran a hand through his unkempt hair. "I know we had issues, but I still believe we can work through them. I love you, Y/n, and I can't just let go."

Y/n took a deep breath. "Don't say that."

"Why not? That's the truth, I love you and I've never regretted anything as much as I regret breaking up with you."

"Charles, stop." Her voice raised slightly, but then she lowered it back to normal. "I did... something last night and... It was a mistake, but it happened, I cannot hide it from you."

Charles nodded. "Then tell me, but I swear nothing can change my mind."

"Okay..." Y/n hesitated, looking for the words that would hurt the least. "Last night I went out, drank probably more than I should've and I... ended up spending the night with someone."

Charles didn't reply for a long time, a mix of shock and hurt crossed his face. The room seemed to close in on Charles and Y/n as the silence stretched.

"You... you what?" Charles finally said, his voice a fragile whisper.

Y/n felt her chest tighten as she faced the consequences of her actions. "Charles, I know this is difficult to hear and I'm so sorry. It was a drunken mistake, I didn't realize what I was doing."

"Do I know him?"

"What?"

"Do I know him?" His voice raised. "If you told me you did it, you can tell me who you did it with."

Y/n hesitated, realizing the added layer of pain she brought. "It was someone you know," she admitted, "George."

"George? George Russell? Really?" Charles's voice carried a tint of anger and hurt. "You could choose any guy, but you decided to go for him?"

"I didn't plan it, it was a mistake and I regret it."

"And you have the audacity to come here, probably straight from his place?"

"You wanted to see me."

"I had no idea you fucked Russell!"

"You said we can work through our issues. It's not a mistake that cannot be fixed, right?" Y/n pleaded, her eyes starting to tear up. She was surprised she managed to keep herself from crying for so long.

"I don't know anymore, Y/n," Charles sighed. "I love you, but I don't think you realize the weight of what you've done."

"I understand, Charles. I truly am sorry," Y/n cried, her voice shaky with emotion.

"No, Y/n, just stop. I can't believe this is happening, I need time to process it. I think it's better if you leave."

Y/n felt her relationship with Charles crumbling beneath the weight of her mistake.

Charles's gaze was distant, the pain in his eyes echoing the depth of his hurt. "Y/n, I need time to figure out if we can move past this. Right now it's too much."

Tears started to slowly run down Y/n's cheeks as the reality started to sink it. "I never meant to hurt you like this, Charles. I love you and-"

"I need space, Y/n," Charles said with a heavy sigh. "I need to process everything. Please, just go."

It felt like a dagger through Y/n's heart, but she nodded. Deep down she understood it. With a heavy heart, she stood up, casting one last look at the man she still loved. She left Charles to deal with the aftermath of their mutual pain.

Each step away from Charles felt like a step into an uncertain future, leaving behind the comfort of what was familiar. Y/n couldn't shake the guilt and regret that devoured her, questioning if there was any way to fix what she had broken.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #george russell #george russel x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader

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muzaktomyears · 20 days

Text

In 1980 Peter Brown, a former assistant to Brian Epstein who later ran Apple Corps, managed the Beatles and was best man at John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s wedding, started work on the definitive account of the Beatles. With the American author Steven Gaines, he spoke to the three surviving band members alongside wives, girlfriends, managers, friends, hangers-on and everyone else in the Fabs’ universe. The book promised to be the last word in Beatles history. Then in 1983 The Love You Make was published, and all hell broke loose.

“They were furious,” recalls Gaines, 78, still sounding pained at the memory. “Paul and Linda tore the book apart and burned it in the fireplace, page by page. There was an omerta, a code of silence around the Beatles, and they didn’t think anyone would come forward to tell the truth. But Queenie, Brian Epstein’s mother, told us above all else to be honest.”

“Even she didn’t think we would be quite so honest,” adds Brown, 87, his upper-crust English tones still in place after five decades in New York.

Why did The Love You Make, retitled by Beatles fans as The Muck You Rake, incite such strong feelings? The suggestion of an affair between Lennon and Epstein on a holiday to Barcelona in April 1963, only three weeks after the birth of Lennon’s son Julian, had something to do with it, but more significantly it was taken as a betrayal by a trusted insider. Brown and Gaines locked the recordings in a bank vault and never looked at them again — until now.

“Very good question,” Brown says, when I ask why he and Gaines have decided to publish All You Need Is Love, an oral history made up of the interview transcripts from which The Love You Make was drawn. He is speaking from the Manhattan apartment on Central Park West where he has lived since 1971. “When [Peter Jackson’s documentary] Get Back came out, a journalist from The New York Times wanted me to talk. I told him I hadn’t talked about the Beatles since the book was published and suggested he go to someone else. He said, ‘There isn’t anyone else. Paul, Ringo and you are the only ones left.’ And I thought, do I have a responsibility to clear it all up, once and for all?”

After the death of Epstein in 1967, Brown assumed the day-to-day responsibilities of managing the Beatles and Apple Corps. He had on his desk a red telephone whose number was known only to the four Beatles. Unsurprisingly, given his insider status, the interviews make for fascinating reading. Paul McCartney, yet to be asked the same questions about the Beatles thousands of times over, is remarkably unguarded. Asked by Gaines if the other Beatles were anti-Linda, he replies: “I should think so. Like we were anti-Yoko.” On the image the Fabs had for being good boys on tour, he says, “You are kidding,” before going on to reference a notorious incident involving members of Led Zeppelin, a groupie and a mud shark, concluding: “No, not in the least bit celibate. We just didn’t do it with fish.”

Ono, speaking in the spring of 1981, not long after Lennon was killed in December 1980, reveals that she didn’t sleep with Lennon for the first two years of their relationship — “John didn’t know how to make a move” — and claims that she was blamed by the Beatles camp, George Harrison in particular, for getting Lennon onto heroin in 1969. “Everything we did in those days, anything that was wrong, was my responsibility,” she tells Gaines. But everyone, from the Beatles’ notorious late-period manager Allen Klein to the Greek electronics wizard/hustler “Magic” Alex Mardas — “the Mordred of the Beatles’ Camelot” according to Brown — has their own version of events.

Going through the transcripts reminded Gaines of the long shadow cast by Lennon. “I didn’t realise how sensitive the other Beatles were to John’s opinion,” he says, speaking from his home in the Hamptons, Long Island. “Paul worried about what John would say [in the event Lennon died before being interviewed] and was still longing for his friendship. George said that John didn’t read his autobiography because it was called I, Me, Mine. Those interviews were done before John’s death and Paul’s heart was broken, even then. It wasn’t just the break-up of the Beatles. It was more personal than that.”

From around 1968, the transcripts reveal how the key Beatles duo started to come apart. McCartney’s enthusiasm was only getting stronger. But Lennon grew increasingly bored and disillusioned. “You have to remember that John wasn’t in love with his wife Cynthia,” Gaines says by way of explanation. “He wanted to get away from the life he was leading and that’s why he started to experiment with drugs, all the way up to heroin.”

Brown says Ono was, and probably still is, a distant, mysterious character, exactly the kind of person Lennon was looking for, having done the right thing and married the sensible, quiet Cynthia after she discovered she was pregnant with Julian in 1963. “John told me about meeting this woman, and how frustrated he was that he couldn’t get to know her better; he couldn’t take her to lunch because it would cause gossip. I gave him the key to my apartment so he and Yoko could be together in private and thought, naturally, they were going there to f***. When I went home that evening, the apartment was untouched. They did nothing more than sit on the sofa and talk. That’s what they wanted: to know each other.”

Regarding the long-held, unfair suggestion that Ono broke up the Beatles, Gaines says: “Yoko came along at the right moment to light the fuse, but the dynamite was already packed. They resented her, she was difficult to understand and had a deep effect on John, but they were getting more and more unhappy with each other and needed to have their own lives. As people in the interviews say again and again, [the split] was bound to happen.”

It was Brown who in May 1968 introduced McCartney to Linda Eastman, an ambitious young American photographer whom he knew from his business trips to New York, when she came to London on an assignment to shoot the Rolling Stones. “I was having dinner with Paul at the Bag O’ Nails [a club in Soho] when she turned up, so I introduced them and he was obviously taken with her,” Brown recalls. “The following Friday, May 19, we were holding a party for 12 top photographers at Brian Epstein’s house in London when she walked in. Paul says I didn’t introduce him to his wife … but I did.”

If the book has a villain it is Klein, the New York accountant who took over management of the Beatles and sacked everyone around them, much to McCartney’s horror. As Brown puts it: “He was a hideous person. He even looked like a crook: sloppy and fat, always wearing sneakers and sweatshirts. Everything he didn’t like was ‘for shit’.”

You wonder why Lennon fell for him. “The interviews suggest it is because Allen Klein offered Yoko a million dollars for her movie project,” Gaines says. “She was enticed and John would do anything Yoko said.”

“I asked Mick Jagger to come over and explain to the four Beatles who this Allen Klein was,” Brown remembers. “And John, in his wonderful way, had Klein turn up to the same meeting, which was deeply embarrassing. It made Mick very uncomfortable too.”

Epstein, the man who saw the Beatles’ potential in the first place, is a central figure in All You Need Is Love. It includes a transcript of a recording of him from 1966, not used for the original book. It was in the possession of Epstein’s attorney Nat Weiss, and seemingly made by Epstein to mark the end of the Beatles’ final tour. He claims not only that Lennon felt remorse for the infamous comment on the Beatles being bigger than Jesus — “What upset John more than anything else was that hundreds of people were hurt by that” — but that the Beatles would tour once more. “There’s no reason why they shouldn’t appear in public again,” Epstein claims. They never did, unless you count that rooftop performance on January 30, 1969.

“Brian was driving them around the north of England in his car for a year,” Brown remembers of the early days. “This Jewish guy from Liverpool, who was gay, was with these guys who had been hanging around in Hamburg, so both had interesting backgrounds. They understood each other.”

For Gaines, a self-described “gay Jewish boy from Brooklyn”, Epstein is at the heart of the story. “Brian never felt the love of a real relationship. Then he found the Beatles. Everyone thought it would be just another of his phases, but he had tremendous feelings for John, both sexual and intellectual, and that’s what really pushed him. If there was one thing that started the whole thing off, it was Brian’s love for John Lennon.”

That love affair was the contentious issue of the original book. In his interview, McCartney says of Lennon going to Spain with Epstein: “What was John doing, manipulating this manager of ours? Sucking up to him, going on holiday, becoming his special friend.” It wasn’t the suggestion of a homosexual relationship that was troubling McCartney, but the balance of power tilting in Lennon’s direction.

“Paul wanted to be in charge, and he deserved to be because he was the motor, the driving force,” Gaines says. “Paul felt that John would steal away the power. He felt threatened by John’s relationship with Brian.”

“Paul always wanted to be active,” Brown adds. “After Brian’s death the world had to be carried on. Who was going to do that? It wasn’t going to be John, George or Ringo. Brian was my best friend and I was very upset [at his death]. I had to go to the court to convince the magistrate that it wasn’t a suicide, and the following day Paul set up a meeting so we could discuss what we would do next. I said we’d do it next week, and he said, ‘No, it has to be now.’ He was right.”

How did Brown and Gaines feel about the horrified reaction to the book, not just from fans but the Beatles themselves? “The world has changed,” Gaines says, by way of answer. “Now, after all these years, hopefully people can see it as a truthful, loving and gentle book.” It has been decades since Brown spoke to the surviving Beatles and he has not contacted them about this new publication.

What the interviews really capture in eye-opening detail is the story of four young men who became a phenomenon, then had to deal with the fallout as the dream ended. On December 31, 1970, the day McCartney sued the other three to dissolve the partnership, Brown handed in his resignation as the Beatles’ day-to-day manager and officer of Apple Corps. Ringo Starr said to him: “You didn’t want to be a nursemaid any more, and half the time the babies wouldn’t listen to you anyway.” Brown moved to New York and became chief executive officer of the Robert Stigwood Organisation. But the Beatles never fully left him, and in the wake of Get Back — and the news that Sam Mendes is to direct four biopics, one on each Beatle — he decided he had one last job.

“We have finished our responsibilities,” Brown says with quiet authority. “It is the end of the story.”

EXTRACTS

‘It’s like bloody Julius Caesar, and I’m being stabbed in the back!’

Paul McCartney on the Beatles signing Allen Klein as manager against his wishes

[John Lennon] said, “I’m going with [Allen] Klein, what do you want to do about it?” and I kind of said, “I don’t think I will, that’s my roll.” Then George and Ringo said, “Yeah, we’ll go with John.” Which was their roll. But that was pretty much how it always ended up, the three of them wanted to do stuff, and I was always the fly in the ointment, I was always the one dragging his heels. John used to accuse me of stalling. In fact, there was one classic little meeting when we were recording Abbey Road. It was a Friday evening session, and I was sitting there, and I’d heard a rumour from Neil [Aspinall, road manager] or someone that there was something funny going around. So we got to the session, and Klein came in. To me, he was like a sort of demon that would always haunt my dreams. He got to me. Really, it was like I’d been dreaming of him as a dentist. Anyway, so at this meeting, everyone said, “You’re going to stall for ever now, we know you, you don’t even want to do it on Monday.” And I said, “Well, so what? It’s not a big deal, it’s our prerogative and it could wait a few more days.” They said, “Oh no, typical of you, all that stalling and what. Got to do it now.” I said, “Well, I’m not going to. I demand at least the weekend. I’ll look at it, and on Monday. This is supposed to be a recording session, after all.” I dug me heels in, and they said, “Right, well, we’re going to vote it.” I said, “No, you’ll never get Ringo to.” I looked at Ringo, and he kind of gave me this sick look like, yeah, I’m going with them. Then I said, “Well, this is like bloody Julius Caesar, and I’m being stabbed in the back!”

‘You don’t like to see a chick in the middle of the team’

Paul McCartney on Yoko Ono

Give Yoko a lot . . . that was basically what John and Yoko wanted, recognition for Yoko. We found her sitting on our amps, and like a football team, an all-male thing, you really don’t like to see a chick in the middle of the team. It’s a disturbing thing, they think it throws them off the game or whatever it was, and these were the reasons that I thought, well, this is crazy, we’re gonna have Yoko in the group next. Looking at it now, I feel a bit sorry for her because, if only I had been able to understand what the situation was and think, wait a minute, here’s a girl who’s not had enough attention. I can now not make this into a major crisis and just sort of say, “Sure, what harm is she doing on the amps?” I know they would have really loved me. You know, we didn’t like Yoko at first, and people did call her ugly and stuff, and that must be hard for someone who loves someone and is so passionately in love with them, but I still can’t — I’m still trying to see his point of view. What was the point of all that? They’re very suspicious people [Lennon and Ono], and one of the things that hurt me out of the whole affair, was that we’d come all that way together, and out of either a fault in my character, or out of lack of understanding in their character, I’d still never managed to impress upon them that I wasn’t trying to screw them. I don’t think that I have to this day.

How Cynthia Lennon was driven to drink — at an ashram

Alexis ‘Magic Alex’ Mardas on Ono’s love letters to Lennon

Alexis Mardas was also known as Magic Alex, a name John bestowed on him because he was so taken with Alex’s inventions. Alex was handsome, charming, and a charlatan. (He sued The [New York] Times in Britain for calling him a charlatan and settled out of court. He’s dead now.)

[The Maharishi] was fooling around with several American girls. The Maharishi was making all of us eat vegetarian food, very poorly cooked, but he was eating chicken. No alcohol was allowed in the camp. I had to smuggle alcohol in because Cynthia wanted to drink. Cynthia was very depressed. John was receiving letters from Yoko Ono. Yoko was planning to win John. She was writing very poetic and very romantic letters. I remember those letters because John was coming to me with the letters, and Yoko was saying to John that “I’m a cloud in the sky, and, when you read this letter, turn your head and look in the sky, and if you see a small cloud, this is Yoko. Away from you but watching you.” Poor Cynthia was prepared to do absolutely everything to win John. She was not even allowed to visit the house where John was staying. She was longing for a drink. Now, drinks, they were strictly prohibited in the ashram, but when it was discovered that Maharishi had a drink, I said, “Just a second, at least equal.”

‘He’s become so nasty’

George Harrison on reaching out to John Lennon

What’s wrong with John, he’s become so nasty. It sounds like he hasn’t moved an inch from where he was five or six years ago. I sent Ringo, John, and Paul all a copy of my book. I got a call from Paul. He called me up just to say how much he liked it. I shouldn’t have called it I Me Mine, because that title was a bit much. I sent a copy to John. I’m wondering if he’s actually received it, if he’s received it, he probably doesn’t like it or something offends him about it.

‘I told John that ... it was just a nice feeling’

Yoko Ono advising John Lennon how to take heroin

George said I put John on H, and it wasn’t true at all. I mean, John wouldn’t take anything unless he wanted to do it. When I went to Paris [before I met John], I just had a sniff of it and it was a beautiful feeling. Because the amount was small, I didn’t even get sick. It was just a nice feeling. So I told John that. When you take it properly — properly is not the right word — but when you really snort it, then you get sick right away if you’re not used to it. So I think maybe because I said it wasn’t a bad experience, maybe that had something to do with it, I don’t know. But I mean so, he kept saying, “Tell me how it was?” Why was he asking? That was sort of a preliminary because he wanted to take it, that’s why he was asking. And that’s how we did it. We never injected. Never.

