#george knew about the bug

[i-am-the-oyster]

At least one of that group knew a hidden microphone was in Michael Lindsay-Hogg’s arsenal. Ringo and George Harrison found that out the previous week; they just didn’t know where or when their hired documentarian would deploy it.

“This is the bugging device, so we can surreptitiously bug your showbiz conversations,” Michael openly boasted on January 9, the day before George quit.

[thisismeracing]

Also have you ever thought about writing for George Russell? We’ve already got 2/3 for Merc. might as well have the whole set 😉

LMFAO I loved the pun!

I think he’s cute, perhaps in the near future I might adopt him as well (the accent already has me in a chokehold), but as for now I’m still fighting to resist the urge to stan the whole grid lol

[bluesidez]

Gym Rat Miguel Part 11 | chapter on AO3 for easier scrolling

content warning: fluff, some hurt/comfort?? angst??? bittersweet moments???, recreational use of zaza, some nerd talk, 18+ so MDNI, p in v sex (first time 😗)

word count: 10.1k, halfway proofread (don't ask me NOTHING...)

shout out to @hyjionie and @hwasoup for one of the ideas here! 😗 you guys will know it when you see it!

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GymRat!Miguel whose mom was driving him crazy. The flight for New York was at 7 am and somehow she was up running around the house at 2 am.

“Miguel! Get up, we have to go. Now!”

“Ma, no one is even driving on the road right at this hour. There's no traffic."

"Which is why you need to get up and move. You know Gabriel takes forever. Get up!"

GymRat!Miguel who groggily put on his clothes. It was the hoodie you got for him for Christmas with the doodle of the two of you on the front. If he was going to be stuck in the airport for hours, he might as well be comfortable.

GymRat!Miguel who looked made sure that his laptop was loaded with things to do.

He could catch up on shows he knew you watched so that you could have someone to rant to about them. He could listen to that one podcast you mentioned just because you mentioned it. He could read that one manga you were raving about because he was not going to compete with fictional men, and maybe, he could steal ideas from it.

GymRat!Miguel who went to wake up Gabriel before their mom's voice pierced both of their ears again.

He opened the door to see Gabriel staring bug-eyed at his wall while he ate a bowl of cereal.

“Did you go to sleep?” Miguel asked, closing the door and walking closer.

“No,” Gabriel said. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Miguel ran his hand over his hair, curly strands bouncing back, “Promise me you’ll try to sleep on the plane?”

Gabriel took his bowl to his mouth, slurping up the last drops, “Only if the voices let me.”

“Right,” Miguel says then takes his bowl from him. “Maybe you can have a conversation with them right now.”

“And maybe I will!”

GymRat!Miguel who stares at the bags his dad has stuffed into the trunk with awe. 

“Pa, you know we’ll only be there for three days, right?”

George presses against the trunk with a little more force than needed, “You never know what could happen, mijo.”

GymRat!Miguel whose bones shake with exhaustion as he stares out the window on the way to the airport. Maybe it’s due to the lack of sun, but he’s never felt a cold summer night. 

GymRat!Miguel who sighs as his dad argues with the staff over a suitcase that Miguel knew would be too heavy. He’s not even sure what his dad has in there.

GymRat!Miguel who thinks that TSA is having a field day despite his family being one of the few coming in at this hour. 

The man in front of him was taking way too long to pat him down and he got the hint was Miguel scowled at him.

GymRat!Miguel who had about four hours to kill before the plane came, so he decided to walk around the airport with Gabriel and pretend like they were a spoiled set of twins shopping casually in France.

“What do you think about this, Mimi? A little chic, no?” Gabriel held up a Gucci scarf to his green hoodie. 

Miguel stuck his nose up, “No, Bribri, it’s so yesterday.”

“Ugh,” Gabriel put the scarf back like it was on fire, “You’re so right. Thank god you’re here or I’d be so lost!”

GymRat!Miguel who feels like he’s back at home with Gabriel as they try their best to avoid the luxury brand store staff. Every time one would get close, they would giggle and rush out of the store. 

GymRat!Miguel and Gabriel who crash back at their terminal with enough food to feed a family of five. 

“What is all of this?” Conchata asks as Miguel hands her a coffee, a frustrated look on her face.

“Ma, it’s almost the crack of dawn and we’re hungry. Big boys gotta eat,” Gabriel said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

George reached in one of the bags and grabbed a sausage sandwich, “He’s right, Conchata. We can’t survive on two bites.”

Conchata eyed her three boys with her arms crossed, “All of it better be finished and I don’t want to hear one complaint about your stomachs.”

Miguel just snickered. It’s not like she bought the food anyway.

GymRat!Miguel who is watching an older couple meditate at his terminal as the sun begins to rise. 

“Yo,” Gabriel says. “That looks relaxing as hell. I’ma join them.”

GymRat!Miguel who is wheezing as he watches Gabriel plant himself between them to spread his arms and breathe at deep paces.

GymRat!Miguel who is thankful that his parents bought better-than-Economy seats, but that still didn’t stop any of the O’Hara boys from feeling like they were in one of those miniature museums. 

Both his dad and Gabriel were already tall, but Miguel was more than tall with a heavier body to match. If another compartment almost smacks him in the face, he might lose it.

GymRat!Miguel who takes off his headphones when Gabriel grips his arm.

“The voices,” Gabriel whispers. “The voices are here.”

“Are we doing this the whole flight?”

“Miguel, what if they tell me to do something drastic?”

Miguel looked to the window next to Gabriel and then up to the ceiling, “Three hours.”

“Three hours in which my brain could be infiltrated!”

“I’m closing my eyes, Gabri.”

“But-”

“Closing!”

GymRat!Miguel who used the flight to catch up on sleep and listen to the playlist you made for him. You gifted it to him earlier this month and said it would grow more and more. Miguel loved it because it showed that you were thinking about him, daydreaming about him. It also meant that he could connect to you more. 

No sound of crying babies, no smell of the artificial air packed tight, no light from overhead, just you and him in his mind, dancing on clouds. 

His heart felt like it followed the tempo of each song that played, the words and melodies taking over his mind. 

GymRat!Miguel whose mind wanders by the time the second half of the playlist starts. It was sensual and intimate in a way that passed the sticky sweetness of the first half. 

He was thinking about the nights when it was just the two of you and a bed. He could feel your body tangled with his in the sheets and your eyes piercing his skin. He could see you in front of him as the music played, the words glowing on your skin and the harmonies bounding you to him.

GymRat!Miguel who is yanked out of his fantasy of him pressing you up against a wall when his body jerks from the turbulence. 

He opens his eyes to see Gabriel knocked out and not a clue in the world.

GymRat!Miguel who is always reminded how idiotic people can be at the airport. 

Standing in the aisles is not going to make the people in the front move any faster.

GymRat!Miguel who could finally stretch his legs once he exits the terminal.

“If I get on another plane where a kids stares back at me the entire flight again, I’m going to spin my head like an owl,” Gabriel mumbles as he cracks his neck.

GymRat!Miguel who has a time laughing at his dad slowly losing his mind. 

First, he complained because his fabric luggage was lopsided and twisted from its buckled components, extra bag barely hanging on. 

Second, a wheel on his luggage was a few more spins from giving out. Every time the bag would skirt across the shining floors of the airport, George would grunt in frustration and yank it back. Gabriel almost pissed himself leaning onto Miguel from laughing. 

Third, the ride to the hotel almost gave him a heart attack. The cabs in New York were fast and no-nonsense when it came to getting people to their destinations. The cab drivers were also known to bob and weave into lanes like it was nothing. At every switch of a lane, George was mumbling prayers into the air. 

Conchata kept a hand on his shoulder as best as she could from the middle back seat, but George’s grip on the handle was turning white as he tried his best not to yell into the driver’s ear. Gabriel was filming him from the left side, wheezing like it was the funniest thing in the world. 

GymRat!Miguel who dropped his stuff off, took a nap, and used the rest of the afternoon to walk around Times Square. 

“You refused to go to a Broadway show with me but mark my words, you’re going to one with me before the year is over,” Gabriel pointed his finger at Miguel. 