‘It was time’

Ringo Starr on the end of the Beatles

Ringo Starr: Well, I’m pleased it happened because in so many ways, I’m glad it’s not going now. It was time. Things last only so long. Steven Gaines: The Rolling Stones are [still] going. Ringo Starr: Yeah, but they’re old men.

(source)

#the beatles #here we go

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bl00dst41ned · 7 months

Text

*.·:·.✦ my little secret (jude bellingham 'series' pt.2) ✦.·:·.*

pairing: jude bellingham x female oc (Mariah)

summary: in which jude finds out what he's missing

author's note: part 2 is out, part 1 is here. taglist: @everlyjay, @barcagirly (don't know if you wanted to be tagged but didn't know what you meant with your repost) you can still ask to be tagged.

series masterlist

word count: 696

It was another day at St Georges’ Park. The English team was back for the international break. Jude sat at lunch, Trent at his left and Marcus and Bukayo in front of them, in the middle of a conversation.

“Aye, Jude, you remember Mariah ?” Marcus started as he kept his eyes on his phone.

Jude’s head rose, confusion written on his face.

“The girl you disrespectfully dumped after cheating on her” Trent described with no facial expression.

Even though Jude was his friend, he never forgot to remind him how wrong he was in this situation.

“Oh, umm yeah why?”

Marcus turned his phone around showing them an Instagram post.

mariahsworld Self care day to celebrate Tamara’s five months of living. Thank you for choosing me as your mom, I love you 💕

Within a second, Jude had gone on her account via his spam since she had him blocked on the main page and viewed the post. He then went to click on her story seeing even more pictures and videos of her and her baby.

Jude kept his eyes on the screen as if he was hypnotized.

"Waow, I didn- just waow" He mumbled, lost of words. "She definitely turned a new page"

He kept scrolling as Mason and Declan sat at their table. The two instantly noticed Jude’s concentration since he didn't even noticed them.

"Jude what's wrong?" Declan asked as the young man finally noticed them.

"Nun- his ex he threw away for a one night stand now has a baby" Bukayo cut him off with a teasing smile on his face, ruining Jude's attempt to change the subject.

"Mariah?!" Surprise was laced in Declan's voice at the mention of the girl. "This cannot be real"

Declan went on Mariah's page, seeing all the posts with the little girl on it.

"Five months...."

"Tamara is a such cute name" Mason intervened.

Declan had noticed a detail about the little girl's date of birth that rose his attention.

"When did you guys break up already ?"

"A little over a year ago, maybe a year and a month"

Declan's eyes widened as it all came together in his head. If little Tamara was five months, then Mariah had to get pregnant a year and two months prior. And if they broke up a year and a month ago...

"Mate," Jude nodded his head indicating he was listening "Is that your daughter?"

"Wh- No, i-it can't be, she didn't tell me anything"

As unbelievable as it sounded to him, Declan's theory had intrigued Jude. He stared at the picture of the baby while thinking. Not able to get his mind right, Jude needed external advice.

Jude

*sent an attachment*

bro look at this

Jobe

Mar had a baby ?!

waow didn't expect that

Jude

jobe, this might be my child

Jobe

……

Hahahaha

stop playing I almost believed you

Jude

I'm being serious

Jobe

How serious?

Jude

As serious as serious can be

Jobe

ooh tell me all about it

Jude

stop joking pls I'm in deep shit

so Dec did the maths

the baby is 5 months

plus the nine months so we have 14 months right ?

Jobe

Good you can do basic maths

Jude

anyways

we broke up around 13 months ago

therefore ?

Jobe

mum's gonna burn you into ashes

and throw them in the bin

you're dead asf

Jude

no shit 🙄

but it's not what's important rn

I need confirmation

Jobe

for what exactly ??

you're the cheater from what I know

Jude

who knows ?

Jobe

bro you're nuts

she would not have done that

but looks like I'm an uncle 😝😝

Jude

jobe please be serious

you sound like liyah rn

she's getting into your head

Jobe

what did you just say about my girlfriend?

Jude

you can't fight me

Jobe

for my girl ?

I'll beat you tf up 😍🥰🔪

your potential daughter looks so cute tho

Jude

JOBE

we are digressing

what should I do ?

Jobe

bro….

text her

Jude

she blocked me

Jobe

okay ??

if you actually care, you'll find a way

Jude

why is everybody so rude with me ?

Jobe

Jude

STOP WITH THE MEMES

you're becoming just like your girl

Jobe

as I should

Jude

….

bye

Jude exited his conversation with Jobe going to DM Mariah on his spam.

yo it's Jude

i think we need to talk

like and repost for support (hope you enjoyed it)

masterlist for more

#written by bl00dst41ned #my little secret series #football #football fic #football imagine #football x oc #jude bellingham #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham imagine #jobe bellingham x oc

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writerbuddha · 10 months

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I don’t agree with you at all. And further nothing Lucas says outside of the movies he made means anything. Anakin was forbidden from being with his mom, of having a relationship with Padmé and Obi-Wan reminds him that he has made a commitment to the Jedi order that is not easily broken. Anakin cannot answer ‘yes’ when he’s asked if he’s allowed to love for crying out loud. He says he can’t be with the people he loves either. That’s Lucas’s story, not the BTS nonsense.

Luckily, I don't need you to agree with me at all.

But let me address something I see all the time on Tumblr, and what is manifesting itself in your message.

I didn't need George Lucas to say anything "outside of the movies he made" to get his messages and lessons he wanted to tell. The reason I have a vast collection of quotes from him is because it's good to find absolute, 100% reassurance from George Lucas himself that yes, this is what was intended, my interpretation of the movies is the interpretation he hoped from his audience. I really can't grasp why people insist on the idea that it's some kind of universal truth and experience that if you don't listen to George Lucas' commentaries on his work, that somehow gives you a fundamentally different story.

Anakin is not answering "yes" when he is asked if he’s allowed to love because he answers by distinguishes between the kind of love which is forbidden for a Jedi Knight - attachment and possession - and love which is central to a Jedi's life, which is compassion, which is unconditional love. Whether or not you agree with this distinction is your own business, but dismissing it as nonsense or even as a lame attempt on Anakin's part to convince Padmé that they can have a romantic relationship is not making as much sense as many would like to believe, even if you don't know anything about Buddhism. And it's very clear in Lucas' story that they do love.

Furthermore, if we're at it, if you want to adhere only to what you can see and hear when you watch the movies, then you shouldn't make statements like "Anakin was forbidden from being with his mom" - that's simply not supported by the source material. I guess this is why people try - and fail - to argue that when Anakin tells Padmé that "I know I'm disobeying my mandate to protect you, Senator, but I have to go" it somehow supposed to mean that he would disobey the Jedi Council if he would contact his mother.

Padmé: Must be difficult, having sworn your life to the Jedi, not being able to visit the places you like or do the things you like.

Anakin: Or be with the people that I love.

Reading this conversation as some kind of evidence that a Jedi is not allowed to love people and like places or like doing things or that they're, but then they are not allowed to be with them or go there or not allowed to do those things is nonsense, sorry. A Jedi Knight's life, as Qui-Gon explicitly warned Anakin, is hard. They don't go where they want to go, because they go where they're needed. For a good Jedi Knight, who lives on the joy of compassion and giving himself to others, the two are the same. They live for others.

When Anakin tells Obi-Wan in Episode II that he finds Padmé's presence intoxicating, he warns him, "You've made a commitment to the Jedi order, a commitment not easily broken." The only thing we can get from the movies and the tv show is that they're not having romantic relationships, they don't marry and are not having children - none of these are able to support the idea that love itself, romantic and non-romantic alike, is forbidden for a Jedi Knight. In Clone Wars, he explicitly tells him, a Jedi Knight is not forbidden to have romantic feelings. But, when duty calls them and when it comes to choosing between duty and that relationship, they must choose duty. This is very clear in the source material. And if we think about it, it makes perfect sense: Obviously, there are many functions and roles in life where one can live on compassion and on giving oneself to others, and also being able to get married and start a family, but the role and function of a Jedi Knight, who is a guardian of peace and justice in the entire known universe, dedicating his life to lifelong spiritual and psychological progress, marriage and kids would cause troubles for him and for his family as well. If you think about it, a Jedi who starts a family, must be fully available for the whole galaxy and must be fully available for their family at the same time; they must be like a parent to their apprentices and must be a parent to their children; and they must support their family, and in the same time, they must keep themselves in perfect spiritual, physical and mental condition, deepening their connection to the Force. Not to mention to preserve a healthy amount of time for themselves. The duties of a Jedi and the duties of a parent and a spouse cannot be fulfilled by one person without the expanse of another - or if you can fulfill both, it will be hardly without the expanse of yourself. So, it's unwise.

So again: to me, there is no discrepancy between "Lucas’s story" and what you label "the BTS nonsense", and never was. Maybe this is something to think about.

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bella-rose29 · 5 months

Text

You Shall Go to the Ball!

Anthony Lockwood x f!Karim!reader

Requested by anon: Hey, I don't know if you accept requests, but I have one. Reader(she is George's sister) accompanies Lockwood&co to the ball at Fittes and she is jealous when she sees Lockwood talking to the girl (maybe reader enemy or something)most of the time. She decides to interrupt the conversation and introduces herself as his wife, while showing the ring Lucy gave her, explaining what to do. A long chapter please😊

I am so sorry that this took so long anon 😭 (I'm also not sure about the title tbh but oh well)

a long chapter this will be! I made the reader George's adopted sister (I hope that's ok!). I also made this super long because I got so carried away and if it deviates from what you wanted then I'm so sorry my lovely

I made it just... a generic ball? I don't know if you had one specifically in mind but I thought it would fit better to have an occasion where they aren't fighting for their lives lol

sorry if your name is Maya bc that is the name of Lucy's crush in this and also sorry if your name is Steph bc she's the enemy of the reader (I had to put names in I'm sorry 🥲)

Word count: 9.8k (I'm doing my bit you guys)

Warnings: swearing, a sexual innuendo or two, bullying (mostly focused on the fact the reader is adopted), lockwood and reader love each other but they haven't done anything about it, tumblr lagged while I wrote most of this so there are probably mistakes, lockwood has some mildly self-deprecating thoughts, mentions of lockwood's suicidal tendencies, there's probably more but idk what

Tag list: @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @dangelnleif, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @novelizt, @ran23sblog, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @wandamaximoffbae, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife

As always, let me know here if you would like to be added to/removed from the tag list for my lockwood and co works (or drop me a message!) <3

Y/n was not happy.

She ought to have been, given the occasion, but she was very much unhappy instead.

Lucy was trying not to laugh too loudly, but was failing at her attempts to stifle just how funny she found the whole situation. "You know," she said between breathy laughs, "all of this would be a whole lot easier if you just told him how you feel."

"Nope. Not happening. Every time I try I freeze up and blabber some unintelligible words that make no sense, and I look like an idiot. So no."

The 'him' in question was Anthony Lockwood, the head of Lockwood and Co and resident of 35 Portland Row. Lucy Carlyle, George Karim and Holly Munro lived here too, and as George's sister Y/n had been invited to Lucy's 18th birthday party. It was a small party, only the five of them (six if you included the Skull, but only Lucy could hear it so Y/n didn't), but the atmosphere was lively and music was playing over the speakers George had set up. Banners and balloons stating 'Happy Birthday!' were strewn all over the living room (Y/n could already see Holly's eye twitching at the amount of confetti on the floor), and the boys were busy refilling glasses (another reason not to count the Skull - it had nothing to hold a drink with).

"You have to do it at some point though," she whispered into Y/n's ear. "But right now, you need to move." Lucy pointed in the direction Y/n was supposed to go, and she tilted her head back as she groaned.

"Remind me why you ever made me play this game?"

"Because it's my birthday, and you love me. Go on, unless you wanna forfeit."

"You're evil," Y/n hissed as she pushed herself off of the floor and made her way over to Lockwood. "I'm sorry, again."

"I'm not sure what for, to be honest. You're just playing the game." He smiled up at her from his place by the fire, and Y/n tried to ignore George's glare. "George, please stop looking at me like that. Lucy was the one who dared Y/n to sit on me." Y/n felt her face warm at his words, knowing that this night could only end in disaster for her, and decided to bite the bullet. Huffing, she turned and sat down, her back facing Lockwood as her legs went either side of his, and she let out a small yelp of surprise when his arms snaked around her waist and pulled her against him. Lucy only laughed, loud and obnoxious, and Y/n couldn't find it in her to shoot a look, still too taken aback by the feel of being hugged by Lockwood in this way. "You alright?" he asked, voice quiet and gentle in her ear, and she felt his breath on the side of her face.

"Y-yeah. I'm alright. How are you?" She cringed at herself, but his light chuckle reverberated through her and calmed her immediately.

"I'm alright. Quite comfy, actually. You're very warm." As if to back up his point he snuggled in to her shoulder, nose rubbing against the side of her neck, and Y/n almost choked. Instead she made a sort of strangled noise, and he stopped and looked up at her as though he was about to say something. Lockwood opened his mouth, but was cut off by George.

"Okay, she's sat on him, can she go back now? I don't wanna look at this anymore."

"George, Lucy dared her to do it for the rest of the game," Holly piped up, clearly enjoying this as much as Lucy. She also knew about Y/n's feelings for Lockwood, the three of them having had multiple nights where they talked for hours about the other two members of Lockwood and Co, and hadn't wasted any time at all in joining Lucy in her teasing about Y/n's crush. "Rules are rules, I'm afraid."

"Yeah, and it's my birthday, so don't even start to think about asking to stop the game. Besides, they look quite comfortable now, wouldn't wanna make 'em move again, would we?"

"I'm very comfortable, thanks Luce," Lockwood said, his hold tightening on Y/n.

"Y-yep. Perfectly good." Lucy and Holly shared a look, stifling their laughter. George sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, huffing at the scene in front of him. Y/n's brother also knew about her feelings for his boss, and he while he wasn't exactly mad about it, he also wasn't thrilled. She knew that he meant well, and was only looking out for her (especially since Lockwood tended to throw himself directly into danger most of the time), but a little support would be appreciated.

The rest of the game went without much incident, although George did have to stick his hand in the toilet (a dare from Holly that nobody expected, although since her arrival in the house the toilets were spotless so it wasn't much of a trial), and by the time Y/n realised that she should be getting home it was well past midnight.

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Okay, um- Lockwood! Hi!" He had just entered the living room where Y/n was stood clearing up (the others had gone up to their respective bedrooms), and she apprehended him in the doorway. "Can you help me call a taxi? I need to go home now and it's really late and-"

"Woah, slow down!" He placed his hands on her shoulders, a smile on his face. "Why don't you just stay over, yeah? It's what, two in the morning? You might as well sleep here and leave after breakfast. Your parents probably expected you to stay here anyway, right?" She nodded. It was a common occurrence for her to stay the night at Portland Row when visiting, since she didn't see them all that much. "So it's not a problem, really. You can take my bed if you like, save waking the others up."

"Lockwood, you really don't have to do that," Y/n started, but he cut her off.

"Nonsense. Holly's stayed too, so I'd feel bad if I turfed you out at this time of night."

"No, I mean giving me your bed. You don't have to do that." He shrugged, then moved to grab a blanket from one of the cupboards.

"I'll be alright, I'll sleep on the sofa. Seriously, Y/n/n, it's fine." He flashed her one of his smiles, and instantly she melted and gave in.

"Ugh, fine. But don't complain tomorrow morning when your back hurts," she wagged a finger at him, exhaustion winning out over guilt about taking his bed as she moved towards the door.

"Alright," he laughed, and Y/n didn't think she'd heard a better sound.

She traipsed upstairs and got ready for bed, and when she fell asleep moments after settling in she dreamed of the brown haired boy downstairs.

~~~

Y/n was sat at home in her room a day or so later when George burst in, arms filled with papers and glasses skewed on his nose.

"I've been thinking," he started, dumping the papers on the end of her bed and flopping next to her.

"Hi, Georgie, I'm doing great, thanks. What am I doing? Oh, not much, just sat here reading a book and listening to music." She sent him a pointed look to which he huffed and lightly slapped her arm.

"Shut up. Hi, how are you? Great, nice, okay. Can you listen to me now?"

"What?"

"So I've been thinking about you and Lockwood, and I've decided I don't mind too much. I mean, it's irritating, really, but technically I don't need to do a boyfriend check because I live with him so I know all his nasty habits and that, and I know that he's loyal to a fault, which is something I should probably raise with him, actually," George paused, frowning as he lost his train of thought.

"Um- okay... Where has this come from? I thought you wanted me to stop liking him?"

"Yeah, but then I had to listen to him pining after you for the last two hours at the Archives and I realised that maybe it would be better if you just got together already." Y/n stared at him in shock, processing the information her brother had just spewed.

"Wait, wait. Lockwood likes me? Are you sure?"

"Completely. This isn't some hypothesis or theory, it's fact. My sanity can prove it because it's nearly all gone."

"Okay, but... you're sure? Like this isn't a joke, right?"

"No! It's not a joke! God, you really are perfect for each other; he said the same thing you know. Didn't believe that I was telling the truth about you reciprocating his feelings. Seriously, you're both idiots for not seeing it, I mean, he let you sit on him a couple of days ago!"

"That was part of a game!" Y/n spluttered, face heating at the memory of his hands around her and his head in the crook of her neck.

"Well he wouldn't have cosied up to me, would he!" Y/n fell backwards against the headboard, hands pressed to her face as she groaned in frustration."You're still not gonna do anything about it, are you?" George was quieter now, and Y/n moved her hands slightly to peer at him through her fingers.

"Correct. I want cold hard proof before I make a proper fool of myself and have to never go to Portland Row again for fear of dying from embarrassment." Now it was George's turn to groan in frustration.

"Well somebody's just going to have to engineer a situation where you confess then, aren't they?!"

"Please, no. I will murder you while you sleep if you try anything." George was impassive when Y/n glared at him, used to her threats of death.

"Fine! I won't do anything, alright! Happy?"

"Sort of." They sat in comfortable silence for a little while, Y/n trying to read her book again but eventually getting too distracted by the mountain of paperwork that her brother hadn't touched since arriving. "What is all that, anyway?" she pointed to the end of the bed.

"Oh, my research for a case we have in a couple of days. I couldn't sit with Lockwood anymore, he was driving me insane."

Y/n rolled her eyes at her brother's dramatics. "Do you want help looking through it all?"

"Please. I have no doubts that Lockwood will be doing anything but research right now, and there's a lot to get through. At least I know that you'll stay focused."

"Come on then. Oh, are you staying for dinner? Mum's cooking tonight so you know it'll be good."

"I might do. I get caught up in this stuff anyway so we'll see what time it is. Thanks for the help, Y/n/n."

"No problem, Georgie." She ruffled his hair, laughing when he practically threw himself off of the bed to escape. He landed on the floor with a thud, only making Y/n laugh harder.

"I hate you," he said, sitting up and glaring at her through wonky glasses. "You're the devil, I swear."

~~~

Lockwood and George were cleaning the equipment after yet another successful case when George dropped the chains he was oiling and looked up at his boss.

"I don't get it," he started, making Lockwood glance up with a frown.

"Get what?"

"You barely know Y/n, and you only ever interact when she's here with us, so how are you so hopeless when it comes to my sister?"

Lockwood blushed as he remembered all the times he'd lied to his friends, telling them that he was going on a supply run or heading to the shops when in reality he was making his way to the cafe that Y/n worked at. He spent a good hour or so in there multiple times a week, and sometimes he'd offer to walk her home at the end of her shift, desperate for another few minutes in her presence. Since first meeting her not long after George joined his agency (she'd brought cake, homemade, saying that she wanted to give George a 'congrats on the new job!' present) Lockwood had wanted to be around her all the time; she was like the sun, and everything was gloomy without her. The first time he'd showed up at her place of work, he'd pretended it was a coincidence, acting surprised when he saw her behind the counter. Truthfully, he'd taken a gamble on whether or not she'd be working that day, but the blinding smile that was present on her face as she served customers (although Lockwood could tell it was a fake one) immediately told him that his gamble had paid off.

"Lockwood? Hi! How are you? How's Georgie doing, is he alright? Oh, did you want anything?"

"Just a tea, thanks love," he'd replied, not meaning for the term of endearment to slip out, but her resultant blush was enough to make him decide on repeating it. She started making a cup (he'd asked for it to take away), asking questions every now and then to get his order right, and he answered those as well as her previous questions about George. Eventually, he'd had to leave, paying for the tea he now held and exiting the shop with a promise to come back soon when she'd waved goodbye. It had become a sort of ritual for the two of them, Lockwood appearing a couple of times a week, sometimes to sit at a table with some case files, others he would just get his order to go, but he'd find a way to talk to her every time. On the days when he'd promised to walk her home she would have a cup of tea already prepared for him, sat on his usual table in the corner next to a plate of whatever pastry or cake she thought that he would enjoy. At some point over the years, Lockwood had started feeling his cheeks heat up whenever Y/n smiled at him, or butterflies start up in his stomach when their hands brushed, and eventually he'd had to accept the fact that he was falling in love with her.

"Lockwood? Lockwood! Back to the present, please!" George demanded, snapping his fingers in front of his friend's face. He was sure it had only been a few seconds, but George was annoyed all the same at Lockwood's daydreaming. He huffed in frustration, picking up the chains again."You two are insufferable, do you know that? Seriously, just ask her out already. She feels the same and you know it."

"I thought you didn't want me dating your sister?" Lockwood frowned, feeling hope start to bloom in his chest.

"Yeah, well, then I had to sit and listen to you talk about her for two hours the other day and I lost my mind."

"Oh. Well. I wasn't that annoying, was I?" George only stared at him, expression saying 'Are you serious?' and Lockwood had his answer.

"Just, I don't know. You both like each other, so why not? It'll save me from the pining at least."

Lockwood was quiet for a while, mulling over George's words. "I just know that she can do better than me," he eventually said, not looking up from the boots he was polishing. "I don't want her to... regret being with me, or something."

"Lockwood, having spent the last four years listening to her talk about you I can say with confidence that she won't regret being with you. All I ask is that you dial down the suicidal tendencies on cases, yeah? I really don't want to deal with her heartbroken." George's voice was the softest Lockwood had ever heard it, and Lockwood nodded his assent.

"Alright. I'm not making any promises though Sometimes my suicidal tendencies help us stop dying instead."

"I'm not doing much better than that, am I?"

"Nope. I will be slightly less chaotic on cases and that's as much as I can do for you."

"Fine. Keep polishing those boots, you've missed a spot."

~~~

It was a few weeks later when Lucy called Y/n up in a panic, yelling random words down the phone and ranting about something that sounded important.

"Lucy, Lucy! Stop talking for a moment!" The other girl did so, promptly falling silent, and Y/n took a breath. "What's happened?"

"There's this party- ball- thing that Fittes are throwing in like, two weeks, and we have to go because we've been invited but I have nothing to wear. At all. And you always know what to do in these situations so I figured you could help me?"

She was quiet for a moment, and then said "But it's... in two weeks?"

"Yeah."

"So why are you worrying about it right now?"

"Because loads of people have been invited, Y/n! What if the perfect outfit sells out? What if I end up in something I hate because there was nothing else?"

"Wait, wait wait." Y/n sat forward on her bed, pulling the phone off of the nightstand when the cord no longer reached. "Are you trying to impress somebody?" Now it was Lucy's turn to be quiet, and Y/n scoffed in disbelief. "Oh my god, Lucy Carlyle, do you have a crush?!"

"No, I don't! Shut up! Ugh! You are so annoying, for fuck's sake!"

"You totally do! You so have a crush! Who is it? Tell me!"

"I am telling you nothing, you nosey little bastard!"

"Okay, okay! Fine! I will get this information out of you, I hope you know. When do you wanna go shopping then?"

"Today?"

"Jesus, thanks for the notice!"

"A different day then! But we are not leaving it to the last minute like you always do!"

"No, no, it's fine, Luce. Mum's gone full clean mode anyway so it gives me an excuse to get out the house. Make my siblings do the work."

"Aren't you worried about your own room coming under fire?"

"Nope. We did mine yesterday, so I know I'm safe. I'll meet you at yours in twenty minutes?"

"Yeah, alright." They hung up and Y/n rushed downstairs, grabbing her bag and coat and pulling her shoes on, and within a few minutes she was yelling to her parents that she'd be back later and laughing at her siblings when they complained about her leaving them to their mother's cleaning fury.

~~~

"So," Y/n started, her tone supposedly disinterested as she, Lucy and Holly browsed the department store racks for something for the two agents to wear. "Who is it? The person you're dressing up for?"

"Oi, quit it." Lucy sent a glare her way, but it was too late. Holly had overheard and was joining in, and for once Y/n was glad that it wasn't her being questioned about a crush.

"Are we talking about Maya?"

"No," Lucy shot back, far too quickly for it to be the truth, and her rapidly reddening cheeks weren't helping either.

"Is that her name? Oh my god, okay! Wait, what do you know about her, Holly?"

"She hasn't told you anything? Okay, okay, so she's called Maya, works at Fittes which isn't brilliant, but she's sweet enough. Lucy totally wrecked her first impression though, which was hilarious."

"It was not! I looked like an idiot!" Lucy now had her face in her hands, and Holly had moved to link arms with Y/n. It turned out that Lucy had quite literally fallen for this girl after tripping on a kerb when staring at her, and Holly had laughed so hard she had to dash to a nearby toilet.

"Yeah, no, that is hilarious, Luce," Y/n cackled, gaining some glares from other shoppers.

"You can't talk, little miss 'I sat on Lockwood's lap and fucking yelped'!" Y/n opened her mouth in protest, looking to Holly for support, but the girl only shook her head and sided with Lucy again.

"I didn't think anybody heard that," she mumbled, mortified that apparently they had heard, and worse, hadn't forgotten.

"Oh we all heard, trust me."

"Ugh, I thought I was free because Lucy has a crush now!"

"Nope. Neither of you are off the hook," Holly declared as she laughed, and Y/n and Lucy shared a look. "Why did you yelp, anyway?"

"I was surprised, okay?"

"Did he have a flare in his pocket?" Lucy snickered with an exaggerated wink, and Y/n whacked her arm.

"No, he did not! You are ridiculous! He just... pulled me backwards into a hug, and it surprised me," she explained, voice higher than usual.

"Right... okay," Holly said, playfully narrowing her eyes. "Whatever you say!"

"I'm telling the truth!" Y/n called after them as they moved on, and she rushed to catch up.

~~~

"Oh, this store is so much better than that last one, look at the range!"

"Holly, have you ever considered working in retail if you stop being an agent?"

"God no, have you heard the horror stories? No thank you."

They were wandering around the third department store of the day when Lucy gasped loudly and practically ran to a rack of clothes.

"This one. This is the one. Oh, look at it! No, no way! It has pockets?! I am in love, and I can die happy!"

"Lucy, what are you actually talking about? Because we can't see it from here," Y/n said, and Lucy turned around with a wide smile on her face as she held up the dress. It was similar to the one she'd worn a while ago, back before Holly had joined and Lockwood and Co were into theft (they needed a book from the Black Library), but Lucy had wanted a new one given the other was slightly worse for wear.

"Oh, Lucy, it's gorgeous," Holly complimented, and Y/n agreed.

"Yeah, seriously Luce. Go and try it on!"

They ushered her into the changing rooms, and while they were waiting Holly and Y/n had a seat on the chairs nearby.

"What are you going to wear?" Holly asked, and Y/n frowned in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"To the ball? What are you going to wear? You are coming with us, aren't you?"

"Uh, I guess I can. I hadn't thought about it, to be honest. I don't think I have anything suitable to wear though."

"Well we've still got time, we can look around for something! Maybe something that will help you confess?" Holly nudged, and Y/n was just about to stop spluttering in protest and defend herself when Lucy walked out.

"Holy shit, Lucy."

"Yeah, holy shit."

"'Holy shit' in a good way or 'holy shit' in a bad way?" she asked, chewing on her lip and smoothing out the fabric.

"Good way," Y/n and Holly replied instantly.

"You look amazing, Luce, honestly," Y/n smiled, and Lucy returned it.

"Definitely that one," Holly agreed.

~~~

Holly had insisted that they keep looking around the store for something for Y/n (Lucy had agreed with Holly that Y/n 'shall go to the ball!' - she'd even declared it like the fairy godmother), and so they spent the next few hours carrying out the same painful process that they had just done with Lucy.

"Y/n? Is that you? It is!"

Y/n froze at the voice, squeezing her eyes shut in the hopes that if she just kept walking then she would be left alone.

"Y/n!"

No chance of that, then, given she'd been taken by the arm and wrapped in a hug that was entirely too fake and smelt incredibly strongly of perfume.

"Steph, hi," Y/n hoped she didn't sound too displeased to see the girl, but then again they'd never been friends, and Steph had always been a bitch to her.

"What are you doing here? I didn't think shopping was your..." she waved her hands at Y/n, "thing." She glanced up and down Y/n's body, raising her eyebrows slightly and smiling too widely.

"Not really, but I prefer it when I'm with my friends and they wanted to go out," she said, trying to figure out an escape route.

"Oh, so you're not getting anything?" Before Y/n could respond, Steph had already started talking again. "Of course you aren't, you couldn't afford it, what with your family having so many people in it."

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Lucy, please don't," Y/n hissed, trying to deter her friend from beating the shit out of her enemy.

"You have no right to talk to her like that, okay? And for your information, she is getting something, and it's going to be a dress that makes her look like the goddess she is, alright? So take your fake brands and irrelevant opinions and shove 'em up your arse!" Lucy ranted, shoving her finger in Steph's direction to emphasise her points. The girl was taken aback for a moment, blinking in shock, then scoffed.

"Whatever. Enjoy your lame dress, Karim. Or whatever your last name is, since we all know that you're adopted." Steph left, her two companions following with a click of their stupidly high heels, and Y/n felt tears start to prick at the corners of her eyes. Lucy was practically growling after them, and Holly had brought Y/n into a proper hug, tight and comforting.

"Well she's a bitch. How d'you know her?"

"School," Y/n sniffed, trying to prevent the tears from falling. "She never liked me for some reason, or maybe I was just easy to pick on because I don't know who my real parents are, but she always made it a point to single me out."

"Right, if she ever comes back I'm punching her."

"Lucy," Y/n berated, although she was laughing a little as she did so.

"I mean it! She's awful! Now, have we looked everywhere in this store?"

"I think so, let's try the next one," Holly said.

"Guys, it's not a big deal, really. Don't let me take up more of your time."

"Y/n, stop being ridiculous. We are finding you a dress and that's that."

"Lucy," Y/n whined as the girl grabbed hold of her arm, Holly taking the other, and led her off out of the store.

~~~

"This one?"

"Hm? No, I don't think so."

"What about this one?"

"God no, I'd look like shit."

"How about-"

"Ew, nope."

Many of their discussions had continued in this manner since leaving the store where Steph had appeared, and Y/n was still trying to find a dress that she loved. There had been many that had looked great, but when she'd tried them on there was something just not quite right, and she'd taken it off with a sigh. Curfew was starting to creep up on the three of them, and Y/n was worried that she'd never find an outfit and have to either go in a potato sack or just not go at all.

"You'll find something, Y/n," Holly said, nudging her shoulder against Y/n's.

"It's not looking very likely though, is it?" Holly didn't say anything, offering a sympathetic smile instead.

"Oh. My. God. Y/n/n, what about this one?" Lucy shouted from across the store (the last one that they hadn't previously looked around). Y/n and Holly giggled at their friend's antics, walking over to see what she wanted them to see. She was holding up a deep red dress, gaping at it with her eyes wide and mouth hanging open like she was a fish. "Ok. No thinking, no questioning, find the dressing room and put this on." Lucy bundled the dress into Y/n's arms and then shoved her in the direction of the changing rooms.

"You sure about this one, Lucy?"

"I'm positive, Holly."

~~~

The two agents were waiting outside for Y/n to appear when George turned up.

"What are you two doing here? Lucy, haven't you already got a dress?"

"Oh, hi George. Yeah, I got one earlier since my other nice dress is kind of old now, but Y/n's trying one on. Why are you here?"

"Apparently my other suit isn't nice enough, so I had to get a new one. Lucky that we've been getting some high paying customers recently that I could afford it."

"When you say your 'other suit', do you mean the one that has plasm stains and holes in it from moths?"

"...Yes."

"She's been in there a while, do you think she needs help?" Holly said after a lull in Lucy and George's conversation.

"I'm fine! Gimme two seconds!" Y/n shouted, and Lucy snickered.

"Wait, why's she trying on a dress?" George frowned, finally registering the fact that his sister was in the changing room.

"Because she's coming with us to the Fittes Ball in a couple of weeks and this girl was being a bitch-"

"Stephanie?"

"Uh- yeah. How'd you know?"

"Y/n complains about her a lot. I think they're arch enemies or something."

"Oh."

"What's she got to do with finding a dress though? Attending the ball makes sense, but where does Steph come into this?"

"Lucy might have shouted that Y/n was going to get a dress that made her look like a goddess," Holly chimed in.

"Ah, I see. So now my sister is... what, trying one on?"

"Yep. You sure you're okay?" Lucy shouted the last part in the direction of a stall, just as Y/n swept back the curtain and stepped out.

"Woah," Lucy and Holly said. George was silent, staring at his sister.

"Good woah or bad woah?" Y/n asked, smiling a little as she remembered Lucy asking a similar thing earlier that day.

"Good woah, for sure," Holly said, Lucy nodding next to her.

"Oh, Georgie. I didn't know you were here," Y/n looked more nervous now, clearly wanting her brother to say something positive.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"Yeah. I do. I really do."

"You look beautiful, Y/n/n."

"Thank you, Georgie."

"Definitely look like a goddess," Lucy added.

~~~

"Lockwood, hi!" Y/n hadn't expected to see him today, but he had just entered the small cafe that she worked in.

"Hi, Y/n/n, how're you?" He looked antsy, like he wanted to know something, and was shifting on his feet.

"I'm alright... you okay? You look like you have a rash," she said, starting to make him a tea the way she knew he liked it.

"Uh- what? No, I don't... I don't have a rash, I just, well, I heard that you're coming to the ball with us next week?"

"Oh, yeah. The girls convinced me to go. We went dress shopping for Lucy last week and Holly told me I should go with you all. You don't mind, do you?"

"No! No, of course I don't mind!"

"Good, 'cause I already got a dress when Lucy got hers, and it was expensive and I need a justification for getting it or Mum'll be mad." She poured the hot water in, careful not to spill any over her hands (it had happened more times today than she'd like to admit), turning and finishing the tea off, placing a lid on the top of the take away cup. She pushed it across the counter, shaking her head when Lockwood pulled out his wallet to pay. "On the house, you look like you need it." He smiled at her, making her heart flutter, and pushed a fiver into the tip jar next to her as he ignored her protests.

"Thank you. Are you going to get changed with the rest of us? Or do you want us to pick you up from yours?"

"Oh, I was gonna get changed with Holly and Lucy. I'll probably come over quite early if that's alright with you?"

"Of course, you know I don't mind having you over, love. Thanks for the tea!" he called out as he left, unaware of Y/n's blush.