“Unfortunately.”

GymRat!Miguel who watches as Gabriel dance battles with the random people in costumes in Times Square when they try to heckle him. 

At first, Miguel was worried for him trying to navigate such a bustling place, but there are moments like this that show him that his little brother has always been quick on his feet. His little brother was light years ahead of him in so many aspects and he couldn’t be prouder. 

GymRat!Miguel who probably filled his phone with more pictures and videos of Gabriel experiencing New York for the first time than were necessary. 

He couldn’t help it. His baby brother was soaring.

GymRat!Miguel who sends you places that he wants to visit with you. 

Envisioning you in his hoodie or with a fluffy, long scarf and walking down the sidewalk hand-in-hand with you had him excited to see you again. You would shine so brightly under the Christmas lights.

GymRat!Miguel who didn’t get back to the hotel with Gabriel until the evening. His parents both snoring in the room across the hall. 

GymRat!Miguel who still manages to get up early enough to hit the hotel gym before he and his family go tackle Gabriel’s dorm room. 

GymRat!Miguel who feels like the only other lady in the gym is trying her best to follow everything that he does. 

So much room in the tiny cube of a gym that they’re in and she moves to wherever he is after five minutes. 

GymRat!Miguel who is annoyed when she taps him in the middle of his set. He removes one ear of his headphones and tries his best to stop the disgusted look on his face from forming. 

“Hey! Sorry, I was wondering if I could use this machine! I’m kind of in a hurry.”

“After I finish this set,” she jerks back at that. “I’m using it right now.”

“Well, I just thought that-”

“Ma’am.”

“I’m 22! Don’t call me ma’am.”

Miguel’s eyebrows went up. He could hear Gabriel in the center of his mind calling her a “hard 22,” so he just put his headphones back on and continued to work through his set. 

GymRat!Miguel who thinks that interaction ruined the girl’s mood but he really didn’t have the energy to be concerned. 

He had to freshen up for breakfast. 

GymRat!Miguel who feels absolutely cramped when he steps into Gabriel’s dorm. 

“It’s not bad!” Conchata rubs Gabriel’s back as he looks around with his mouth in the shape of a line. “Once we clean it and set up your things, it’ll be just like home.”

Gabriel puts his hands on his hips, “Home doesn’t look like cell block 1.”

“At least the window overlooks the city,” Miguel says. 

The door behind them opens with George poking head inside. 

“Mijo, we need to set some ground rules. Your suitemates have no idea how to organize.”

“Did you go in their rooms?” Gabriel asked in disbelief. 

“It’s not my fault they left the door open!” George puts his hands up. 

GymRat!Miguel who works harder than he did for his own dorm. Every piece of clothing was in its rightful place, every surface was sparkling clean, the bed was made with minimal pillows and a giant RJ churro plushie, and there was an odd-shaped humidifier plugged up on his desk. 

“I’m putting your cleaning supplies in the corner of your closet, so this room should stay clean,” Miguel grumbled as he stuck a mini vacuum against the wall.

“Whatever, mom,” Gabriel replied.

“Gabriel,” Conchata had a hand on her hip and a finger pointed at her son. “Don’t whatever him. He’s right. There’s no excuse for this room to be a mess.”

Miguel and Gabriel stood in shock at Conchata’s quick defense.

“Are we in the twilight zone?” Gabriel asks out the side of his mouth.

“Maybe it’s the air pressure,” Miguel whispers back.

GymRat!Miguel who equates Conchata’s growing softness to the fact that not one, but two of her boys will be leaving the nest. 

The sentiment is sweet, but by the fourth time she just lets him and Gabriel roam the busy streets, he’s internally freaking out. 

It was far different from the woman who pinched their ears when they tried to sneak sweets into the shopping carts or the woman who had her shoe locked and loaded for when one of them did anything to annoy her. 

GymRat!Miguel who stays up late to talk all night with Gabriel about anything and everything.

“Which one of these do you think is better?”

Gabriel reaced into his backpack to unfold two flags, one with Jungkook over the Mexican flag and a Weenie Hut Jr. sign.

“Well, I definitely feel like there’s a clear answer.”

“You’re so right,” Gabriel says and folds up the Spongebob sign. “It’s better to represent.”

Miguel only sighed, “If that’s what you insist, Gabri.”

GymRat!Miguel who hugs Gabriel tight as their parents pack the cab back to the airport.

They’ve dropped Gabriel back at his school and said their goodbyes all morning. Miguel feels like he’s fading away. He bites his lips in order not to cry, but it’s hard when Gabriel's hands grip his hoodie like a lifeline. 

“Knock em’ dead, baby bro.”

Gabriel leans back with a wet laugh, “They won’t see me coming.”

GymRat!Miguel who waves out the window as the cab drives off. Gabriel waves back with both hands and a smile on his face. 

Miguel keeps looking back and Gabriel is still standing there. He wants to tell the cab to turn around.

After the fourth look, Gabriel is no longer looking at the direction the cab went but to a girl who also seems to have said goodbye to her family. He’s talking animatedly, arms moving as fast as the words fly out of his mouth. 

Miguel turns back around and pulls the strings on his hoodie hard, eyes welling up with tears. 

“Ay, pobrecito,” Conchata pulls Miguel into her arms, kissing the top of his covered head. “I know, it’s ok.”

Miguel’s lungs take in chopped breaths, hands never moving from the strings. He doesn’t know how to stop the tears from falling. 

“George, you too?”

To Conchata’s other side, George was looking out of the window, sniffling with a fist covering his mouth. 

“It feels like just yesterday I was teaching him how to kick a ball!”

Miguel blew out some air, “That probably was yesterday. He sucks at soccer. And football. And kickball.”

“How did he ever make the basketball team?” George says, voice riddled with sorrow. 

“His height, pa,” Miguel’s throat was tight again. “I didn’t call him beanstalk for nothing.”

The two of them lean onto Conchata, snot and tears crowding their faces. 

“Lose one baby and I gain two more,” Conchata sighed as she rubbed their backs, barely space in the little cab. 

GymRat!Miguel whose eyes remained puffy and swollen the whole trip back home. 

GymRat!Miguel who had to go back to school as soon as possible. 

He loved his parents, but being in the house without Gabriel took a lot more patience than he was willing to give. 

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t see you coming while he's looking for you around the Student Center. 

The campus feels a little different since he’s become more familiar with it. Now he’s got shortcuts and pathways down. He knows more places to hide away in and he carries more tips to survive than he did his freshman year. 

A tap on his shoulder has him turning around. He spins, looks down, and his mood immediately lifts. 

You’re standing there with a pretty smile on your face in the midst of the bustling crowd. Miguel bends down to pick you up, arms wrapping around your thighs, mindful of your skirt. You laugh his name out as you cling to his shoulders. 

He kisses your lips, mouth warm and cozy like the sun shining through the window in a cool room. 

“I missed you so much,” he breathes after two heavy pecks. He moved to the corner of your mouth to your nose to your cheek. “‘M happy to see you.”

“I’m happy to see you, too,” you run a hand through his hair and cradle his face, looking into his eyes. “Are you alright?”

Miguel puts you down, knowing your limit for periodic PDA was nearing its end. 

“Better with you here.”

“Really?” You lean into his chin on his chest with hearts in your eyes. 

“Absolutely,” he plants his arms around you. “Been replaying your playlist for me. You want me to be your good boy?”

Your eyes get wider and you bury your face in his chest. 

“Why are you hiding? You should have known I was going to ask about it,” Miguel chuckles as you groan. 

“You’re using it against me.”

“No, I just want to confirm!”

The irritated face you gave him was too much, he had to tease you more. 

“Just say the word.”

“Hmph,” you lean back as Miguel grins. “Well, be a good boy and help me find our friends.”

Miguel let you pull him, smile loopy, “Whatever you say, baby.”

GymRat!Miguel who is glad to see his friends again. Peter, MJ, Jess, and Ben are sitting at one of the high tables and they all greet you both with smiles. 

“The lovebirds are here!” Peter reached to shake Miguel by the shoulders. “Good to see you both alive.”

“Never better,” Miguel replied, holding the seat out for you to sit on. 

“Look at him,” Jess snickered. “His eyes are practically shaped like hearts.”

“It’s ok to look away from her Miguel,” Ben said. “She’s not going to disappear.”

“C’mon guys, leave them alone. Haven’t you ever had someone you’re head over heels about?” MJ asks.

“No,” Ben and Jess say in a monotone voice.

“I’m sure you’ll find someone someday,” Peter quips as he wraps his arm around MJ. “Someone to stare at like they’re the only ones at the table.”

Everyone looked at Miguel talking to you as you tapped on your phone. He would whisper something in your ear and you would push him back with a shy laugh. His hands rubbed on your shoulders and your thighs. 

“Movie night might be insufferable,” Ben sighed.

Jess leaned back, “A girlfriend or boyfriend would suffice. I’m not picky!”

“I am,” Ben says with raised eyebrows. “I need someone to acknowledge my beauty.”

GymRat!Miguel who does in fact become insufferable during movie night. 

Flashing bright colors are painting the white dorm walls, lighting up the room, and the two of you are cuddled together on his bed. It’s way too cramped and Miguel could barely fit on the thing by himself, but somehow, he has you laid in his arms, a blanket covering you both. 

He’s not even sure what movie is playing on the projector because his mind is too focused on you. His hands keep wandering your body under the thick blue fluff. He’s watching you body jump and listening to your breath hitch as he kneads your thighs, your sides, your stomach, your chest. 

He really did miss you and he wanted to take this time to become acquainted with your body again.

But you would kill him if he let his thoughts take over and sink his hands under your clothes. 

So he settled with touching you and kissing your neck occasionally, your mind to preoccupied with the movie before you. 

GymRat!Miguel who insists on a snack run and makes you tag along. 

Does he want snacks? Not really.

Does he use it as an opportunity to make out with you on the outside of his car? Absolutely.

“Mig, mm-” you melt into him as he pries your mouth open. “I thought you said you wanted milkshakes.”

Miguel cages you against the car, pans down to your chest, then back up to your eyes, “My milkshake is right here, though.”

You scoff, hit his chest, and push his arms to walk around to the passenger seat.

GymRat!Miguel who has milkshakes ready for everyone on their way out to their own dorms. He spent way too long playing with you in the privacy of his car.

GymRat!Miguel who by his second day of classes thinks he has the ideal fall semester schedule planned.

He’s still blocking things out on his calendar, but his classes are a bit more spread out this time, which means more time to be with you. 

With your stacked studio classes, he was going to take every opportunity he could to see you. 

GymRat!Miguel who wanted to take up a basic game programming class as an elective. What better way to nerd out than to get insight on how his favorite games worked?

Learning C++ and Python, breaking down the technical side of things, making his own small games through engines; Miguel was beyond excited, to say the least.

He walked into the empty lab, scoping the classroom out for the best seat. The perks of being early. 

GymRat!Miguel who is scrolling through his watch later list while he waits for class to start. Maybe he could finally watch the Let’s Plays he’s been piling up. Maybe character builds would be better. 

“Hare-Hare, is that you?”

Miguel stopped, that nickname something he hadn’t heard in forever. 

He turned to his right with a smile on his face, “Xina?”

“It is you!” 

Miguel stood to hug her, his body rocking from the weight of her, almost knocking him over. 

“It’s been so long,” she breathes out. Her hands slide down his arms. “Have you gotten even bigger?”

Miguel laughed, “Probably.”

Xina’s eyes flitted over his body and back to his face. 

Miguel sat back down, “You look different, too. Is that a tattoo?”

“Y-yeah! You like it?”

It was some computer code in a spiral shape on her arm. It was really different for her. A far cry from the conservative, shy girl who left the South. 

In fact, the outfit she had on was something she would never wear. It looked like something that Lyla or Tempest would throw on. No collared dresses or long socks over stockings, just low-cut skirts and flowy-sleeved tops. 

“It’s pretty cool. Do your parents know you have it?” 

She shuffled the sleeves of her shirt back down, “They weren’t too fond of it, but what can they do now.”

Miguel smiled softly, “Lyla told me you were coming down here. I guess I just didn’t believe it until I saw you. How have you been?”

“I’ve been pretty good. Just trying to readjust. It’s a lot different here.”

Miguel raised his eyebrow, “From China or from up north?”

“Um, from up north. It’s a lot slower.”

“Really?” Miguel watched as she picked at the mountain of bracelets on her arm. “Hopefully not too much slower. I want you to enjoy your time here.”

More people started to fill up the lab, dropping their backpacks and pecking on their phones. 

Miguel rolled his chair closer to Xina, “What happened up there? Is everything ok?”

Her eyes shifted nervously, voice tight, “Lyla didn’t already tell you?”

“She can say a lot of things, but I’d rather hear it from you.”

Her shoulders dropped and whatever thoughts that were clouding her mind disappeared. 

“I’ll-” the professor heads to the front of the class. “I’ll tell you one day.”

Miguel nods, dropping the subject. 

GymRat!Miguel who is really excited about the future of the class after the first initial day. 

The professor seemed to have a lot of knowledge involving the industry, and even if Miguel couldn’t see himself really tapping into the industry, he enjoyed the banter. 

“Class seems like it’s going to be fun,” Xina says as she walks next to him, bag patting against her hip. 

“That’s a sentence I’ve heard no one ever say.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Xina pushes his shoulder and Miguel fakes being knocked over. “This is coming from the man who got excited about encyclopedias being available for checkout.”

“There was good stuff in there! Not my fault that others didn’t catch on.”

GymRat!Miguel who chats with Xina like old times. 

She looked different, but the core of her was still there. Still the sweet, reserved girl that he remembers. 

“Ah,” Xina looks down at her phone. “I gotta go. Me and my roommates are having a house meeting.”

“You got a quad suite?”

“An apartment! You should come over sometime. We’re going to have a little housewarming party soon.”

“Cool, I’ll be there. See you Thursday?”

Xina grinned wide, hands folding together in front of her, “See you Thursday.”

GymRat!Miguel whose time with you during the day was limited to lunch time. Your studios were stacked along with some general ed classes and he hated it. 

“Miguel, stop pouting, I’m here now!”

“That’s until you have to go mix your paints with others and cut floorboards.”

“I’m not mixing paint with others,” you reach to wipe some salad dressing off of his lip. “I’m mixing paints with other paints. And mineral spirits. And turpenoid.”

Miguel slumped down his chair, petulant. 

“Why can’t I just sit next to you and encourage you?” Call you pretty, stare at you, hold you. 

“Because it’s a college course just like any other class. I just can’t just walk into your labs unannounced.”

“If it were one of my lectures, you probably could.”

You left out a soft breath through your nose, “True. Too bad my classes are three hours long, babe.”

Miguel groaned, “I should have switched my bio class to yours.”

“So you and I both could be distracted all day? Not a chance.”

“No,” Miguel held out the vowel. “I wouldn’t get distracted, I swear! We’d sit at the front of the class to ensure it.”

“And somehow, you’d still find a way to distract yourself.”

Miguel puffed and folded his arms.

“How so?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you shake your cup, seeing if you had any drink left. “Writing me messages on your notes app, spamming emojis, sending naughty pictures in the middle of class.”

“That was one time.”

“One time that my professor almost saw the hairs leading to your-”

“So what you're saying is, you don’t want my chest in your phone?”

“No! I never said that!” 

Miguel smirks and you fall back into your chair with your heart pounding. 

“You’re so mean, I’m going to class early.”

“Baby, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Miguel held your hand to stop you from leaving the table, pulling you to his side. 

“Let go, I’m going to class.”

“Let me walk you there at least?”

Miguel wrapped his arms around you and moved his head wherever your gaze went. 

“Fine, hurry up.”

GymRat!Miguel who finished his lunch in two bites and reached for your portfolio. 

GymRat!Miguel whose heart swelled as you swung his hand on the walk to class. 

“I think we can still make more time for just us. There’s the weekends, your birthday, fall break, winter break, our anniversary,” you sang as you looked up at him. 