~~~

"Why do girls take so long getting ready for things?"

Lockwood looked up at George's words as he entered the kitchen, folding his paper and throwing it on the table. "Not sure. I'm relatively sure they plan world domination while they do it."

"Makes sense," George shrugged, flopping into a chair and pulling at his bow tie. "They have been in Lucy's room for hours now though. Do you think we need to be worried?"

"I hear them laughing every now and then, so they're still alive at least," Lockwood replied. George hummed, pushing his glasses back up his nose. All of a sudden the two boys heard footsteps thundering on the stairs, and a moment later Lucy's head poked through the kitchen door.

"Please make your way into the hall!" she half shouted, not caring that she was only a few metres away from them and disappearing again. Lockwood and George shared a look, then slowly pushed themselves out of their chairs and moved into the hallway to stand in front of the stairs. A few minutes passed, with hushed conversation barely audible from the top of the stairs, and eventually Holly said "Oh, I'll go!" and came downstairs. She looked lovely in her dress, gold fabric shimmering as she took the steps and ended up at the bottom, Lucy following closely behind in her deep blue (a staple colour for the girl), also looking gorgeous. Lockwood frowned slightly when he realised that Y/n wasn't with them, and when her head poked over the bannister with a worried expression he started feeling nervous.

"Guys, are you sure?" she asked, biting her lip. Lucy and Holly nodded, and George gave her a thumbs up.

"Wait," Lockwood started. "Has everybody seen her dress but me?"

"Yep," George said, the girls nodding behind him.

"So why are you so nervous, Y/n/n?" he called up, frowning.

"I don't know!"

"Just come downstairs!" A loud honk sounded from outside then, and the four agents turned to look in the direction of the sound.

"That'll be the cab," Lucy piped up, heading over to the door. "We'll wait for you two," she winked, and Lockwood felt his face heat up. How did she know about his feelings for Y/n?

"Please don't break her heart, Lockwood. Or I'll deliberately throw badly the next time we're on a case."

"George, no offence, but you can't aim anyway. Maybe if you deliberately aimed badly you'd throw it the right way."

"I mean it. Remember what we talked about the other week, and don't screw it up, yeah?" George patted Lockwood's shoulder, grabbing his jacket and heading outside after the girls.

"Lockwood?"

"Yeah?"

"They've all left, haven't they?"

"Yeah." Y/n didn't answer, instead letting out a groan that made Lockwood chuckle.

"Just come downstairs, Y/n/n. We're going to be late."

"Promise you'll be nice?"

"Why would I not be nice?"

"I don't know! Just promise?"

"Okay! I promise!" He was trying to stifle his laughter in the hopes that she wouldn't take it the wrong way when Y/n appeared at the top of the landing and took his breath away. She was stunning, the dress fitting perfectly and making her look ethereal.

"Lockwood? I look terrible, don't I? I'll stay here, you guys go without me-"

"No! No, don't... you look... you look- pretty," he settled on, wincing at his awkwardness. "You look really pretty, Y/n." He didn't miss the way her smile grew, or the way his face warmed, and when she muttered a small 'Thanks' under her breath his heart stuttered. "We should, uh," he cleared his throat. "We should probably... go..." he trailed off, still blushing. She had come closer and now he could smell her perfume, and when she brushed past him to open the door he thought he might faint from the brief physical contact. What was wrong with him? He was Anthony bloody Lockwood, so why was he acting so foolishly around this girl?

"Are you coming, then? Or are you gonna keep standing there like a lemon?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm- yep."

They packed themselves into the taxi, Lockwood stubbornly ignoring Lucy's smirk as the last two available seats for him and Y/n were right next to each other (which he was entirely certain had been planned), thighs pressed together, and a few moments later they were on the road, heading for the Fittes building.

~~~

"Holy shit, this is insane, Lucy," Y/n gasped, staring around the room in wonder. "Lucy?" She looked for her friend, wondering why she hadn't said anything in response, when she saw Lucy talking to a girl.

"That's Maya," Holly whispered, taking Y/n's arm and looping it through her own.

"God, she's gorgeous. I can see why Lucy likes her." Holly hummed her agreement, taking the two of them on a lap of the room.

"Did something happen between you and Lockwood before you got in the taxi?" she asked after a pause.

"What? No, why?" Y/n's eyes were wide, heat creeping up her neck at the memory of him calling her pretty.

"He can't stop staring at you. He looks like an idiot, to be completely honest." Now her eyes were wide for a different reason, turning to find Lockwood's body in the crowd. Sure enough, he was already looking their way, and after a few moments he seemed to realise that he'd been caught, blushing and rejoining the conversation he was having with George and some agent from Rotwell.

"You sure nothing happened?" Holly asked again, eyebrow raised.

"...Yep." The other girl just laughed, clearly not believing her, and dragged her further around the room.

~~~

"You alright, Luce?"

"Not really," she said, slumping into the chair next to Y/n. "Maya's talking to some other girl and I couldn't relate to anything they were saying, so I left."

"Aw, Lucy. You have been talking to her for what, an hour already? You're not going to have everything in common," Y/n reassured her friend, offering a soft smile.

"I s'pose you're right," she started. "That's what makes a good relationship, right?" Lucy was perking up with every word, sitting up in her chair and leaning forward.

"Yeah, like Y/n and Lockwood," Holly chimed in.

"Yeah, Holly's right. Wait, like- what?! What do you mean?! We're not- he's not-" Y/n spluttered, trying desperately to gain control of the situation after the slip-up and failing miserably. Lucy and Holly were doubled over laughing, clearly finding the situation hilarious, when all of a sudden Y/n shot her arms out to either side, grabbing hold of her friends. "No, seriously, stop it now. Look," she pointed towards Lockwood, hoping the girls would pick up on what was wrong.

"Is that-?"

"I'm gonna kick her arse into next fucking we-"

"Fucking Stephanie," Y/n spat, not missing the way that she was flirting with Lockwood. She hadn't realised the bitch was here, but now that she had it was incredibly difficult to take her eyes off of the scene. Now it was her turn to be gloomy, and every attempt to talk to Lockwood ended with Steph's friends (minions) pushing her back and acting like incredibly non-threatening bodyguards, but Y/n didn't want to cause a scene in the middle of a party that she wasn't technically invited to by shoving back.

Roughly an hour and a half after first spotting Stephanie with Lockwood, Y/n was stood with her back to a wall as she miserably looked on at the two of them somehow still engaged in conversation. The worst part was, Steph didn't look like she would be ending their chat anytime soon, and didn't appear to want to leave. Whether the girl knew about his affiliation with Y/n or not, she wasn't sure, but it was making Y/n increasingly more irritated as the night went on.

"Here," Lucy said, appearing at Y/n's side. "Take this." She held her hand out, one of her rings that she always wore sat in the centre of her palm, the sapphire shining up at her from its place in the centre of the band of silver.

"Uh, why?" A frown settled on Y/n's face, unsure where Lucy's mind was going.

"Because you're gonna go up to Lockwood, big smile on your face, and ask Steph why she's fondling your husband." Y/n could only stare at her friend, wondering what the actual hell had come over her.

"But... he's not my husband?"

"She doesn't need to know that, does she? You two are practically an old married couple anyway, so what does it matter? Besides, if nothing else it's an opportunity to cuddle up to him," she said the last part with a wink, making Y/n flush as she remembered the last time she had 'cuddled up' to Lockwood.

"Well, George is over there, he's not going to play along, is he?" she attempted to find a way out of this situation that Lucy had put her in, but the agent had a solution to everything, it seemed.

"Oh, I told him about this. He's promised to go with it. There was absolutely no way I was gonna let your brother be oblivious, he's a terrible liar sometimes." Lucy was still standing with her hand out, ring gleaming up at Y/n, and she had half a mind to say no and continue suffering until she heard a loud laugh come from the other side of the room. Both girls looked for the source, and Y/n bristled when she realised that it was Steph laughing, hand placed firmly on Lockwood's arm as she leaned into him. Not thinking twice, Y/n grabbed the ring, shoved it on her finger, and marched over to where her new fake husband stood. She squeezed between Steph and Lockwood (difficult, since the other girl had practically glued herself to him) and wrapped her arms around his waist, trying to steady her heart as she felt his warmth engulf her.

"Hi, love," she smiled up at him, willing him to stop staring at her with his eyes so wide open in shock and hug her back. He stuttered for a moment, going red, and vaguely Y/n registered Steph's outraged expression in the corner of her eye and George's stifled laughter.

"Uh- hi- hello."

"Y/n? I didn't realise you were going to be here," Steph asked through gritted teeth, obviously annoyed at the interruption.

"Oh, Steph! I didn't see you there! Of course I'm here, why wouldn't I be? My husband got invited and so naturally I was his plus one!" It was petty, she knew, but totally worth it for the look on Steph's face when Y/n emphasised the word 'husband' while smiling lovingly up at Lockwood.

"...Husband?" she asked, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them. Lockwood was still rigid as a pole, although he had brought his arms around Y/n's waist after she pinched him in the side. He leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"I second that. Husband?"

"Oh, did I not tell you?" Lockwood hadn't moved his head away from her ear, instead nuzzling further into her neck, and it was becoming difficult to think straight. "We got married!" She flashed the ring at Steph, delighting in both the pure, unfiltered shock on her face and also the way in which Lockwood had moved his hands to hold her body closer to his.

"Well- I- okay then. But one question, for Lockwood?" He pulled his head up, dopey smile on his face as he nodded for Steph to continue.

"Why would you ever marry someone like her? I mean, you know that she's adopted, right?"

Y/n could practically feel George bristle behind her and get ready to punch Steph's lights out, but Lockwood remained calm, his expression sharpening and spine straightening as he took Steph in.

"I don't see how her not being biologically related to her parents affects how much I love her, do you?"

"It's just that-"

"I married Y/n because of who she is, not because of her family, although having George around is wonderful," Lockwood cast a smile at Y/n's brother before continuing. "She's the most incredible person I have ever met, and she far outshines you in every way and I think you know that, and you're jealous of it. I know that I'm jealous of how incredible you are, darling," he turned to Y/n, using the hand that wasn't around her waist to push back a lock of hair, his fingers lingering for a few moments more than was necessary as he smiled softly at her. "And quite honestly, Steph, if you can't agree with me on that then I don't think we have anything else to talk about, do we?" It was a rhetorical question, Lockwood already turning away and linking his hand with Y/n's as he dragged her to the side of the room, but they could hear Steph spluttering being them as they went.

"So," he started once they were far enough away. "What was that all about?" He hadn't let go of her hand, and his thumb had started softly tracing patterns over their intertwined fingers.

"What?"

"I don't remember marrying you, Y/n, unless it happened when I was really drunk or sleep deprived," he joked, although something in his eyes was searching for any hint of truth to the words in her face.

"I just- she's- I-" Y/n took a breath, trying to figure out how to explain the whole thing to him without him getting mad or laughing at her. "Steph's always hated me, and Lucy knows that-"

"What's Lucy got to do with this?" She huffed at him, small frown appearing on her face.

"If you let me finish then you'd know!"

"Alright! Alright!"

"Yeah, so Lucy knows that Steph hates me, and I hate her, and you two were talking for so long and she was all over you and I couldn't keep watching, so Lucy gave me this ring that I think is actually one of mine that she stole," she frowned down at her hand, going off on a tangent, "and she told me I should go over and say we were married to get rid of Steph."

Lockwood didn't say anything, instead just staring at her with a blank expression, and Y/n looked down at their still linked hands.

"I'm sorry," she whispered after a while.

"Don't be," he whispered back, using his free hand to lift her chin up. "I'm just a little annoyed, to be honest."

"Oh, god, I really am sorry, Lockwood! I didn't mean to make you upset or anything, I just got pissed off with her and-"

"No! No no no, stop right there. I'm not annoyed at you, darling, never you. I'm annoyed at myself for not coming up with that plan earlier. She was really starting to piss me off too, and I kept hoping that George would intervene or something and he never did- I'm going to have to talk to him about that," Lockwood frowned, looking in her brother's direction. "I'm also... I'm annoyed that this is how I tell you that-"

"Here you are! I was wondering where you two had run off to!" George appeared, bright smile on his face, and Y/n couldn't stop the glare that came onto her face. Tell me what? If only George had turned up a few moments later, then she would know what Lockwood wanted to say. "We should probably find the others, party's wrapping up now and I'm craving my bed." Lockwood heaved a sigh, then nodded in agreement, following after George as her brother tried to find Lucy and Holly, casting a slightly pained glance over his shoulder at Y/n.

Tell me what?!

~~~

The journey back to Portland Row was uneventful since everybody was exhausted, although Lucy was practically buzzing in her seat because Maya had passed on her number, telling Lucy to call her.

"This means something, right?" she exclaimed as they piled through the front door. "I have a real chance with her, don't I?"

"Yes, Lucy. Yes you do," Y/n yawned, leaning slightly on Lockwood to take her heels off. Why she'd ever let Holly convince her that heels were needed when she could have worn her trainers instead she wasn't sure, but she breathed a sigh of relief when the first one was finally off. She wobbled for a moment trying to undo the strap on the other one when Lockwood steadied her, crouched down, and took her leg into his hands as his fingers worked the clasp. A few moments later he was done, gently pulling the shoe off of her foot, and although he had only had his hands on her for what couldn't have been more than ten seconds Y/n could feel her cheeks heating up and her heart beating faster.

"Lockwood, what the fuck are you doing?"

"George, they're having a moment, alright? Leave 'em alone," Lucy hissed, taking him by the arm and dragging him upstairs, hushed apologies whispered as he tripped and face planted due to her harsh tugging.

"Good night you two, I'll see you in the morning," Holly said, following after her coworkers and leaving Y/n and Lockwood in the entrance hall alone for the second time in the last twenty-four hours.

"You're not going to bed, are you?" Y/n asked, a knowing smile on her face as she looked at Lockwood. He shrugged, heading towards the library instead of up the stairs.

"I'm not feeling too tired, to be honest," he replied.

"You never feel tired, I swear. Do you ever sleep?" She mock gasped. "Are you a vampire? Is that why you're so pale and are always awake at night?" She broke off into a fit of giggles, exhaustion making her mildly hyper.

"No, I am not a vampire," Lockwood laughed, shaking his head at her antics. "Go on, you should head up. Unlike me you can't run on tea and tea alone."

Y/n nodded, heading for the stairs, but stopped a little way up as she remembered something. "Lockwood?"

He paused in the doorway of the library, turning to face her with one hand still on the handle. "Yeah?"

"What were you gonna tell me before George came over? At the ball? You said you were annoyed that it took you so long to tell me something." A frown had worked its way onto her face, but Lockwood's was filled with a smile.

"Go to bed, darling. I'll see you in the morning." He disappeared into the library, leaving Y/n standing on the staircase staring at the place he had just been.

~~~

The next morning Y/n woke to an empty room, Lucy and Holly nowhere to be seen in the attic. She laid in bed for a little while, soaking in not having to get up and go to work, but eventually the need for food grew too strong and she was forced to start her day.

The kitchen was empty of George, too, and a short investigation led to finding a scribbled note on the thinking cloth that Holly, Lucy and George had gone for a grocery run at the supermarket. That left Lockwood, who was either hiding away in the house or had gone off on his own somewhere. Y/n's question was answered a few minutes later as she was pouring hot water into a mug for tea, and she nearly spilled the liquid all over her hands when Lockwood appeared and asked her to pour a cup for him.

"Shitting hell, Lockwood! Where did you come from?"

"Oh, I was downstairs. Doing a spot of rapier practice. Thanks," he gratefully accepted the mug that Y/n handed him, smiling brightly at her over the edge. She tried desperately to ignore the flush to his skin (and the mental images of Lockwood training), and turned back to her own mug of tea, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment in the hopes that she could go back to thinking normal thoughts. "You alright?"

"Hm? Oh, yes! Yeah, yep. I'm fine," she exclaimed, wincing at how the words came out. Lockwood stifled a snort (unsuccessfully) and took a sip of tea, yelping a moment later.

"Shit, that's hot!"

"Why wouldn't it be? You idiot!" Y/n was laughing fully, not bothering to hide how amusing she found the whole situation, and Lockwood was glaring at her from where he stood fanning his mouth. "You literally watched me pour boiling water into that like, a minute ago!"

"I know! I know! Stop laughing, will you? I feel bullied. I'm being bullied."

He took a glass out of the cupboard, filling it up with cold water from the tap and taking a long drink. They stood in silence for a while after that, Lockwood taking tentative sips of his tea while Y/n took large gulps, trying not to laugh at him when the memory of his reaction came back. They were very rarely alone in the house, with at least one other person somewhere and about to walk in, and Y/n decided that Lockwood had nowhere to go so she might as well corner him.