“You excited?”

“To spend time with you? Always.”

Miguel felt his cheeks warm at the simple statement. 

“Are you?”

“If I’m not excited to be with you, you’ll know I’m being kidnapped.”

“Stop,” you giggle. 

“It’s true!”

GymRat!Miguel who lingers in the art building while you wait for class to start. 

“Is there anything in particular that you wanted to do for our anniversary?”

You fan your eyes up, “Hm. I’m not picky. As long as it’s close to school. We can save the bigger trips for the future or holidays.”

So no sporadic trips across the country. He can check that off his list. 

“Your face is telling me that you were thinking of something else.”

“No…”

GymRat!Miguel who after two weeks of class could definitely say that his elective was taking more brain power than his science classes combined. 

It was fun, but god, he didn’t understand the point of his professor insisting that they learn C#. 

“This is so stupid,” Miguel grumbled after the third failed attempt to get his program to run. “I think I’m in hell.”

“With me here? No way,” Xina snickered beside him. 

“Yeah, you’re right. Still doesn’t change the fact that this is a program that is completely useless to not only me but the rest of this course.”

“It literally can’t be that bad”

“Look!”

Miguel showed Xina his code and the lack of progress that it seems like he made. 

“That’s ‘cause your lines are wrong, silly.”

She leaned over him, tapping at his computer. Miguel noticed that her tattoo was on display today despite the cool chills coming in as fall approached. 

“There. That should fix it.”

Miguel ran his program again and was filled with relief when it actually did what it was supposed to do. 

“You’re a lifesaver.” 

“Anytime,” she beamed and fanned absentmindedly. “I’m always here to help. I definitely need your guidance for quantum physics.”

“What do you need that class for?”

“My advisor suggested it, but I’m starting to regret it and I can’t afford to drop it.”

“Tell you what, you help me with coding and I’ll help you with physics. Fair trade?”

“Plenty equal to me.”

GymRat!Miguel who smells Xina’s perfume as she helps him for the third time that class. 

It’s sweet and earthy. It reminds him of the time you fed him ice cream on a campus bench not too long ago. 

“What is that? It smells good.”

“Really?” Xina looks over to Miguel with a smile. She leans back and twirls the black strands of her hair. “You like it?”

“Yeah, it’s nice.”

“Thank you.”

GymRat!Miguel who gets invited to Xina’s apartment-warming party. 

“It’s pretty small, and I’ve only made a few friends here so far, but I would love for you to come.”

“For sure, for sure. Should I bring something?”

“No, just you and your body will suffice.”

GymRat!Miguel who laughs with Xina as they exit the class. 

“I’m just saying that if you have time to make merch for your games immediately after the first patch of it does numbers, then you have enough time to improve it and make other parts faster.”

“Game developers have families to feed, ya know?” Xina states. “They can’t just sit at a screen all day, they need quick money like the rest of us.”

“So you sell plushies instead? Whatever happened to ‘hi, hello’ or ‘this is how progress is going this month.’”

“Miguel!”

He turned to where he heard his name, that voice like music to his ears. 

“Bebé!”

GymRat!Miguel who runs to you and spins you around like he hasn’t seen you in years. You squeal into his neck, excited because he’s so excited. 

He puts you down and stands in shock, checking his watch, “I thought you had studio right now?”

“Critique ended super early, so I wanted to surprise you!”

“So the rest of your day is free?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Miguel would punch the air with glee if he wasn’t in public. 

GymRat!Miguel who turns when you peek your head past him to see Xina standing with a small smile on her face. 

He slots his hand into yours and pulls you over. 

“Xina, meet my girlfriend. Bebé, meet Xina.”

You reach your right hand out, introducing yourself. Xina takes your hand with a grip like a blood pressure machine and a quick introduction. 

When you take your hand back, your eyes do a double take between the two, Miguel oblivious to what just took place. 

You clear your throat, “Do you guys take the same class?”

“Yep, we-”

“We go way, way back,” Xina grins. “Like trading silly bandz and Pokemon cards back.”

“Oh shit, really? So you saw Miguel in his baby days. What was he like?”

“Please don’t say anything embarrassing,” Miguel groans out. 

“Yeah, tell me something good. Something juicy.”

“Hm,” Xina tapped her chin. 

Miguel shook his head behind you, hands clasping together in a pleading motion. 

“Miguel had a crush on me.”

That’s not what he expected Xina to say and from the raised eyebrows on your face, neither did you.

“That’s,” you rock on your feet and adjust your backpack, “definitely something.”

“Yeah! He was so cute running around handing me flowers with the roots still attached. I was too busy trying to be the best ballerina around, though. Right, Hare-Hare?”

“Right,” Miguel looked to the door. “Uh, we’ll see you around Xina.”

“Yeah, see you soon,” her fingers twinkled, chains on her nails dangling. 

GymRat!Miguel who kept waiting for you to say something as you both walked to his car. 

He was excited to eat dinner with you for once, but your silence was scaring him. 

“What’s wrong?” He breaks, sick of his aimless thoughts. 

“I don’t know, Hare-Hare, you tell me.”

“Amor, don’t be upset. It was such a long time ago.”

“That’s fine, I don’t care about that. Why would she bring it up in the first place? I don’t even know her like that.”

“I think she was just nervous, she’s not usually like that.”

“Compared to…?”

“Compared to the kind person I know her to be. Look,” Miguel reached for your hand, voice steady. “I’m sure she’ll open up to you as I’m sure you will to her, ok?”

You blew out a deep breath, “Ok.”

“Trust me?”

“I trust you.”

“Good,” he pecked your lips. “Now let’s go get pizza. I’m starving.”

GymRat!Miguel who still brought a gift to the apartment warming. It felt rude to not show up with something. 

You had recommended a candle, so Miguel went and got something that smelled similar to Xina’s perfume plus a candle warmer in the shape of a flower. 

He knocked on the door, a gift bag in his hand.

After a few seconds, it swung open with a guy who he didn’t have to bend down to look at. 

“Woah,” he said. “You’re huge.”

“Uh, thanks? Is Xina here?”

The guy was brushed to the side to reveal a frazzled Xina. 

“H-hey, Miguel! You came!” Xina clung to him, fingers clammy and breath burning through his shirt. 

“Yeah, of course. Was this the wrong day?”

“No! No, no. You’re right, come on in.”

GymRat!Miguel who felt that the apartment was really nice and Xina’s roommates were a rambunctious bunch. 

Although, he expected the event to be a bit more relaxed. There were people crowded together in the living room, some screaming at a game on the TV, some making their mark on the couch, others dancing out on the balcony. 

Miguel was anxious to say the least. 

GymRat!Miguel who was pulled into Xina’s bedroom, the stench of that sticky, sweet perfume filling his nostrils. 

“Sorry about that, I didn’t know it would get this wild.”

“It’s fine,” Miguel shuffles the bag into her hands. “I just wanted to give you this, then I’ll be on my way.”

“Aw, so soon?”

“Yeah, I’ve got some stuff to catch up on.”

He wanted to get out of here. 

His eyes panned around her room, the style of it matching more to her past self. White lace, lilac and soft pink bows, tiny bunny and hamster families sitting on a shelf above her desk. 

A poster from a franchise that she swore she hated but he loved. Funny. 

Xina dug into the bag pulling out the candle warmer, “Miguel, this is so cu-ute! It’ll be perfect on my desk.”

“I thought you would like it.”

“You do know me very well,” she pulls out the candle and holds it to her nose for cartoonishly amount of time. “This smells fucking amazing. It’s like, like the inside of an ice cream bucket. But in a jar.”

“Xina,” Miguel sits the candle down before she moves the wicks up her nose. “Are you high?”

“Only a little…un poco,” she holds her fingers in a pinch. 

He pushed her hand away from his face. 

“They’re not making you take anything, right?” He pointed back to the door. 

“No, I wanted it to. It’s nice. You should try it sometime. Relax a little.”

Miguel watched Xina’s eyes for a moment, searching for anything, something about how she really felt. For the moment, they were only cloudy and unphased. Miguel supposes that he should be like that too. 

“Maybe another time. I think I’m gonna go.”

“If you must,” she pouted and hung on to his shoulder until they reached the door. 

GymRat!Miguel who finally breathed easier once he was in his car. 

He wondered what to get a person to help them come down from a high easier. 

GymRat!Miguel who didn’t care what Lyla had to say, the arcade was a great idea for the 1st Anniversary date. 

He had it all planned out: pick you up at your dorm door, drive you out, about an hour to the closest city, spend the rest of the night exploring the city, come back to the hotel, breakfast in bed, an afternoon at an art class because you wanted to see him paint, an evening at the arcade, and a night to complete out his Mission B: Virgin No More. 

It was perfect. Immaculate. Sublime. 

GymRat!Miguel who took the term passenger princess more seriously than he needed to. 

“You sure you don’t want me to drive?”

“Nope. Just sit there and look pretty.”

“I might fall asleep.”

“You’ll still be pretty either way.”

GymRat!Miguel who has the most fun going to random stores with you. Sure, there were some boutiques where the owners looked at you both like extra heads were sticking out of your necks, but there were also stores that were cozy and warm. 

You both stayed in the nooks and crannies of stores looking at trinkets, jewelry, books, anything. 

“Miguel, look!” you hold up the tiniest pair of baby shoes he’s ever seen. “How precious is that?”

“Put those down, I don’t need any new ideas.”

“You had old ones?”

GymRat!Miguel who buys a giant puzzle for you both to complete together. It’s a watercolor painting of the night sky and the bright day blending together. 

It was the two of you together in one piece, he had to get it. 

GymRat!Miguel who is giddy that you bought a set of matching silk pajamas for you both to wear. 

He knew you were definitely going to get hot in them, but what are hotels for if not turning up the A/C and cuddling together under the thick, starchy comforters? 

GymRat!Miguel who keeps staring at you through the mirror as you brush your teeth. There’s a fluffy headband keeping your hair out of your face, and you’re only wearing the top of your pajama set. 

He’s no better, only rocking the pants. 

“What?” you say with foamy toothpaste flooding your mouth. 

“Nothing. You’re cute.”

You spit out the toothpaste, “You’re cute!”

GymRat!Miguel who holds you close as you take a bunch of mirror selfies before you both head to sleep. 

GynRat!Miguel who knew this day was starting off right when you came out of the bathroom with your stomach showing. The shirt is like a blessing, mesmerizing in multiple areas, hugging your skin tight but loose enough for him to stick his hands under it. 

“Amor, I don’t know if you know this, but,” Miguel pulls you in between his legs. “We’re supposed to actually make it out of the hotel room today.”

“And we will,” your eyes sparkled. “So until we get back, be good.”

Miguel groaned and peppered searing kisses across your skin, hands hot on the pocket of skin he could see, squeezing and gripping. 

“Do I get a reward?”

You lean and whisper in his ear, breath tickling his skin, “A really, really hot one.”

Miguel's eyes are opened wider when you stand back, neck burning. 

“You’re killing me.”

GymRat!Miguel who really sucks at painting. 

“I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong.”

“Well, to start off, your brush isn’t even clean.”

You guide his hand to his water cup with a giggle, “None of your colors are going to show up if you keep dipping them willy-nilly.”

“Ok, but how come your hearts are so much better than mine? We both followed the teacher.”

Your eyes looked from your uniformed artwork, colors tangling together intricately and shapes flowy to Miguel’s canvas that had dripping paint, a bad mix of oversaturation, and wobbly shapes. 

“You know, I’m not completely sure how you managed that, babe. What matters is that you did it with love,” you say noticing both of your initials in one of the best hearts on the page. 

“Maybe you’ll be better at pottery? Mosaic?”

“I think you just enjoy laughing at my expense.”

GymRat!Miguel who rolled the sleeves of his sweater up when it was time to play arcade games. 

He had to look good, show off, and earn prizes. 

You watched with heavy eyes as he geared up to play the boxing game. 

He made the boyfriend outfit look even more yummy, with his button-down peeking from under his blue sweater to match your outfit and his big jeans hugging his waist. 

With a heavy swing, the machine seemed like it lifted off the ground with the force he gave it. His face was so serious as he waited for the score and you were inching closer to insanity. 

The machine faltered, red dashes dancing across the screen. 

“Did you break it?”

“Uh. I hope not.”

After what felt like a moment in which you both probably should have run away or called a worker, the machine blinks back to life. 

“No way.”

A max score of 999 stared back at you both and the card machine lit up with rainbow colors. 

You held his hand in yours, looking at his knuckles for any bruises or blemishes. When you stared up at Miguel incredulously, he had a goofy smile on his face. 

GymRat!Miguel who may have been more competitive than he needed to be. 

You yelled as his score kept inching away from yours on the basketball arcade game. 

“You’re, like, as tall as the machine! You’re cheating!”

“It has nothing to do with height, chiquita.”

You groan out a sound of frustration as you miss your shots, messing up your streak. 

The timer goes out, Miguel winning by a landslide. 

You push your head back as Miguel celebrates. 

GymRat!Miguel who keeps this song-and-dance up for the rest of the night. Sometimes you would win, sometimes he would win. 

His final strike was when you both were in one of those FPS games that required you both to be crammed inside of a dark box. 

“Miguel, stop taking my fucking shots!”

“Oo, she’s getting feisty with me now.”

You thought quickly and leaned over. With an eye on the screen and the intention to rile him up, you moan his name right in his ear, breath needy and warm. You lick at his jaw to seal the deal and turn back. 

Like paper, Miguel folds, and his aim becomes absolutely terrible. 

“W-why would you do that?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to feel that bad as “Player 1: Bunny WINS” and “Player 2: Bear LOSES” jumped across the screen. 

You kiss Miguel on his cheek as he readjusts his pants with a frown on his face. 

GymRat!Miguel who could hear his heartbeat in his ears on the elevator ride back up to the room. 

You were holding onto the giant plushie he gave blood, sweat, and tears to earn, saying that it reminded you of him. 

Miguel, on the other hand, was digging his nails into his palm and opening the collar of his sweater sporadically. 

“You alright?” you say, placing a hand on his elbow.

“I might pass out.”

“Miguel,” you hold him close as you both walk to the door. “You gotta calm down.”

“I am! I’m just nervous.”

“You’re shaking.”

Miguel’s hands tremored as he ran the key card over the censor.

GymRat!Miguel who let you hold his hands as you kissed over his wrists. 

He was so dear to you. His presence, like a beautiful spark.

“You’re so sweet.” A kiss to his palm. “The sweetest there is. I adore you.”

Miguel took a shuddered breath as he watched you, heart rushing to his ears.

GymRat!Miguel who is more calm when you both start to remove your clothes. It wasn’t steamy and desperate like he imagined. It was slow, intimate, and quiet. 

It was like seeing you all over again for the first time when he helped you take off your shirt. It was like stepping into new territory when you held his jeans so he could step out of them. You both took turns taking off an article of clothing, savoring the moment. 

Miguel fumbled a bit when he was met with you the clasps of your bra, fingers knocking against each other.

When the time comes, after what was an hour or so of touching, feeling, and existing within each other, your hands fumble with the condom.

Miguel feels out of his body as you slide it down with care, hands moving as if you were molding clay. 

It wasn’t until he was on top of you that he felt that this was really happening. The foreplay between you a spot of comfort and habit.

After so long, he finally slid in deep, the pit of his stomach quivering. You were so unbearably tight.

“Y-you ok?” Miguel squeezed onto your hand, watching your eyebrows knit together. 

“Yeah, it’s just,” you chuckle, breath almost gone from the feeling of him. “You’re really big.”

Miguel’s face shifted from worried to shocked. 

“Oh! Well, I guess that’s a good thing?”

“You don’t have to guess, I can feel it.”

Miguel twitched and jolted involuntarily, causing you to whimper, your words going straight south. 

“Miguel! Stop moving.”

“Sorry! You’re really tight right now and I’m trying to focus.” 

“God,” you sigh and let your head drop to your pillow. “Are we even doing this right?”

“No clue.”