"Why didn't you answer me last night? When I asked what you wanted to tell me?"

He froze momentarily, the tips of his ears going pink as he hid behind his mug and scratched at the back of his head. "It doesn't matter, Y/n/n. Really."

"Well it matters to me, Lockwood. If nothing else the not knowing is killing me. Also I had just dragged you into a marriage with me, and while I do feel bad about that I also feel that you owe me this as well."

"You didn't drag me into a marriage, you surprised me with one," he joked, clearly stalling.

"Okay, fine, but seriously what were you going to say before my idiot brother came over?"

"I was just... going to say that..." he mumbled the last part, all the words smushed together and said quietly so that Y/n had trouble picking them out.

"Sorry, I genuinely could not hear you for the life of me Lockwood," her expression was apologetic, and he sighed through his nose as he looked up at the ceiling, closing his eyes before making a decision.

"I was going to say that I was annoyed that it took me so long to tell you that I love you."

"I love you too, Lockwood," Y/n frowned, wondering why he looked so beaten up about it. The five of them often told each other that they loved them, the words thrown around casually all the time.

"No, I mean- I love you, Y/n. To the point that George punches me in the arm sometimes because I won't shut up about how amazing or funny or kind or smart you are."

"Oh."

"Yeah." He hesitated for a few seconds, then spoke up again. "If you don't... I don't want this to ruin our friendship if you don't feel the same way though."

"Why wouldn't I feel the same?"

"You haven't said anything and it's- it's freaking me out!"

"Well I do feel the same! I'm just also freaking out because you love me too!"

"We're a mess, aren't we?" Lockwood laughed.

"Absolutely."

"So- So if I asked you on a date... would you-"

"Yes. Sorry, I- you can finish."