Miguel kissed your collarbone as you wrapped your arms under his. He continued to kiss across your shoulders, lips light and airy. Up your neck to your jaw, he could feel you relax and breathe a little easier. 

He grazes his mouth to your cheeks, humming as you move them closer to his lips. He kisses your temple, your eyebrows, your forehead. At your nose, you start to giggle, Miguel’s kisses leaving flutters on your skin. 

Miguel joins in on your joy, grinning as you try to return the pecks. 

“Ok,” you whisper. “I think I’m ready. You can move now.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I want you to make me feel good. I want you to feel good.”

Miguel looked at your eyes, waiting, wanting, open. He couldn’t help but to think how lucky he was to have a girl like you who was just so beautiful and lovely. 

His body is pressed against yours, the plush of your chest molding onto his. Your legs were wrapped around his thighs and your fingers danced across his back. 

He takes a hand to hold the side of your face while the other one is pressing you even closer to him. He moves out as best as he can, the warmth of you an addicting feeling, and slides back in slowly, a shallow thrust to start off. 

Your breath was hot against his mouth as you shuddered. Miguel groaned, feeling the heat of you through the thin condom. 

He moved again, watching as your face twisted and turned. Your hands are pressed against his back, palms applying pressure until the feeling stretches to your fingertips. The pricks of your nails dig softly into Miguel’s skin, muscles moving as he tucks your hair away from your face. 

By the third thrust, Miguel is moaning out, overwhelmed with you everywhere. When he breathes, you breathe. When he tightens his hand on your back, you tighten yours. When the feeling of you becomes too much to bear, you’re right there with him, eyes heavy and wet. 

Everything was heightened, from the sound of the bed squeaking as Miguel’s hips moved, to the little sounds you made when he inched in deeper. He’s scared he might shout in your face due to how good you feel so he presses against your lips, grunts coming out with each thrust. 

You take him with stride, hands balling up to fists as he gets deeper and deeper. 

His name from your lips is broken down from two syllables to four, enunciation clear enough for Miguel to know that he’s doing something right. 

“Don’t stop,” you plead, gaze reaching Miguel’s soul. “Please.”

“I won’t.” He would never leave if he had the choice. “Am I, shit, am I doing good? Do you feel alright?”

He shifts back to see your face and his heart speeds up watching you under him. Your arms fall to the bed and your mouth stutters open as Miguel continues. 

Your eyes drip as you let out staccato moans and Miguel leans down to kiss away your tears. 

“C’mon, bebé, let me know.”

You nod your head and cry out when Miguel goes even deeper. He hums against your mouth as a thank you. 

“Miggy, I,” you stop as you take a breath. 

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

A rush of heat from top to bottom filled Miguel’s core. The air left his lungs swiftly and came back in twice as fast. His back shook, nerves like a spring. All he could hear was your breaths, all he could smell was your warm skin, all he could taste was the lingering touch of your tongue, all could feel was the hot valley of you, all he could see was you.

He dies and comes back to life, sight piecing together that the stars and hearts were not part of you but they were just his muddled brain taking you in like the first day he met you. His throat burns like he swallowed hot coal. 

Your mouth is moving but he still can’t connect the words yet. He feels himself floating away. 

“Baby?” the way that your hands grip his body ground him. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” Miguel nods, eyes blinking fast. “What just happened.”

“I think you came?”

Miguel looked down, and sure enough, you were right. 

He doesn’t remember you getting any relief. 

“Can I-” he groans as you clamp down on him when tries to pull out. “Can we do that again?”

You nod your head, “Please.” 

GymRat!Miguel who, after a brand new condom and a clearer mind, realizes that he has a lot of work to do. 

He knew that you were his everything, but he couldn’t deny that he was a little embarrassed. You swore to him that it was ok, flattering even, but Miguel isn’t buying it. 

Your legs were bent at his sides as he lifted your hips off the mattress. He held them up as he stroked deep and focused on the sound of your breaths. 

“B-baby,” your voice is stunted as Miguel keeps a steady tempo. “Look at me”

Miguel groans into your neck, shuddering from the sound of your voice and your hands rubbing his sides. Your moans were high in your throat, breaking as Miguel’s hands pushed and pulled at your skin. 

“I can’t.”

“Why,” your words fizzle as Miguel hits a sweet spot. “Why not?”

“If I look at you, I’m gonna cum.”

Miguel goes faster as he feels you constrict against him. The bed creaks as the sound of him delving into you gets louder and louder. 

“Oh,” your nails scratch his back. Miguel matches your voice, desperate to please you. 

You open your mouth again, a three-letter phrase ghosting your tongue. 

“D-don’t,” Miguel’s hips freeze and unfreeze as he hears the first vowel leave your mouth.

“I wanna see you.”

Miguel shifts, eyes finding yours, and he knows he won’t make it. 

He tells you just as much and you pull him closer. 

“Te amo, mi luna.”

Miguel cries as he feels the air leaving him. He reaches down to touch you, your body jolting when his fingers graze your clit. 

You cum around him and he pushed through, waiting until you were shaking to let go. 

“You,” Miguel leans his forehead on yours. Both of you are shaking, blood pumping with adrenaline. “Play so unfair.”

“But you love me?”

He cuddles into your thumbs wiping at his eyes, “So much. I love you so, so much.”

You kiss him, feeling warm and satisfied, sighing as he melts on top of you. You run your fingers through his wild hair and scratch at his name. 

After a while, Miguel perks up, eyes sparkly and big like a little puppy. 

“A-again.”

“What?”

GymRat!Miguel who pulls you to the edge of the bed by your legs. You yelp at his strength and the icy pricks of the hotel A/C coating your overheating skin. 

Miguel slides back in with a practiced ease, the angle different, but not unfamiliar. 

He held your legs and hips from the bed, watching as your body moved from the faster momentum he produced. 

Your voice reaches the ceiling as your hands grip for anything. Seeing your reaction, Miguel grips your hips and your stomach, angling even deeper. It was fulfilling until your hands landed on your chest, stopping them from jerking so.

Miguel pulled your wrists together and down, watching as your arms framed your chest. He moans out your name, eyes stuck on the picture presented before him. 

How could anyone ever believe you were not beautiful? 

GymRat!Miguel who can’t help but to ask for one more round. In your disheveled state, you tell him it’s the last one. 

The sounds leaving your bodies were enough to make the bed blush. It was something so perfect about the whispers you mewled into each other's skin contrasting the wet sound of Miguel slapping into your wet entrance. 

Somehow you were nearly bent in half, knees almost next to your ears, as Miguel’s feet were planted on the bed. You didn’t even know your body could do that. 

At every smack of skin, Miguel was moaning your name louder and louder, mind completely gone. 

“I’m, ngh, gonna cum!” Your voice comes out at a volume that matches his. 

Miguel nods, encouraging you to release, kissing along your skin. 

You shout as he swerves his hips, melting your cour as he slides along your sweet spots. 

“So good,” Miguel says, balls twitching against you as crumbles to the bed. “So amazing. Mi luz, mi sol.”

The two of you catch your breath in the dim hotel lighting, jolting with aftershocks of your anniversary. 

GymRat!Miguel who held you on his chest as you slept, lips pressed against the top of your head. He checked his phone before going to sleep, wanting to set a timer for the morning. 

A Game Exchange’s Worst Nightmare

Miggy Mig MC: I did it

Winner-Winner: ???

Ly(ability)la: Only you would announce losing your virginity like that

Tempie: omg

You’re not a baby anymore 🥺

What am I gonna do

Winner-Winner: WAIT

LESGOOOO

Tempie: I never thought this day would come

Winner-Winner: you was tearing it up wasn’t you? 🤪

Ly(ability)la: you’re so annoying

Tempie: like I didn’t prepare fast enough

I

I WASNT READY

Winner-Winner: I hope you did that trick I taught you

It gets em every time

Guaranteed banger

Tempie: This actually ruined my night

Ly(ability)la: Temp is losing it and so is Wins

Congrats to you ig

Winner-Winner: I bet she’s KNOCKED OUUOOT

Ly(ability)la: is being normal like not in your cards or…

Tempie: I think I’m sick

Miggy Mig MC: .....