"I mean I think I got my answer, to be honest." He smiled softly at Y/n, placing his mug down and slowly coming over to where she leaned against the countertop. She reached her arms up and draped them around his neck, bringing him into a hug, and his own hands found their way to her waist. His eyes flicked between hers and her lips, and then he was whispering "Can I kiss you?" and leaning in when she nodded, pressing his lips to hers gently. They didn't rush, taking their time as they kissed softly, Lockwood's fingers brushing the skin just under her jumper and Y/n's fingers tangling in his hair, and when they pulled away for air they stayed close, foreheads bumping against each other.

~~~

When Holly, Lucy and George got home just over an hour later, arms laden with shopping bags, the silence was deafening.

"I really hope they haven't killed each other," Holly frowned, peering up the stairs as if doing so would help her find their missing friends.

"Maybe they've finally got together and are on a date," Lucy exclaimed, poking George in the side when he wouldn't move out of the way of the cupboard that she needed to open.

"Ow! I'm torn about that. On the one hand if they do get together I'll be glad they've stopped pining, on the other they'll be insufferable. You know what Lockwood's like, all lovey-dovey and attention giving, and Y/n will soak it up like a dry sponge."

"Oh, I found them!" Holly poked her head through the kitchen door, neither Lucy or George having noticed her leave. She lead them to the library, motioning for quiet as she pushed the door open. "They must have been reading and got tired. They totally confessed, just look at them!"

Lockwood and Y/n were curled up (somehow) on the larger of the two armchairs in the library, limbs entangled and hanging off of the arms and a book dangled in Lockwood's free hand, the other wrapped around Y/n keeping her safely tucked into his chest as the two of them slept. George looked like he was trying to be upset, but Lucy could see the smile he was holding off at the sight in front of them.

"We should leave them to it, I s'pose," Lucy murmured, pulling the door shut softly with a small click. "You alright, George?"

"Just thinking about how horrible things will be with them finally together," he replied, rolling his eyes and heading back into the kitchen to start dinner.

"He's not really upset, is he," Holly said, more stating it as a fact than posing a question.

"Nope. He's gonna be singing while he cooks, I can guarantee it."

Sure enough, barely five seconds after Lucy said the words, singing could be heard from behind the closed kitchen door alongside the clash of pots and pans.

#lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood & co #idiots in love

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lumosandnoxwriting · 27 days

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carve your name into my bedpost || George Weasley

Title: carve your name into my bedpost Pairing: George x Reader Summary: George is on the cusp of getting everything he’s ever wanted. His plan has been working swimmingly, and as every day goes by he and his fake fiancé edge closer and closer to being something real. Which is a good thing considering George is running out of time. The season is getting closer and closer, and Coach has finally made a decision about the next Captain of the team. George is either about to have it all, the girl and the career he’s been working towards; or he’ll be left broken hearted. Only time can tell. Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI! This includes vagina; sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk and begging. A/N: yay here it is! The next part of hockey!george. I love him so much I’m not ready for him to be over! As always feedback is welcome and appreciated <3

When George wakes up the next morning Y/N is still in his arms and he’s never felt more at peace. He presses his nose to the top of her head and his eyes flutter closed as he takes a deep inhale of the floral scent of her shampoo. Of course his sheets have started to smell like Y/N, and his shower too, but there’s something so intoxicating about smelling her signature scent straight from the source.

In high school they somehow managed to convince their parents that allowing them to have sleepovers was safer than them sneaking out to go off and fool around somewhere, and as he pulls Y/N in closer to his chest George is reminded of those simpler times. Back then everything seemed so easy, he was on his way to being one of the top draft prospects and he was deeply in love with the woman he knew was his forever. He never in his wildest dreams could have imagined that he and Y/N didn’t make it, and now the only reason why she’s in his bed is because of some plan he cooked up that requires her to be his fake fiancé.

No, back then George imagined that by now they would be married, with at least one child and a dog to keep an eye on them while he’s out on the road. After he made that stupid mistake and ended things with Y/N all George’s dreams of a wife and kids flew out the window. If he couldn’t have that future with her he had no interest in it.

Now that he’s got her back in his life? He’s not stopping until they’re living the life they always dreamed of. Having her in his arms only solidifies how much he still loves her and how much he needs to have her in his life permanently.

Because this apartment never really felt like home until he had Y/N to share it with.

She starts to wake then, and George squeezes her waist and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Good morning, baby,” he murmurs, his voice still gravely from sleep.

Y/N lets out a sleepy grunt and burrows her face deeper into George’s neck. “Morning,” she mumbles into his skin.

One of George’s hands sneaks up her back, fingers trailing against her skin lightly as they move. He doesn’t stop until his fingers are tangled in the hair on the back of her head, nails gently scratching at her scalp. A shiver rolls down his spine when she moans, and George wants to bottle that sound up to take with him on the road.

“We’re both off of work today,” he starts, kissing the top of her head. “And we don’t have any plans until the team dinner tonight at Coach’s, which means we’ve got the whole day to ourselves. What do you wanna do?”

She lets out a hum, her lips pressing a kiss to George’s skin. “Doesn’t matter to me, as long as we do it together.”

Today and everyday until the end of time, George promises silently.

They ended up barely even leaving the bedroom. After staying cuddled together until the sound of Y/N’s grumbling stomach got too loud to ignore, George slipped out of bed to make them breakfast which they ate together under the covers. Once they were done Y/N picked her book up off of the night stand, so George grabbed his playbook and they just sat there together, silently reading. Once it was time for lunch they finally got up, but they only made it as far as the living room. They ordered from a place down the block and they ate together on the couch while watching a movie.

It wasn’t until they had to start getting ready for dinner did they separate, not that either of them really wanted to.

In fact they’ve just walked into Coach Morris’ house and Y/N is already counting down the seconds until they can go home and cuddle in bed. She’d even been tempted to ask George if they really needed to come tonight, but she knows this means a lot to him and she’s actually looking forward to spending some more time with his teammates and their partners.

It doesn’t hurt that the dress code is formal and George looks divine in his custom tailored suit.

George leads them over to where Thomas and Adam are standing with their girlfriends, his arm curled around Y/N’s waist to keep her plastered to his side.

“Ah look, hockey’s royal couple decided to finally grace us with their presence,” Thomas teases as they approach, earning him a glare from George and a slap on the shoulder from Olivia.

“Don’t make fun of George just because he did what you’re too much of a pussy to do,” Olivia responds, making them all laugh at the flush coats over Thomas’ cheeks.

“We never even asked last night,” Jenny starts, taking a sip of her drink. “How did George pop the big question? I bet it was super romantic, we all thought he was such a commitment phobe, but I knew he was a big softie. He just needed the right girl to bring it out.”

Nerves bubble in the pit of George’s stomach, out of all the things they talked about they never constructed a back story on the actual proposal. He spares a quick glance at Y/N, figuring she’ll be scrambling just like him. So he’s surprised to see a smile on her face.

“It was simple,” Y/N explains, shrugging her shoulders. “But it was perfect. Everything I would have wanted.” She pauses, looking up at George with a bright smile. “He did it at the ice rink where we met when we were six, and where we went on our first date in middle school. Had our first kiss there too. Basically everything important that ever happened to us happened in that ice rink.”

“And it’s where I broke up with her,” George adds, immediately cutting off the aws some of their audience were in the middle of. Apparently Y/N’s story had attracted the attention of others and they now have quite the crowd, including Coach Morris and his wife. “Also known as the biggest fucking mistake I’ve ever made.”

“You were young, and dumb and scared,” Y/N adds, easing George’s discomfort. “It’s also where we saw each other again for the first time in eight years.”

George chuckles as he remembers that moment from a few weeks ago. “Yeah and you ripped into me so hard I would have preferred skating suicides until I threw up.”

“You deserved it,” she responds, making their crowd laugh. “I was mad, but looking at you standing there did nothing but remind me how much I still love you.” The honesty in her voice punches a hole in George’s gut. “So when he told me that I was the only woman in the world he could even imagine wearing his ring? How could I say no?”

When she looks up at him again George can’t help himself and he leans down, kissing her softly. Her left hand comes up to rest on his cheek, and George feels his chest swell with pride at her subtle way of showing off the ring he put there.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Coach’s gruff voice calls out, forcing George to pull away from Y/N’s mouth. “Let’s eat.”

While the dinner plates are being cleared away and before dessert is brought out Coach stands up, silently motioning George to follow him out of the room. George sighs, tossing the napkin that was covering his lap onto the table before he leans over to press a kiss to Y/N’s forehead.

“Be right back, baby,” he murmurs before standing up and following after Coach Morrison.

Once the two men have disappeared Olivia is sliding into his empty seat while Jenny and Kate, the wife of one of the defenseman, slide up behind them. When none of the women say anything Y/N shifts her gaze between them.

“What? You guys are kind of creeping me out.”

Olivia grins, waving away her concern. “Sorry, not our intention. We said it the other night at the bar, but we just wanted to say again how happy we are for you and George.”

“Yeah. I’ve never seen him this happy,” Kate adds, briefly squeezing Y/N’s shoulder. “Normally he’d be sitting in a corner pouting at these things. And the way he was looking at you at family skate yesterday? I would have melted if my husband looked at me like that.”

“Really?” Y/N asks, a light blush coating her cheeks.

Jenny nods in agreement. “And how he watched you tell the story of your engagement? That boy is straight up obsessed with you.”

“Seriously, his heart eyes were so big people on the international space station could have seen them,” Olivia adds.

Y/N takes a deep breath, trying desperately to quell her pounding heart. Of course she’s felt the shift in her and George’s dynamic over the last week or so, but to have her thoughts confirmed by those around them? It’s validating as fuck. Not only is their plan to convince everyone that they are fake engaged working, but her plan to get George to fall in love with her for real seems to be as well.

“I can’t even believe that he broke up with you,” Kate says frowning. “Before he said that I thought he’d just been keeping you from us all these years.”

“He was young and dumb,” Y/N explains again, shrugging her shoulders. “And really, I should have fought harder for us. I knew something was wrong, but I just walked away. We’re both to blame for what happened back then.”

“If you ladies are done,” George teases, suddenly appearing behind them. “I’d like to have my fiancé,” he pauses, glaring down at Olivia. “And my seat back.”

With sheepish grins the girls vacate, and Y/N blushes as George sits back down. His arm immediately wraps around her shoulders and she leans in to his touch.

“How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough,” George answers with a grin.

Her blush deepens, and George chuckles as he kisses the side of her head. He knew eavesdropping on their conversation was wrong, but when he came up and heard them talking about him he couldn’t resist. The lines of this fake relationship have been blurred for weeks, and George was not about to pass up an opportunity to find out how Y/N feels about that.

So to hear that she’s truly forgiven him for what happened back then is like a balm that soothes his soul. There would be no chance he’d get her to fall in love with him again if she still harbored any negative feelings about their past. The fact that she not only has forgiven him, but has taken some of the blame as well can only mean one thing: he’s one step closer to getting what he wants.

“So what did Coach want?” Y/N asks, desperately wanting to change the conversation.

“Nothing important,” George answers nonchalantly. “He just wanted to let me know that he’s noticed how much I’ve changed on and off the ice since being with you, and that my effort to step up hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

Before Y/N can ask about the Captain situation a plate with the biggest brownie she’s ever seen is dropped off in front of her. George leans in, and the brush of his lips against her ear sends a shiver down her spine.

“Now be a good girl and eat your dessert so I can take you home and have you all to myself.”

She immediately digs in, not needing to be told twice.

When she wakes up the next morning George is already gone. But considering tonight is their first preseason game she isn’t surprised. Hockey players have always been superstitious, and George is no exception to that rule. He’d warned her the night before that she wouldn’t see him until after the game tonight, and while Y/N had been disappointed, she understood. With the possibility of being named Captain still up in the air, George’s dedication to the team is more important than ever, and she knows he’s doing everything in his power to step up and be a role model for the others.

Thankfully she has a full day of work to distract her from George’s absence, and she’s so busy thinking about what she has to do that she doesn’t notice the gift waiting for her on the kitchen island until she decides to take her lunch break in the afternoon.

There’s a neatly wrapped box that’s just begging to be opened, but she stops to read the note George left for her next to it.

Can’t wait to see you tonight. When I find you in the crowd you better be wearing this

Love, George :)

Y/N can’t contain the smile that spreads across her face as she excitedly tears into the wrapping paper, already knowing what’s waiting for her. Sure enough when she lifts the top off of the box there’s a Rebels jersey neatly folded up, and it doesn’t take a genius to guess what last name she’ll find written across the back.

A waft of George’s cologne comes off of the fabric when she lifts it up, sending a shiver down her spine as her thighs clench. Not only is George claiming her with his name, but with his scent as well. There won’t be a doubt in anyone’s mind who put that ring on her finger when she steps into the arena tonight, and it gives Y/N a thrill knowing that was George’s intention.

She puts the jersey back in the box, pulling out her phone to send a text to George.

Y/N: thank you for the gift. Good luck tonight <3

It’s not until a few hours later, when Y/N is getting ready to leave that she gets a response.

George: you’re welcome, baby - im counting down the hours until i get to see my last name on your back

George: and i don’t need luck when i’ve got you in the crowd cheering me on

His words send a thrill through Y/N and she has to take several deep breaths to calm down. She’s already amped up from the anticipation of seeing George out on the ice for the first time in years, and his text has only brought it up tenfold.

Luckily Olivia’s text letting her know that she’s here to pick her up comes through, breaking Y/N from her thoughts of what her and George might get up to after the game. Because if it’s anything like they used to do in high school, the jersey she’s wearing won’t be staying on for long.

The family suite is already starting to fill up when Y/N, Olivia and Jenny show up, even though there’s still an hour until puck drop. Olivia has insisted they get there in time to watch warm ups, and the idea of watching George practically hump the ice as he stretches was too enticing to pass up.

“C’mon, let’s grab seats up by the glass. I want a front row look at Thomas’ ass in those hockey pants,” Olivia declares with a waggle of her eyebrows.

“Do you ever get jealous that your boyfriend has a better ass than you?” Jenny asks as they weave their way through the crowd towards the front of the box. Both girls laugh at her comment, and Jenny just shrugs her shoulders. “C’mon, we’re all thinking it. I was just brave enough to say it.”

“George does have a nice ass,” Y/N agrees as they claim three seats. “But every time I tell him he just responds by saying how nice my ass is, so no, I’ve never been jealous.”

Olivia laughs so loudly the people surrounding turn to look and Jenny takes the opportunity to slap Y/N on the ass.

“Fuck you, bitch,” Jenny responds, though there’s no malice in her voice. “That’s because you actually have an ass. I swear it looks like I have a piece of cardboard down the back of my pants.”

“And yet two weeks ago Adam ran into a wall because he was two busy watching your ass to pay attention to where he was going,” Olivia reminds her. “It doesn’t matter how much junk is in your trunk as long as your man appreciates what you’ve got.”

All three women agree on that, and they leave their bags on their seats so they can mingle and grab some food and drinks before the action starts. By the time they make it back for warmups the suite is full, and Y/N is practically on the edge of her seat as the players make their way out onto the ice.

Her eyes immediately find George and she watches in rapt awe as he effortlessly moves across the ice. Of course George has always been an amazing player, but it’s clear his time in the NHL has only sharpened his skills, and Y/N is filled with pride as he takes a shot on goal and the puck hits the back of the net with such ease it’s like it took no effort at all.

But then he drops down to the ice to stretch, and Y/N is filled with something else as she watches his knees spread. He bounces up and down slightly as he stretches his hamstrings, and Y/N is practically drooling. Something as innocent as stretching looks downright erotic, and her mind whirls as she imagines laying underneath George while he does those moves.

“You know, I think I get the whole puck bunny thing,” Y/N says suddenly, her eyes still drawn to the way George moves as he starts to skate around again. Her attraction to George never had anything to do with him being a hockey player, the big muscles and brute strength were just kind of an added bonus.

But after watching those big, broad men practically give a magic mike show she can understand why there’s a whole genre of women who’s only goal in life is to fuck as many hockey player as possible. Because god damn, if George wasn’t already coming home with her tonight she’d be formulating a plan to get that man in her bed.

“Same,” Jenny agrees, her voice breathy.

“Is it inappropriate to admit you’re horny while sitting in a room full of people?” Olivia asks, breaking the girls from their trance as they laugh.

“Probably,” Y/N answers, finally tearing her gaze away from the ice as the players head back to the locker room. “But if it’s wrong, well then, I don’t wanna be right.”

Even though it’s only preseason, the game is intense from the first whistleblow. The Rebels are playing the team they’d lost to in the playoffs last season, and from her conversations with George Y/N knows the guys are out for blood. They want every team in the league to know that they’re primed and ready, and they’ll do whatever it takes to make it all the way to the Cup.

The first period is winding down without a score from either team, and Y/N is practically holding her breath as George jumps over the boards to rejoin the game for his next shift. His skates are barely on the ice when Adam passes him the puck, and George takes off towards the other teams’ net.

He passes the puck to Jason, the right wing who was recently promoted to first line, landing it against his stick with ease. George manages to deke around Tampa’s defenseman and he slaps his stick against the ice to signal Jason to pass the puck back.

The second the puck hits his stick George repositions himself and fires it off, and it feels like the entire room is silent as they watch it sail right over the shoulder of Tampa’s goalie and slam into the back of the net.

The suite erupts into cheers as the buzzer rings out, and the girls are shouting as they jump up and down in celebration. George’s teammates on the ice all crowd around him, but as they separate George turns in the direction of the suite, and Y/N swears their eyes connect as he raises his stick, pointing it directly at her.

“What’s he saying?” Olivia leans in to ask as they all watch his mouth move.

And even though Y/N can’t make out the words, she knows without a doubt what George has just said. Because since their relationship began in middle school he’s done the exact same thing after every single goal.

“That was for you,” she answers, voice tight with emotion.

“He dedicated his goal to you? That’s so fucking cute,” Olivia squeals. “Thomas never dedicates his goals to me.”

“That’s because he’s the fucking goalie, Liv,” Jenny huffs.

Y/N ignores the argument that proceeds, too busy watching George battle Tampa’s center for the puck after the face off. She’s in awe that not only did George remember their tradition, but he just did it live on national television in front of a packed audience.

All her fears that George’s blatant display of affection was just a fluke, that he was just caught up in the moment are completely erased in the third period, when after scoring the game winning goal George shakes off his teammates so that he can raise his stick to Y/N and do it again.

After the game the girl’s had met their men outside of the locker room, and when George took Y/N into his arms he’d whispered that he wouldn’t mind missing out on the celebration and he’d take her home instead. And of course Y/N had been tempted, after watching him on the ice all night and dedicating his two goals to her she was more than ready to get him alone.

But the guys who already trickled out of the locker room were calling George’s name, and Y/N knows how important it is for George to be there for the guys both on and off the ice as he strives to be captain.

So instead they’re at Maynards, which after the team’s win is practically at capacity. Fans and puck bunnies are everywhere and Y/N can’t help but feel bothered by their presence. George is hanging out by the pool tables with his team while Y/N has been sitting at the bar with Olivia and Jenny, and every few minutes she can feel her eyes trailing over to him to make sure the women in the bar are keeping their distance.

This is totally new territory for Y/N, and she hates how insecure she feels. When she and George were together before puck bunnies weren’t a concern. George was so focused on his dreams of the NHL and their relationship that he didn’t ever go out with the guys on the team. After a home game he’d end up snuggled in bed with Y/N, and after an away game he locked himself in his hotel room to call her.

It doesn’t help that she knows George has been one to indulge in puck bunnies in the past, not that she judges him for it at all. He was free to do whatever and whoever he wanted while they were broken up. But now they’re in this really weird space. They’re not really together, and George certainly could leave this bar with Y/N and then meet up with some random girl later. She doesn’t think he would do that anyway, considering how well things have been going with them and he didn’t even want to go out in the first place.

But it’s easy to feel insecure when you’re surrounded by beautiful women whose only goal is to get your fiancé in bed.

“Do they ever bother you?” Y/N asks, gesturing around the bar. “All of the girls?”

“Hell yes,” Olivia answers honestly. “Mostly because a lot of the girls don’t give a shit if the player they’re after is in a relationship or not. Like I don’t care if you’re just trying to find some good dick, but at least stick to girl code.”

“Tell me about it,” Jenny adds. “One time a girl tried to stick her hand down Adam’s pants while I was sitting on his lap. Like bitch, read the fucking room.”

Y/N shakes her head in disbelief. “Jesus, that’s crazy. So how are you guys so calm sitting over here while the guys are on their own? Especially knowing the lengths some will go to sleep with a hockey player.”

“Trust,” Olivia answers simply and Jenny nods in agreement. “Do you trust George?”

“With my life,” Y/N responds without hesitation.

Olivia shrugs, smiling at Y/N. “Then let the puck bunnies try and get him into bed. Because you know that the only girl he’ll actually be going home with is you.”

Her words do quell some of the nerves rattling around Y/N’s stomach, and she takes another sip of her drink, immersing herself into Olivia and Jenny’s conversation. She even keeps herself from checking on George, trusting that Olivia was correct. Y/N doesn’t have to trust all of those women to stay away from George, she has to trust that George would never give some puck bunny a second glance.

Several minutes later Y/N and Jenny are talking about work when Olivia comes back from the bathroom with a weird look on her face.

“Okay, remember all that shit I said earlier about trust and puck bunnies and whatever.” There’s apprehension in her voice, and all Y/N can manage is a curt nod. “Okay well fuck all of that shit because there’s some puck bunny rubbing all over George and I think you need to go stake your claim on your man.”

Y/N swivels in her seat and anger rises in her throat at what she sees. Sure enough George is leaning against the side of a pool table, and there’s a bottle blonde pressing up against him, one of her hands twirling a piece of her hair while the other rests on George’s shoulder. To be fair to George he’s not touching her at all, one of his hands is gripping a beer bottle while the other rests on the pool table and Y/N can tell by the look on his face that he’s wildly uncomfortable and trying to find some way out of the interaction.

Jealousy quickly overtakes the anger as the puck bunny trails her hand up George’s neck to tangle her fingers in his hair, and before Y/N knows what she’s doing she’s up out of her seat and heading across the bar. Like hell if she’s gonna stand there while some random woman touches what belongs to her. Over her dead fucking body.

Like they’re tied together by an invisible string, George’s eyes snap to Y/N’s as she approaches and a look of relief takes over his features.

“Hey baby,” he greets, and when the woman looks over at Y/N George uses the distraction to push her to the side. “Are you ready to go?”

In lieu of answering his question Y/N shoves herself into the small space separating George from the puck bunny, wrapping one arm around his waist as the other grips his neck and she pulls him down into a kiss. She moans as George kisses her back, but she doesn’t relinquish control. Because this isn’t just a kiss, it’s a message. Y/N wants all of the bunnies to know that George belongs to her, and their days of coaxing him into their bed are over.

When the need to breathe becomes too overwhelming Y/N finally breaks their kiss, but the grip she has on George’s neck keeps their faces close together.

“Take me home?” she asks, just loud enough so the woman who is still hovering nearby can hear.

George is sure that the flicker of lust in Y/N’s eyes is reflected in his own, and he gives her a curt nod. “Of course, baby. It’s time for us to go to bed.”

Too bad sleep is the last thing on George’s mind.

George has her pressed up against the front door as soon as it’s closed behind them.

Neither of them said a word on the drive home, the air was so thick with want they were too afraid words might ruin what was bound to happen once they were home. Because that kiss at the bar was unlike any of the ones they’d shared since this arrangement started, it shattered the line between fake and real that they’ve been skating around for weeks and now there’s no going back.

George has his mouth on Y/N before she even has a chance to breathe. His teeth nip at her bottom lip before his tongue soothes it, hand gripping the back of her neck to angle her head in order to kiss her even deeper. His kiss is possessive, claiming her just as her kiss at the bar had claimed him, and Y/N is sure that without George’s body holding her to the door she’d be a puddle on the ground.

“I can’t fucking get enough of you, baby,” George growls into her skin as his lips kiss and nip down her neck. “I’m fucking addicted to you, Y/N. Your smell, your taste, the fucking noises you make for me.”

“George,” Y/N gasps as his teeth dig into the flesh at the juncture of her neck, his lips sucking hard enough to leave a bruise that is sure to last for weeks.

“My name sounds so good coming from those lips, baby.”

George recaptures her mouth, using the hand that’s not still gripping the back of Y/N’s neck to grab a hold of her thigh. He hitches it up around his hip and does the same to her other leg before placing his hand under Y/N’s ass for support.

She breaks their kiss as George starts to carry them down the hall, her teeth nipping at the skin of his jaw before her lips soothe the pain with soft kisses. As he pushes into their bedroom Y/N’s nose finds the base of his throat and her eyes flutter shut as she takes a deep inhale of his scent. It’s his cologne mixed with something Y/N can only describe as George, and its familiarity instantly soothes any nerves she may have.

It’s a stark reminder that this is George, her George, and she knows no matter what is about to happen she’s in good hands.

George chuckles as Y/N takes another deep breath and he sets her down gently on the end of their bed. “Do I smell bad or something? I promise I showered.”

His tease breaks some of the tension, and Y/N bites her lip as she looks up at George, shaking her head fondly. “Not at all, I was just thinking about how so much has changed and yet you still smell the same.”

George’s hand finds the back of Y/N’s neck again, thumb rubbing circles against the side of her throat. “You gave me that cologne, for Christmas, freshman year of high school. I’ve worn it every day since because it reminds me of you.”

Before Y/N has a chance to respond George is leaning in to kiss her again and she’s thankful for the distraction, since she’s definitely not in the headspace to be uncking that. Nope, George’s revelation will have to wait until tomorrow, when he isn’t kissing her breathless and her cunt isn’t soaking the inside of her thighs.

He pushes her up the bed as they kiss, crawling so that his body covers Y/N’s once he has her laying back against the pillows. Her thighs spread wide, making room for George’s broad frame to settle between them. His cock, hard and pressing against the zipper of his jeans, presses right against her pussy and George just barely grinds his hips to make them both moan.

“Tell me now if you want me to stop,” George pants as he breaks their kiss. He keeps his eyes focused on Y/N’s, needing to see that she wants this just as much as him. “If you don’t want this to happen tell me now and I’ll walk away and take the coldest fucking shower known to man.”

Y/N returns George’s gaze as her fingers twist in the hair on the back of his head and she gives the strands a sharp tug. “Please, George. I need you.”

That’s all the confirmation George needs, making quick work of their clothes. He kisses every inch of skin he reveals to the point that Y/N is writhing underneath him and her pussy throbs, begging for attention.

Her panties are the last thing to go, and as soon as she’s bare George’s fingers find her slit, dragging through the wetness before lightly circling her clit.

“Oh fuck,” Y/N gasps, hips eagerly pushing into George’s touch. “I’m so ready for you George, please.”

George sinks two fingers into her, cock twitching at the way her cunt sucks them in. He curls his fingers, drawing a moan from Y/N’s lips as they brush against her g-spot. “Fuck, baby. I wanted to take my time but I need to be inside of you.”

He sucks the fingers that were just inside Y/N clean, groaning around the digits as he tastes her for the first time in years. “Fuck, you taste,” he trails off, making Y/N whine impatiently.

“Like what?” she pants, dragging George’s mouth to hers so she can kiss him.

“Like mine,” George growls into their kiss, dipping his tongue into Y/N’s mouth so she can taste herself too.

When he goes to reach for a condom Y/N stops him, intertwining their fingers. “I’m clean, and on birth control so you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“Shit,” George groans, his head dropping so his forehead rests against her’s. “You’re telling me I can fuck you bare?”

“Please,” Y/N confirms with a nod. “I wanna feel you, all of you.”

Any fear George had about Y/N not wanting him the way he wants her has been thrown out of the window. She’s the only woman he’s ever forgone a condom with, and it’s going to stay that way if he has anything to say about it.

“How can I say no when you ask so nicely?” he teases, notching the tip of his cock against her pussy. He thrusts his hips gently, making them both moan as he coats himself in her slick. “I’m clean too,” he confirms, nudging his nose against her’s. “You’re the only person I’ve never used anything with.”

Something so simple makes her heart soar, and Y/N tips her chin up so George will kiss her. Knowing that she’s about to have George in a way no other woman has is intoxicating. No matter how many women he’s fucked, Y/N is the only one that he has given all of himself to, further confirming what she’s suspected for days.

Whatever is going on between them has turned into something real, and it’s looking like a real possibility that George loves her too.

“Oh my god,” Y/N moans as George finally starts to slowly push inside, her legs wrapping around his waist to encourage him to move faster. “You feel so fucking good, George, please.”

George groans as Y/N’s cunt pulses around him, her tight heat making his eyes roll to the back of his head. “Jesus christ, you’re so fucking tight baby. This pretty fucking pussy is choking my cock.”

When he’s halfway in his hips suddenly pull back, and the whine Y/N lets out quickly turns into a moan when George suddenly fucks back into her, not stopping until his thighs are pressed against the back of her’s and he’s buried inside of her completely.

His cock presses right against her g-spot, and Y/N feels electric zips of pleasure radiating through her body despite the fact that George has yet to move. Her muscles squeeze around him, and George buries a groan into her neck.

“Fuck, baby. I need a second or I’m going to cum way to fucking soon,” he growls, nipping at her neck. “Your pussy is so fucking tight it’s driving me insane.”

Y/N squirms underneath him, desperately trying to get him to move. “Please George, ‘m so fucking full of your cock, it feels so good. I need you to move.”

“Good fucking girl, begging for me” George praises as he finally starts to thrust, drawing a long, breathy moan from Y/N’s lips. Her pussy clenches as the praise, and George drives his hips even harder. “You like being my good girl, don’t you baby?”

“Yes,” Y/N gasps, her back arching as she starts to meet George’s thrusts. “Wanna be your good girl, George, please.”

George rests all of his weight onto his left arm and presses his thumb against Y/N’s mouth. “Be a good girl and suck my thumb, baby. Get it nice and wet so I can touch your pussy.”

She immediately complies, taking the digit between her lips and sucking hard. Her tongue wraps around it, getting it nice and soaked so George will finally touch her throbbing clit.

“Good girl,” he praises again as his thumb slips from her mouth. He immediately presses it to her clit, rubbing circles into the sensitive bud in time with his thrusts.

Y/N’s toes curl where they rest against George’s back, the familiar tingle in the pit of her stomach already building brighter as he inches her closer and closer to her orgasm. “I’m so fucking close, George, please.”

George readjusts so one of Y/N’s legs is slung over his shoulder, allowing him to fuck back into her even deeper. “Go on, baby. Soak my fucking cock with your cum.”

It only takes a few more thrusts before Y/N is falling over the edge, thighs trembling as pleasure rocks through her body. George’s name falls from her mouth before he kisses her, swallowing every single noise she makes so that he can keep it for himself.

“Fuck I’m close,” George growls when their kiss breaks, the way Y/N’s cunt pulses around him driving him towards the edge of his own climax. “Gonna cum inside you, baby. Claim this fucking cunt because it’s mine. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Yes, yours George, please.” Y/N grabs George’s chin so he can’t look away. “Cum inside me, please.”

Her plea pushes him over the edge, and George buries his face in Y/N’s neck, letting her body absorb his pleasure as he pulses deep inside of her. George sucks and nips at her skin as his orgasm starts to fade, slowly resting his body against Y/N’s as they both catch their breath.

They kiss slowly as George softens inside of her, finally pulling out when the feeling gets to be too much. Neither of them says anything as George pulls away, Y/N watching from the bed as George grabs a cloth from the ensuite. Once he’s back in bed and has wiped their mess away, Y/N still hasn’t found the right words. So she lets him pull her into his arms as they settle under the duvet, the steady pounding of his heart lulling her to sleep.

George lays awake for hours after Y/N drifts off, still wound up from the game and everything that happened after. He kisses the side of her neck softly, dragging his fingers up and down Y/N’s bare arm. He can’t remember the last time he felt this content and he just wants to savor this moment for a little bit longer.

Sex with other women has always been a means to an end for George. He was horny, the girl was willing, and in the end he’d go back home to his own bed satisfied. There was never this connection that he feels with Y/N, this deep need to take care of his partner, this reluctance to let them go. It isn’t just sex with her, as corny as it sounds it’s making love, and there’s no way George can ever go back to the way it was before.

If his plan doesn’t work and Y/N truly doesn’t ever return his feelings, she’s well and truly ruined him for any other woman.

The thought of Y/N walking away from him, from this makes his stomach drop, and he finally has to confront the fact that his time is running out and it’s a real possibility that he may never get to hold her like this again.

Because he lied to her last night.

At dinner, when Coach Morrison pulled him aside he didn’t just want to talk to George about how he’s noticing how different he is now and the progress he’s made. He sat George down in his office to let him know that a decision about Captain had finally been made.

George is officially the next Captain of the Chicago Rebels.

The news had immediately brought a burst of joy to him, knowing that all of his hard work with the team hasn’t gone unnoticed. But it was swiftly replaced with fear and sadness. Because if George is Captain, technically his arrangement with Y/N can end. She’d done what she promised and is free to head back home and live her life as she was before. They can go back to just being a part of each other’s pasts, instead of building towards the future George so desperately wants.

He’s barely put his plan into action, and he’d hoped he’d have more time to get Y/N to fall back in love with him. Even though things between them are clearly going well, and every day their relationship feels less and less fake, he’s not sure it’s enough to get her to stay here with him. George is ready to go to the courthouse tomorrow and turn this fake engagement into a real marriage, but he’s not quite sure that Y/N is on the same page.

Which scares the shit out of him.

Luckily Coach doesn’t plan on making the announcement to the rest of the team until the season officially starts, wanting to present George with a new jersey just before the first game.

He can only hope that’s enough time, because a life without Y/N is no longer an option.

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley smut #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fan fiction #harry potter au #harry potter #gw #golden

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gendrie · 25 days

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arya meeting lady stoneheart is about closure. it’s about coming full circle. its about the cycle of life and death and rebirth. it’s about family. it’s about purpose. its about mercy and justice and grief and, yes, vengeance. but i don’t think its in a “ohh arya needs to learn revenge is bad” sort of way and i seriously doubt thats the effect this meeting will have, at least from the character’s perspective.

arya already knows revenge doesn’t make her feel any better. she’s under no illusions about that. she associates the ability to kill with survival and with good reason because, for better or worse, that what it means.

Arya edged farther into the room. Joffrey's dead. She could almost see him, with his blond curls and his mean smile and his fat soft lips. Joffrey's dead! She knew it ought to make her happy, but somehow she still felt empty inside. Joffrey was dead, but if Robb was dead too, what did it matter? (Arya, ASOS)

arya is aware that joffrey dying didn’t bring robb back nor did it make her happy. she still feels empty. in her own way this is fairly similar to the comments made by catelyn and ellaria - grown women and mothers with a lot more life experience then her.

in order for arya to have a “revenge is bad” moment she would need to think it’s good to start with. she doesn’t. arya doesn’t think her actions are heroic. she actually has more self awareness on that account then most povs who run around making excuses for their actions or close their eyes to their wrongdoings.

“As I cannot be the hero, let me be the monster, and lesson them in fear in place of love.” Mercy mouthed the last lines along with him. They were better lines than hers, and apt besides. (Arya, TWOW)

she recognizes the relevancy of tyrion’s monologue in the bloody hand, literally mouthing the words about being a “monster”. arya knows that whats she’s doing is dark and dangerous. since the very beginning, arya has felt she is bad and unwanted that feeling only intensifies as the series progresses because of what she has done.

Knights were captured and ransomed all the time, and sometimes women were too. But what if Robb won't pay their price? She wasn't a famous knight, and kings were supposed to put the realm before their sisters. And her lady mother, what would she say? Would she still want her back, after all the things she'd done? Arya chewed her lip and wondered. (Arya, ASOS)

it cannot be stressed enough that arya really doesn’t think revenge and killing are good. nor has she ever prioritized it over her family. that is not why arya is at the house of black and white. arya has every reason to believe she is the last stark left and that she has no home.

A long time ago, she remembered her father saying that when the cold winds blow the lone wolf dies and the pack survives. He had it all backwards. Arya, the lone wolf, still lived, but the wolves of the pack had been taken and slain and skinned.

Winterfell is burned and fallen, Arya reminded herself. Old Nan and Maester Luwin were both dead, most like, and Sansa too. It did no good to think of them. All men must die.

There is no place here for Arya of House Stark, she was thinking. Arya's place was Winterfell, only Winterfell was gone. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. She had no pack, though. (Arya, AFFC)

"Do they frighten you, child?" asked the kindly man. "It is not too late for you to leave us. Is this truly what you want?" Arya bit her lip. She did not know what she wanted. If I leave, where will I go? (ADWD)

that could not be clearer in the text. arya’s pack has been “taken and slain” her home is “burned and fallen”. she has no one and nowhere to go. even grrm has said this:

“She’s having a very hard time letting go of those last remnants of Arya...but where else does she turn?” George R.R. Martin

arya believes she has no other options. her family is gone anyway so what is left for her? sure, she could take the kindly man’s advice and become a wife or a courtesan, but those paths are dead ends for arya of house stark. instead? she can risk the faceless men’s indoctrination in exchange for their skills; which might actually give her the power to do something.

arya’s list serves a couple functions. initially, its a way to cope with fear and self hatred.

She hated the villagers for their sheepishness, almost as much as she hated herself. (Arya, ACOK)

the only way arya can deal with the march to harrenhal - where she watched torture rape and murder day after day - is by promising herself one day she will right these wrongs. it was traumatizing for her to witness those things AND be powerless to stop it. she is filled with GUILT. in the hob&w the list does become a connection to arya’s identity. because, again, she believes it’s all that’s left to her.

but thats not true. the list is not the only thing left to her. news of the north is going to arrive in braavos sooner or later. bran is calling out to arya across thousands of leagues. her connection to nymeria doesn’t just endure but grows stronger. arya is going to return to westeros where i think her path will cross with lady stoneheart’s. the meeting of these two will close the circle. it’s only fitting arya do that. she made beric swear to reunite her with catelyn. nymeria pulled her body out of the river. beric gave her the kiss of life, ensuring that his his promise to arya would be fulfilled.

lady stoneheart isn’t catelyn, though. she had a mental breakdown at the red wedding and was dead for three days before being resurrected. her heart doesnt beat anymore.

"Lady Catelyn?" Tears filled her eyes. "They said . . . they said that you were dead." "She is," said Thoros of Myr. (Brienne, AFFC)

"She wants her son alive, or the men who killed him dead," said the big man. "She wants to feed the crows, like they did at the Red Wedding. Freys and Boltons, aye. We'll give her those, as many as she likes.” (Brienne, AFFC)

lady stoneheart is also driven by the only thing that she believes remains to her: vengeance. she turns on brienne who faithfully served catelyn even after her death. stoneheart and arya aren’t the only ones either. stoneheart has “galvanized” (as per grrm) the brotherhood down a darker path too. she hasn’t forced them. those who remain? lem, harwin, and gendry chose to do so.

but they search for arya too. in the ASOS epilogue stoneheart and the bwb are searching for arya. arya can bring out the humanity left within lady stoneheart. arya can give her a little bit of peace before she dies - regardless of how that happens. maybe even let her know bran and rickon and sansa survive. in return lady stoneheart can give arya the acceptance she needs. arya doubted that catelyn even wanted her back. arya deserves to know that she did.

that is what arya needs. not for someone to tell her “revenge is bad!!!” (she knows) but to tell her she is loved and wanted despite everything. lady stoneheart can deliver arya a new purpose too. she will entrust in arya robb’s crown - the symbol of northern sovereignty. arya can take control of the brotherhood and lead them on a different path just like she did at the stoney sept. she will always pursue justice but arya will not serve death any longer.

a meeting between arya and lady stoneheart will derail their mutual need for vengeance because in their hearts arya and catelyn value their family above all else. thats what drove catelyn in life. thats why lady stoneheart will entrust the future of their family to arya because she cannot be with them any longer. its up to arya now.

#asoiaf nonsense #in my head i am responsible for this theory lol #so you can imagine how it pains me to see the fandom get it twisted

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spicyclover · 1 year

Text

Masterlist

I created this masterlist so you can read all the stories I’ve written and not miss one.

Clic here

Masterlist F1 stories :

I accept requests for all the Grid. Here are stories I already wrote

Mick Schumacher:

Pursuit of happiness

Painting our lives

Impulsive thoughts

Race of champions part one | part two | part three

Australia

I don’t want to! | part one | part two

Late hours

Santa’s letter

Feeling “Caliente” | Part one | Part two

Christmas Reverie

Kiss me, Mick! part one | part two

When there’s rain, there’s always a rainbow

Jealousy Jealousy

Nervous habit

George Russel:

The instant of a blink

She’s everything. He’s just Ken.

Pierre Gasly:

At the nightclub

Cutting through my broken heart

It is those we love most who destroy us

Summer love

Miscommunication

Lando Norris:

You can make the whole place shimmer

Handmaid gift

Driving through the suburbs

The strawberry lollipop

On your lips, half volt.

Daddy, I want Mommy!

Live Stream

Two + one = Three | part one | part two

None of you

Jaffa cakes

Just one day | part one | part two

Words can be painful

When the touch of water awakens desire | Part one

Charles Leclerc:

No one can hurt you

Motherhood part one | part two | part three | part four

Sometimes leaving is the best option

I hear a symphony

Remind me of him

Bad Tooth

Losing someone we love

Water kisses

Desire is a strong feeling | part one | part two

Always stealing the spotlight

Summer love

Pranks

All the things you said | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Cupcake

Carlos Sainz:

Delilah part one | part two

Two + one = Three | part one | part two

The accident that caused our love | part one

Dinner served

Lance Stroll:

Fireflies

Midnight sky

In bed with you is my favourite part of the day

Injured

Daniel Ricciardo:

Show me your scar

Blow my whistle

Sometimes you need to cry over a sandwich

Her boyfriend, his girlfriend

Paddock baby

Happy New Year, Sunshine

About damn time...

Max Verstappen:

Keep my husband's name out of your f*cking mouth!

Dutchman | part one | part two | part three

It’s not easy to be a single parent.

Just get out!

Cupcake

This is why you shouldn’t scare your wife...

[...]

Harry Potter:

War is over | Part one

Thank you for your support every day. I hope you like my stories and will continue to follow me for more adventures.

07/30/23

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monawriteslol · 11 months

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I NEED CLINGYY GEORGGG PLEEE8SSS...I've searched litarli EVERGWHERE I can't find any of his fanfics😔😔😔

a/n: ugh writing this made me feel so lonely LMAO but seriously im so feral for georg <3

warnings: none, just fluff 🤍

Georg has always followed a routine even before moving in with you. before the both of you lived together, he would always send you a good morning text the moment he woke up and constant assurances whenever he was busy for the day.

but now that the both of you sleep on the same bed, you sometimes get woken up by his alarms. you’ve come to realize that your boyfriend has set up two alarms for reasons that you were unsure of. you later noticed that the alarms were only five minutes apart.

“why even bother? why not just snooze the alarm?” you say as you were groggily woken up by his first alarm. he paid you no mind as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, trying to eliminate the distance between your bodies as he ignores your questions, his calm heartbeat lulling you back to sleep.

the second alarm wakes you up once more and you hear him let out a soft curse before feeling his dried and chapped yet soft lips press on your forehead, whispering a soft ‘good morning’ before he gets up and starts his day.

it takes a week of Georg accidentally waking you up because of his first alarm before you realized, the first five minutes was dedicated to holding you. the first alarm was a warning. a warning that stated that he only had five minutes to drown you in his warmth before he needed to start his routine.

there were times that when his first alarm sounded, you were woken up but more often than not, you stayed in a state of unconsciousness, nuzzling to your lover who held you close to his body for five minutes before his second alarm goes off and he kisses your forehead once more and starts his day.

when confronted, he tries to deny it once more, finding the look of confusion on your face to be adorable before he smiles and shakes his head as he sighs.

“i’ve always stuck to a morning routine, what’s so bad about adding a new step?” he asks and you find yourself unable to answer. the warmth on your cheeks is a reminder that he loved you so much that he’d give up five minutes of his already shortened sleep just to hold you in his arms every morning.

the next time you hear his first alarm, you find yourself holding him just as tight. likewise, wanting to start your morning wrapped around the arms of your lover.