Gabri 🤏🏽🤡:

“I did it”

“No fucking way"

"NO FUCKING WAY"

"AND? AND SO?"

“It was just as good as you say. That’s all I’m saying.”

"I feel like I need to throw something on the grill"

“Not too much Gabri”

GymRat!Miguel who wrapped his arms around you as you fixed up something the next morning. 

“G’morning,” you say to a heavy Miguel leaning down on you. 

“Super good morning,” his hands reach to cup your left breast and your stomach under your robe. He left a long kiss on your shoulder. “Whatcha doing?”

“‘M getting your gift together.”

“Another one?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Well, let me step up my game.’

GymRat!Miguel who sits with you on the bed as you both trade gifts.

“Aw, Miguel! How am I supposed to eat these? You look so cute here,” you took a piece of candy in your hand and looked his face planted on it. 

“Like this,” Miguel takes your hand and guides the candy to his mouth. 

You smile watching him, body warm. 

GymRat!Miguel who watches your eyes glow when you see the dolphin charm with the date that you two took our first date. 

“Put it on me?”

Miguel slid the jewelry over your skin, watching as gold danced against your skin.

GymRat!Miguel who feels like crying when flipped through the scrapbook you made. Each section matched a song in the playlist you made for him. 

It was so thoroughly crafted and thought out that Miguel couldn’t stop the waterworks. 

“Why did I think that outfit was cool?” Miguel laughed wetly as he saw a picture of you both at a pumpkin patch.

“You look adorable,” you catch his tear on your thumb and hug his side.

GymRat!Miguel who drops you off at your dorm with kiss after kiss to your lips. 

Jess opens the door with a dramatic sigh, “The two of you are glowing. How cute.”

GymRat!Miguel who reaches back to his night with you every time he’s sick of the class he’s in. 

A little bit dangerous when it comes to his labs, but everything is reminding him of you. He can’t even look at his blanket without thinking about the way your shirt draped your body. 

Maybe he should make love to you with it next time.

GymRat!Miguel who is in a daze during his programming lab. 

“Earth to Miguel. Did you finish the mini code?”

“Uh, yeah,” Miguel replied to Xina. 

“Good, because I need you to check this equation really quick. I need to turn it in later this week.”

Miguel leaned over to Xina’s laptop, arm reaching across her. 

“So,” she slides her nails up his arm. “What do you think?”

“It’s fine. This part is very wrong, though.”

She squeezes at his muscle, chest pressing on him.

“Are you cold or something?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“Because,” Miguel slides her laptop in front of him. “You’re really touchy today.”

“Miguel, I’m always touchy.”

She puts an arm on the back of her rolling chair and leans on her wrist. 

“True.”

“Is there a problem with friendly touches?”

“No, Xina. I’m not like that.”

“Ok,” she holds her hands up in defense. “I’m just trying to understand.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That,” Miguel says turning to her, “Being weird. Overstepping.”

Xina folds her arms and nods her head, “I got it.”

GymRat!Miguel whose time with you dwindles within the next couple of weeks. If it’s not studying, it’s the robotics team. If it’s not the robotics team, it’s his class schedule never matching yours. If it’s not your studios, it’s his study sessions with Xina. 

Currently, she was sitting beside him on the first floor of the library, head on his shoulder as she sighed over a new formula. 

“This is so gross,” she said, wiping away eraser shavings.

“Did you even try?”

“Like, once. That was enough.”

GymRat!Miguel who gets your text and looks up to where he knew you’d come from. He felt like he could feel you close, but the entrance was so far away he couldn’t see. 

He got up for a second, turning and standing tall to catch a glimpse. 

“I know you’re not about to give up this. You said it was easy! That’s not the Miguel I know,” Xina grabbed his wrist, hands unbearably hot. 

His phone buzzed again. You said you were going back to your studio. 

He sighed and sat back down, mind foggy.

divider by: @thecutestgrotto + @adornedwithlight 🩵

a/n: Y'all know that gif with the smoking duck? I feel like that but I would replace the cigarette with an Icee or something.

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@urlocallocachica @wanderlustingcastaway @peachey-pie @ch3rry-bl1ss @girl-of-multi-fandoms

@love-kha1 @manlikemilesmyguy @sillysillygoofygoose @monticellohoe @kodzuminx

@lauraolar14 @bruhhvv @m4dyy @farrowroyale @cl3stevu

@ohara-whore @muneca-lemon-steppa @alexa4040 @amelialysm @snails-doodles22

@questionable-behaviour @babygotl01292003 @calig0sto @tatatida @haveclayeveryday

@corpsenightmarebride @earth2fae @maiyart @feegrh32 @darkstarlight82

@ladysimp @sonicbutbutter @relatednative @slowlyshycomputer @nuetralcolorsenthusiast

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@poisamm @thequeenreaders @tinybirdhidedout @aly29a2001 @mimi-sanisanidiot

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@jayskookies @xo-zeze @planetxella @thedevax @stressed-cherry

[lovings4turn]

hey can u do alex albon sending u selfies while ur apart

i love this prompt for alex omgosh !!! thanks sm for sending it in lovely — tried somethin a little different n i’m not sure how i feel about it but i hope you like it !!!

taking off now baby!

wish u were here to talk my ear off while im trying to sleep:/

y/n 🥰

alexander albon that better not be my sleeping mask…

albono ❣️

in my defence i needed it more

plane bad sleep hard:(

y/n 🥰

YOU’RE LITERALLY ON A JET RN ???

albono ❣️

point still stands

y/n 🥰

…

ur so lucky ur cute

imy already babe have a safe flight ☹️🫶

albono ❣️

what six hours of good sleep does to a man

ready to cook in australia😮‍💨

y/n 🥰

you’re gonna do great babe

i’ll be cheering you on from the living room !!!

try to smuggle a quokka back in ur suitcase for me 🥰

albono ❣️

i’ve been staring at the floor for the past thirty minutes

this is what the bugs down there are seeing

y/n 🥰

aren’t you supposed to be in media???

albono ❣️

i have five minutes

and i need my dose of you before i go out there

apparently it makes me smilier

y/n 🥰

oh boooo cheesy🍅🍅🍅

(kidding i’m blushing 🤭🤭)

albono ❣️

don’t be fooled by the smile masking the sheer terror in my eyes i couldn’t let him get suspicious

i think george forgot he isn’t in an f1 car rn and is just driving us back to the hotel

y/n 🥰

five second penalty for driver 63 incoming 😔

least you look cute 🫶 fear looks good on you

albono ❣️

…

thanks?🤨

y/n 🥰

tell george i want my boyfriend to remain in one piece please

flying back will be a lot harder for you if not and i can’t deal w not seeing you for even longer:(

albono ❣️

“only because y/n asked nicely” — george

y/n 🥰

i always knew i was the better half <3

[hungharrington]

Could I request something from the prompt you reblogged:

“I had a dream about you last night. Woke up hard/wet. Wanna hear about it?”

kitchen counters (kisses, and more)

this was hard to think of a sitch! it's a bit weird (?) but also a bit goofy at times, which i love and i hope u love anon! not any warnings needed, it's hot consensual sex except they don't use a condom but we know this is fiction and we should totally use those things irl. ok be safe and enjoy <3 2.8k words. minors do not interact.

It’s a bit of a strange morning, being here in Steve’s kitchen when you haven’t spent the night.

Not for lack of want, mind you. You hadn’t been able to is all, some family event that rolled way too late into the evening. And even though you know Steve would’ve come and picked you up if you asked, even at some point past midnight, you didn’t want to ask that of him. You knew he’d had a long day. Steve tried to insist he’d sleep better with you beside him.

“I don’t want you driving, s’all,” you said into the receiver last night, your tone apologetic. “It’s just, it’s late and you’re tired. I’ll come over in the morning, okay?”

“You promise?” Steve grumbled back. He never was in the chirpiest of moods when he went home to empty sheets. 

“Pinky.” 

And you followed through, driving over as soon as you could after your wake-up. Your own spare key lets you into the house and it’s only mildly surprising to find it quiet. The kitchen is empty, lights off. 