#georg listing #georg listing x reader #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel fluff #tokio hotel smut #tom kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x reader #gustav schafer x reader #bill kaulitz #tom kaulitz #gustav schäfer #tokio hotel

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give-me-a-breakk · 1 year

Text

Strip Chess [gnf x f!reader]

word count: 2,564

warnings: handjob, blowjob, boobs, cum, the L word

summary: george comes over because you’re bored. you guys decide to add a twist to your game of chess that leaves you both shirtless.

“Y/N!” i jump a little, finally paying attention to the fact that i’m still in a call with george.

“sorry, what were you saying?”

he laughs, “i wasn’t saying anything, i just wanted to see if you were paying attention.”

“and i was..”

“not” he finishes.

“i’m sorry george, i’m just really bored today.”

“well, i could come over?” george suggests.

i smirk, even though george can’t see it.

“oh, you wanna come over george?”

“well- i- only if you want- since you’re bored-“ he stutters out.

i smile to myself. he’s doing it again. it seems that something about me makes him nervous, he never gets this flustered around anyone else.

but, it wasn’t a very well hidden secret that he liked me. everytime i came over to their house, dream and sapnap would nudge george at every one of our interactions. i guess they think i never notice all their little antics, but i can always see them in the corner of my eye, making kissy faces at george or pointing me out to him.

my eyes focus back on my computer screen, and i realize i’m about to start zoning out again.

“you know, you don’t need to be so nervous around me george.”

he doesn’t say anything.

“i’d love for you to come over.”

he agrees and leaves the call to get ready.

(third person pov)

zoning out into her thoughts again, y/n lays on her bed thinking about george, waiting for him to get here. intrusive thoughts kicked in, slowly escalating as the minutes past. at some point, her thoughts became about what george’s face would look like with his cock in her mouth.

she felt a little guilty, having thoughts like this about one of her best friends, but it wouldn’t even be the first time. unconsciously, her hand softly grazes her thigh, her eyes closed, imagining it’s george’s hand.

keeping her eyes closed, she begins to lightly rub her clit through the layers of clothing. the lightness of her fingers remind her of george and the way he handles everything with a weirdly delicate grip.

her phone dings and she finally opens her eyes to see it’s a text from george.

‘i’m here’

“fuck, of course you get here right now..” she whispers to herself, and gets up to open the door for him.

when she opens the door, george immediately gives her a weird look. he can see her face is clearly flushed.

“what?” y/n asks.

“why’s your face all red?” he asks, a light blush appearing on his face too. he liked they way she looked right now.

y/n grins. “why do you think, george?” she asks, tilting her head towards him.

“i- wha- i don’t know! i asked you.” he stutters, defensive and nervous.

y/n chuckles and moves aside so he can enter. “come in.”

after george settles in, they sat on the floor in the living room. george never understood why she preferred sitting on the floor rather than her sofa.

y/n sat extremely close to george as they talked. she was horny instead of bored now, which was quite inconvenient for the situation.

george sat stiffly, afraid to touch her anywhere inappropriately. but he still watched her as she talked, trying to keep eye contact, but constantly getting distracted by whichever part of her body was closest to him in that moment.

soon enough, that part became her breasts as she arched her back and leaned towards him. her horny state made her bolder than usual and george could hear her mumble something under her breath.

“oh my god, please touch my chest.”

“what?” george asked kind of loudly as his face turned red.

she was surprised he heard her at all, considering she said it pretty quietly. she tried to play it off saying, “i said let’s play chess” and giving george a sweet smile. she seemed so confident about it, that he’s almost completely convinced that his brain made up the last thing he heard.

she finishes setting up the chess board, and they start playing. george proves to be a lot better than y/n, beating her a whole four times in a row.

y/n sighs as george sets the pieces back into place for a fifth game.

“okay.. maybe if we raise the stakes, i’ll be motivated to win.” she says, tilting her head to the side as she thinks.

george puts down the last piece and looks up at her. “well what should we raise it to?” he asks.

she looks up, staring directly into his eyes. the sinister smile on her face makes him nervous.

“let’s make it like strip poker,” she pauses before adding, “only if you’re down, of course.”

george looks down, trying to hide the blush on his face. “yeah, okay. let’s do it.”

this time, y/n tried her best to focus on each move, thinking about what his next move might be, and what moves she could make to prevent it. unfortunately, it was useless because he beats her again.

“ha! i win!” george exclaims with a stupid smile. but he quickly looks up to see y/n’s smile and he remembers what she has to do.

usually she would sort of cheat in these kinds of games, starting with socks or accessories. but since they were settled down in her home, she had less options.

she slips her sweatshirt off, her chest only covered with a bra now. she looks at george to see him staring at her cleavage that peeks out, and he quickly looks away. she feels her skin gets goosebumps from the cool air that now hit her bare skin.

they start the next round of chess. this time, george taking a longer time on his turns. he was trying so hard to focus on what moves he should do next, but it was hard for him to think without remembering that y/n sat across from him, in just a bra.

despite being distracted, george still won this round, meaning y/n would have to strip again.

she hesitates for a moment, thinking about whether she should just take her pants off next, or if she should take off her bra next just to mess with george even more.

her horniness takes over, and she decides it’ll just be funner to take her bra off. as soon as she reaches back for the clips in the back, george��s eyes widen. they make eye contact as she undoes her bra, pulling it down her shoulders slowly to reveal her breasts.

george tried desperately not look down from her eyes, but when he did catch glances, he felt himself tensing up and getting horny. soon enough, his dick grew hard in his sweats as he watches her set the pieces up again for the next round.

“are you okay george? your face is really red..” y/n teases, with an obviously fake concern in her voice.

“yeah” is all he can say in return.

this round was even slower than the last. every other turn george took she’d have to call his name because of how long he was taking. he just couldn’t think straight at all, his thoughts were just completely full of images of her, and to think she was still just right there.

on one of her turns, george notices she’s smiling and realizes it’s because she finally just beat him. his eyes widen, not even realizing he was losing.

“finally, oh my god.” she sighs.

she shifts a little from where she’s sitting on the floor, a smirk plastered on her face, and her eyes trained on george. her gaze made him shiver a little, he was nervous, but at the same time, he was excited.

thinking about the fact that y/n was patiently awaiting for him to take off his shirt while she watched him turned him on even more, another blush appearing on his face.

so he takes off his shirt, finally revealing his always hidden figure to y/n.

“holy fuck..” she mumbles as her eyes trail down his torso. he chuckles, feeling flattered by her reaction.

this game was torturing them, slowly making them both hornier and hornier. in y/n’s mind, she could only take one more game, but after that, how could she resist?

yet again they start another round, this time y/n was anxious to see the end of it, her leg bouncing up and down unconsciously. the movement also caused a tiny bit of friction between her legs, so she couldn’t bring herself to stop. despite their new lack of clothes, their bodies both felt warm now.

another round of basically edging is over and george is once again the winner. he scoffs happily, waiting for y/n to strip off another piece of clothing.

“fuck this, just take it all off.” she pushes the chess board off to the side, knocking down a lot of the pieces in the process. george flinches a little at the sound, then looks back at y/n as she quickly scoots towards him.

his hands keep to his sides and his face turns beet red as she straddles him, her arms resting on his shoulders, and her hands in his hair.

she shifts a little, wanting to feel the exact imprint of his hard dick against her. a muffled moan comes from george and she looks at him, a little surprised, since she hadn’t really moved that much.

he sees her facial expression and feels the need to explain. “i haven’t done anything like this in a long time..” he says while looking away from her eyes.

“oh. do you not want to do this then?” she asks while moving her head to try and meet his eyes with hers again.

“no! i want to.. please.” he whines.

she chuckles. “well if you insist, george” she says while starting to grind her hips against him.

she starts to place kisses on the side of his neck, slowly moving down to search for any sensitive spots. when he groans as she softly bites a spot near his collarbone, she knows she found one. her lips focus on that area as she continues grinding on his lap. their chests making skin to skin contact as they’re pressed together, still sitting on the floor.

“you can touch me george..” she says by his ear, causing him to get goosebumps. without responding, he lifts his hands to her waist and rests them there lightly. she can feel how stiff he is and pulls back to look at him. he just looks up at her like a clueless puppy and she instantly melts inside.

“like this?” he tilts his head a little as he asks. she smiles sweetly and nods. “you can.. keep going though.” she places her hands around his wrists to slowly slide them higher on her waist. “the more your hands touch me, george,” she slides his hands towards the underside of her boobs, “the hornier i get.”

with that, he takes control and finishes the movement, carefully cupping her breasts in his hands. she allows her hands to slip off his wrists, and places them down by his sides while she leans closer into his touch. his grip is delicate just like she remembered of how he handled everything else. he takes one of her nipples in his fingers and starts playing with it, making her moan.

as george experiments with her sensitive breasts, y/n reaches down into his pants and rubs him over his sweats. he moans a little louder than she expected him to and he bucks up into her hand. she feels him tense up, but before he can try to apologize or express shame, she kisses him lovingly. their lips slowly separate as she pulls away but she speaks with her lips still hovering over his.

“sit on the couch.” she sighs out. he immediately follows her orders, lifting himself up onto her couch.

she trails her arms up his legs, stopping right at the waistline of his sweats. his breath hitches as he watches her hands pull them down, going quickly as she’s been waiting for this. his boxers go down with his sweats, and his hard dick pops out. she immediately holds it in both her hands, placing a kiss on his tip.

“george, can i be honest.”

she doesn’t hear him answer at first, but when she looks up, he’s nodding helplessly. she smiles, “i’ve thought about you like this before …so many times.”

his eyes slowly scan her face, and he sees how genuine she’s being. his pupils are dilated because he’s horny, desperate, and in love all at once. this moment is giving him the biggest urge to just tell her that he loves her, but he knows she’d think it’s too soon.

she leaves another peck at his tip, but then moves down to take him into her mouth. his eyes shut and his jaw tightens.

he tries to say something, to praise her, anything, but nothing is coming out except small groans. “i-“ he starts, but he’s cut off by his own moan as she speeds up.

she moves her hand to rest on one of his. eventually, he reaches a point of lightly bucking up into her mouth. she lifts her mouth off, swirling her tongue around his tip since he was so aroused now. his body unintentionally trembles and she smiles before placing kisses down from his tip to the base.

she was being so gentle and loving with him and he could cum from just that fact. he intertwines his fingers with hers that she rested on his earlier. she decides to focus on him and worry about her hormones later.

“do you know why i was so red when i answered the door?” she asks, smiling to herself.

he gulps as she continues, “i was thinking about you.”

she sees his dick twitch at her words. she laughs lightly and grips him a little tighter.

“y/n?”

she pauses and looks up at him, waiting for him to speak. it would be the first thing he’s said in a while.

“i..”

he’s fighting himself to try and stop himself from saying whatever it is. he pressed his lips together, still thinking about it. she squeezes their intertwined hands, and it encourages him to spit it out.

“i love you.”

he knows it was too soon. he already loved her as a friend, and even as more, but he was just learning about her feelings. he was already beating himself up inside. but he’s forced to stop when he sees her with the biggest smile he’s ever seen on her face.

his eyes widen when she starts jerking him off again.

“i love you too, george.” she says through a smile, before kissing his tip again. and that’s what does it for him. george’s body convulses once more as he reaches his climax. without warning, his cum lands on her face, causing her to flinch. he gasps and immediately goes to wipe it off.

“i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.”

she laughs. he wipes her lips and right after, she leans up and kisses him.

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beautifulbuckys · 2 years

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Can’t Stay Away (1)

Out of all of the wizarding kids Harry’s best friends could’ve been, why did it need to be a Weasley?

George Weasley x Reader

A/N: Hello! I’m back to writing! I’ve been in a huge Harry Potter phase recently. So...I’m doing some come back writing with a multi-part story! Enjoy!!

Warnings: Some swearing, enemies to lovers. Some back and forth between characters! No use of Y/N

Out of all of the wizarding kids' Harry’s best friends could’ve been, why did it need to be a Weasley?

Don’t get me wrong, the Weasley’s are a lovely family. Molly treats me with warmth as she would another daughter. Arthur would send me owl after owl questioning me on muggle happenings. Whenever I could see Charlie and Bill it was always pleasant. Percy would be tolerable at best. Fred constantly dropped flowers off in my dorm room yet always denied it. Ron confided in me and trusted me with anything regarding Harry. Ginny was almost like a little sister to me, I’d braid her hair and she showed me how to sew.

George?

Where do I begin?

Since we began our first year, he found a way to get under my skin. Literally. Once a spell he meant to cast on Filch backfired and lead me to the uncomfortable feeling of movement under my skin for 3 weeks. A time after that, he’d stained my silk scarf gifted to me by Harry when we were small. If you add on the act that he’s loud, disruptive, unruly, and barbaric; he’s a total unlikeable package!

The worst of it? The time he broke my pearl necklace during a failed escape from Snape after a prank. He’d collided with me right by the corridor closest to the Great Hall. Our chests collided violently and he pushed himself away. Unfortunately taking my necklace with him. The same necklace that my Mom had gifted to me when I was around 3. The last thing I had to remind me of her. The closest thing I had to her.

Fred had begged and pleaded with me to forgive George. Damage was done.

And since, I haven’t had a pleasant experience with him. Yet I find myself at the Weasley’s crumbling house every summer. It’s become a routine since we left the Dursleys. I’d room with Ginny, while Harry would stay with Ron. It worked out perfectly. Ginny and I would find ourselves sitting in the glowing sun helping Molly with the gardening. I found it quite peaceful. Us three stuck together a lot considering the amount of testosterone that lived in the Burrow. We’d sit in the same corner of the wobbly, patchy wood dinner table that sat in the middle of the cramped dining room. We’d share tea and Molly would educate us on the proper ways to crochet or knit.

Harry was surrounded by the lively Weasley boys. I never see them repeating a single task during the day, always onto something new. They’ll have practice quidditch matches during midday. Harry and Ron always manage to be on the same team, much like Fred and George. They’d move onto roughhousing near the garden patch, leading to a solid scolding done by Molly. I’d never missed the few occasions the boys would disappear for hours, only to return muddy and worn.

Today was no different.

“Oi, boys! What have I said about you lot wrestling in the mud! I absolutely refuse to clean this laundry. Fred and George. First to the showers! You’re helping us with dinner this evening!” Molly shouted at the returning group from just behind a small berry bush sitting outside the kitchen window.

Fred scoffed, throwing his pale arms into the air. “Mum! We were having fun, Harry learned some new moves!”

Nevertheless, the twins disappeared inside.

“I don’t know what I’ll do with those two boys. Always dabbling into trouble.” Molly turned to me, pushing a small ginger back curl with her forearm.

The sun was just beginning to set, creating a soft pink and orange hue in the sky. Whenever sunsets like this happened, they made me smile. Orange was a happy color. It reminded me of the Weasley family no matter the hassle they added to your lives. The Weasleys were my found family. Whenever a tough day happened and a sunset like this followed, I couldn’t help but picture the zany family bouncing in the sky.

I barely realized I was spacing out before a tall figure appeared to the right of me.

George.

I looked over to my left, where he stood next to me. He was wearing a periwinkle tee that wasn’t shy highlighting the slight muscle tone in his arms. George’s fiery hair was messy and wet. Some pieces clung to his forehead, while others stuck up like bedhead. Small freckles dusted his nose, adding a pop of color to his otherwise pale face.

“What’s got your focus?” He spoke softly. The kitchen was bustling with life, a few Weasleys and Harry running to help with supper. I was assigned to snap the ends of the fresh green beans we had grown. George picked up a few from the pile in front of me and began assisting.

“Nothing too important.”

“Seems it.” He pushed.

I tilt my head slightly in his direction. His tall frame is balanced on the aged kitchen counted by his hip. George’s legs were crossed, his patched white ankle socks slightly revealing themselves from underneath his discolored red pajamas.

“What’s it to you, Weasley?”

The sharp corners of his mouth perk into a smirk. “I can’t help but notice I’m the only one you call Weasley. I live in a house full of Weasleys. Yet Ron is Ron. Percy is Percy. Bill is Bill. But I’m Weasley.” I finally turn my head fully in his direction. His smirk is still prevalent on his face. I wanted to smack it off of him.

“Congratulations.” I sassed.

George snapped an end of a green bean off, tossing it in his mouth. “Someone is awfully snippy today,” He whispered. “Harry get some mud on your scarf?” The smirk he had been wearing never left his face. It sat, proud. What an asshole.

Thankfully, Molly had swiped me away to set the dinner table. The table, obviously repaired to expand its area, was rough and bumpy. There were a few times I’d assisted Harry and Ron with splinters they gained from the old piece of furniture. It was wobbly. What some would consider run down, I’d call it well loved. The original table dawned a dark oak color. The staining darkened the color and once made the woodwork shine. The first addition to the table was some leftover wood from Molly’s garden boxed. It was a birch slab nailed onto the original table. When a table cloth covered the table, a large dip was noticeable due to the level difference. The legs were also constructed with scrap pieces, causing one leg to be longer than the other. Yet, it still held the original charm the initial table was blessed with.

Molly had handed me an emerald green table cloth to cover the rugged surface. The various sets of worn china decorated the tabletop. Small ivory plates decorated with cornflowers were scattered on the table. While Arthur and Molly’s seats had the older, cream and rose plates they loved. Molly’s mother had gifted the couple with this set of dinnerware after their wedding. It definitely didn’t go unappreciated.

As the family settled down for dinner, conversations varied from Harry’s dream last night to Ron’s rat eating a hole through Percy’s special prefect robes.

“That damn rat needs some bloody training. He’s the worst behaved Weasley! And that’s counting Ron! Do you have any idea how much those robes cost?” Percy whined, gripping his chipped metal fork. His thin eyebrows furrowed, causing a horrible wrinkle on his forehead.

Ron shoved a slab of chicken breast into his mouth. “The school gave them to you.” He spoke with his mouth full. Thin pieces of chicken slipped out of his mouth while speaking.

Percy glared at Ron.

“They’re priceless.”

I giggled at Ron’s antics, him joining me. Percy began ranting about how his position of power made Ron jealous and that’s why he sent Scabbers to go chew a hole in the hood of the robe. While rambling, he flailed his frail arms into the air; nearly smacking Fred in the process. Fred dodged the hit dramatically while scoffing.

“Oi, can you watch where you’re swinging those muscles? I get you’ve been doing 5 push-ups every night but spare us from your fury,” The older twin snickered. The dim yellow lights of the Burrow cast a shadow down his face. His brow bones shadowed his chocolate eyes. From this angle, he could’ve been mistaken for one of those cheap muggle Halloween statues.

Percy didn’t take this comment lightly. He shut up quickly and began rapidly eating his food. Occasionally, he’d mumble something under his breath and glare at Ron.

“Dear brother I think you hurt poor Percy’s feelings!” George gasped. He raised his hands to his cheeks and feigned a shocked expression. Slight chuckles could be heard from Ginny beside me. “I demand at once that you apologize to my esteemed relative. If you don’t, I fear your food may be coming out from the other end!” George’s fake expression was replaced by a boyish grin. If you looked closely, you just see the tiniest dimple on both corners of his mouth.

“Thank you, Geor-” Percy began.

“My brother cannot help the brute strength that he gets from being part cyclops! It already ruins his self-esteem enough that he looks like one. Do not begin to make him fear using his true strength around those he’s supposed to feel safe around.” The entire table of Weasley’s erupted in laughter, excluding Molly. Ginny’s face could match her hair color. I could’ve sworn I saw tears falling from the corners of Fred’s eyes. I laughed too, I can’t lie about that. I’ve always found Percy to be tightly wound and in need of a serious laugh every once in a while.

As I wiped the falling tears from my face, I glanced across the table. George was staring right at me. We made brief eye contact before I broke it, bringing my eyes to the meal in front of me.

Shit. I laughed at George Weasley’s joke. I broke my front.

Dinner otherwise was rather peaceful. Of course, Molly scolded both twins for picking on their older brother. Arthur included himself in the punishment too. I’m assuming it was to cover up the fact that he slammed the table laughing in reaction to the conversation. Molly definitely saw it though. She was just letting him off easy. Percy left the table the second he finished his plate. As he stomped up the stairs, Ginny heard him grumbling about how Fred and George would soon get a reality check. Soon after that, a nearby door slam shook the Burrow.

As the evening continued, members of the Weasley family dropped like flies. Ginny was the first to go to bed. Eventually, Fred and Harry followed. Molly and Arthur disappeared without a word. Ron sat with me by the fireplace for a while.

The familiar warmth of the Weasley fireplace was always comforting to me. I spent hours tutoring Ron and Harry on charms homework during cold winter nights by the fireplace. I experienced my first heartbreak here. 2nd year, after Clarence Hillbox broke up with me the day before the summer break. Molly sat with me all day, comforting me and telling me about Arthur’s first fight.

“He had shattered my father’s vase! He was meeting my family. He tried teaching my younger brother the wonders of muggle ‘baseball’. Somehow in the mix, a ball flew in the opposite direction straight through the den window! Completely shattered the family heirloom that had been in the family for over 800 years!”

I sniffled. “Did he make it up to you? Or your Dad?”

Molly’s familiar smile appeared on her round face. “Well, he tried. He took me to a muggle pottery barn to paint a new one. He paid for the costs, and let me do anything my heart desired. He was the one to pick it up from the barn and brought it to my Dad. Obviously, he was still hurt but he appreciated it.”

Ron and I sat in silence for a while, staring at the yellow and orange flames that danced on the charred logs. Then I felt the couch dip to my right.

“Hope I’m not interrupting something.” The loudest, and younger of the twins broke the silence.

Silently, Ron stood up and left the room. Not a ‘goodbye’ or a ‘goodnight’ left his mouth. His soft footsteps could be heard above my head, walking quickly to his room. Great. Now Weasley and I are left alone.

I clear my throat, “Not exactly. My scowl must’ve been present on my face, as his face dropped slightly once he looked at me. “I was just hanging out with your brother. Obviously, he had other plans. So now I’m left alone.” My hands were fidgeting with the hems of my sleep shorts. There were a few frayed strings that stuck out from the sides.

“But I’m here.”

“Take the hint, Weasley.” I groaned, pulling the sides of my shorts out in frustration. He chuckled softly, turning his head to look at the fire. However, his arm had other plans. It snaked its way behind the back of the plush couch. His pink knuckles sitting inches from my cheekbone. I turned my head slightly, to see exactly how he was sitting. As he obviously wasn’t getting up. His broad-shouldered form sat comfortably on the seat. His left ankle was balanced on his right though, legs forming a perfect 4. Due to his arms being raised, his shirt lifted a little. A small blue boxer line peeked out from under his pajama bottoms.

“I can’t stand you.” He said.

I frown. “Yet you can’t seem to leave me alone.

“Touche.”

And for the first time ever, I didn’t want to smack George Weasley across the face.

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