You think of your boyfriend, who must be still asleep upstairs, and take a couple steps up the stairs, and— ah, there it is. The sound of the shower. If you strain your ears, you can hear his faint rendition of a George Michael song. It makes you grin.

You head for the kitchen anyways, flipping on the lights as you go— it’s a bit later than Steve’s usually up but you’re willing to bet that without you there to bug him awake, he’s dozed past his usual alarm.

There are Eggos in the fridge, enough for both of you, and fill the toaster with them, pressing the lever down. You begin brewing the coffee, the scent of it percolating the air and it’s nearly ready by the time you hear Steve coming down the stairs.

He appears in the doorway, shower towel still hung around his shoulders, his chest bare. You automatically dip your gaze to drink up the sight of his chest, a mixture of love and lust competing in your chest. His hair is shaggy and wet. He’s scrubbing the back of it with the towel but he pauses, delighting at the sight of you.

“I thought I heard you,” He smiles easily, and you meet him in the middle when he comes over for a kiss. His hands circle your waist. You press up on your toes and hold his face gently, pressing your sweetest good morning onto his lips. Steve hums. His eyes are still closed when you pull back.

They flutter open and he smiles again, blindingly handsome. “Missed you last night,” he says, pulling you closer by your waist. “And this morning too.”

Your heart sings just a bit, your thumb stroking lovingly across his cheekbone. “I bet you did, handsome.”

Steve raises his brows like he thinks you don’t believe him and his hands slither down, nearing the curve of your ass as suggestiveness creeps in his tone. “Uh huh. Even had a dream about you last night.”

His head ducks into the curve of your neck, lips ghosting along your throat as he continues, voice still husky from his sleep. “Woke up hard.”

His body pressing into you confirms that his high-running hormones haven’t managed to dim in the time between his dream and now — his cock is half-hard, nudging against your thigh. You can’t help the way you shiver when he kisses your neck, wet and warm, and murmurs, “Wanna hear about it?”

He’s a bastard. That’s the first thought in your mind as his kiss turns harsher, suckling at the skin of your neck in a way that weakens your knees — he’s a bastard who knows exactly what he’s doing. Your hands slip from his jaw to his shoulders, clutching them a little tighter. You try to pull yourself together.

“Something tells me you’re gonna tell me anyways.” You remark, a pant already making your words sound a little gaspier.

Damn, he makes you needy. Your head falls back and you let him nibble along your neck, feeling your arousal sparking — and catching fire quick, burning low in your stomach.

“Mm, I could,” Steve replies, between his lovebites. His cock has gotten harder, his hips lightly grinding against you to work it the right way. You keen into his touches. “Or… I could show you?”

Your hands move to tug his face up, out of your neck, and you kiss him, hard. Steve groans appreciatively into the kiss, beginning to walk the two of you backward til his back hits the counter. He uses the leverage to pull you closer, his knee nudging between your thighs — your cunt pulses hotly as you grind down against his thigh, lust licking hot at your spine.

“Mhm, definitely…” Steve starts, words tumbling out between his kisses. His teeth scrape your bottom lip, tongue soothing along after. “Definitely started like this.”

“Oh yeah?” You huff, giving a pleasurable shudder when the seam of your jeans lines up just right, rubbing rough right on your clit. A breathy moan escapes you and pushes into Steve’s lips, sealed in your kiss.

Not breaking his kiss, Steve’s hands grip your hips, his knee nudging higher as he pulls down to grind on him again — another bolt of pleasure pulls a moan from you as you clench around nothing. For a hot minute, you two play this game; Steve dedicating himself to your bottom lip, kisses hot and hands wandering, while you rub against his thigh needily. You reach a breaking point eventually.

“Steve,” you pull back from your sloppy kiss to whine, unsure exactly what you’re asking from him.

Face more flushed than before, Steve eyes you hungrily, lips swollen from your steamy kisses. He pulls your hips forward once again, groaning at the reaction it gets him— another pitiful whine, your hands on his neck flexing.

“God, you’re a fuckin’ angel,” He muses, more to himself. He bites his lower lip and takes a second to compose himself before his fingers take a walk, eyes tracing the path they take along the edge of your jeans. Steve pauses at the button, eyes flicking up to your face, eyebrows raising an inch.

“Take ‘em off?” He asks.

“In the kitchen?” You counter, sounding a bit appalled. Not that you and Steve have ever been restricted to the bedroom, but, well….

The Eggos in the toaster pop right at that moment as if to prove your point. You and Steve's heads both whip to the side to look at it and there's a moment of silence. Steve giggles first and you join in quickly, leaning into him. The noise tapers off and when you look back to Steve, you think about the night you would've had if you hadn't been held back.

You don't owe it to him, but you certainly are eager to find out the contents of his dream.

Stepping back out of his hold, you pull your shirt off swiftly. Next, you unbutton your jeans and shimmy them down your legs, kicking them off. Your legs prickle in the sudden coolness. You enjoy the wide-eyed boyish joy on Steve's face maybe a bit too much. He clearly wasn't sure he'd convinced you.

“You did say you'd show me what happened in this dream." You say, hooking your thumbs into your panties, like you're about to work them down your legs next. You pause, tilt your head, the fire in your belly fueled by Steve's greedy gaze drinking you in, "Or do you want to be the one to take these off?"

Steve growls, stepping forward and capturing your lips with his. It's fast and messy, his lips taking and taking, hands raking fast across your body as he lets desire run free. One hand kneads at your breast, pinching lightly at the peaking nipple beneath your shirt, stirring up heat within you. The other hand delves down, down, pushes gently into your panties.

A gasp stutters out of you as he runs his middle finger along your slit, gathering the wetness welling from your entrance. The pad of his fingers drags your slick forward, searching for your clit and you're nearly embarrassed by the hiccupy whimpering noise you make when he finds it.

"There?" Steve says, though his finger has already started to circle it, treacherously slow motions. You nod, your hand slipping and grasping his bicep tightly, giving a sweet sigh of pleasure. "Oh, good girl."

The praise sinks into your skin and you can feel yourself getting wetter, another futile clench of your cunt around nothing.

"Y'think you can handle my cock?" Steve murmurs lowly, checking in with you. He meanly speeds up his soft rubs on your clit as he asks, nearly making it impossible to answer for a minute, but you manage another nod, swallowing your noises for a moment.

"Yes," You say, voice nearly a whisper. Your breathing comes out in soft little pants, chest heaving. "Yes, yes, please, Steve."

Steve hums, pulling his hand from your panties and reaching for his own pants, the buckle clinking as he undoes his belt clumsily. His jeans pool at his ankles, kicked off in the direction of your own, and for a moment, it makes you laugh — two pairs of crumpled jeans on your kitchen floor all because of Steve's horny sleeping brain.

"So," you say, glancing for a moment at his tenting boxers. It makes you salivate just a bit. "How do you want me? How did the dream go?"

You emphasize the word dream, bending over to rest your forearms on one of the counters, sticking your ass out behind you tantalizingly. Steve's eyes stare intensely, chest rising and falling as he steps closer — his hands fall onto your lower back, dragging down lightly, til his fingertips curl under the elastic of your panties.

"Mhmm," He drags them further, revealing the swell of your ass and hot cunt and releasing a resounding groan of appreciation. He sounds breathless when he says, "Just... fuck, just like this."

Your panties gather round your ankles and you step out of them. Behind you, you can hear the sound of his boxers dropping, one warm hand leaving your skin for just a second. It's back in an instant, both his hands shifting down again, spreading your cunt wide for him.

Steve lets out another raspy groan, one of his thumbs coming down to play in the well of slickness building at your hole — your head tips forward with a shaky pleasured sigh of relief.

"Oh, so wet for me already." He says, bordering a tease. You resist the urge to wriggle your hips, to push back and see if he'll relent and touch you more. "Already so messy, huh?"

His light tone of mock twines up your desire and tugs it harshly, your cunt clenching with a whine so loud you nearly don’t hear his chuckle. You're nearly dizzy with relief when the next touch is his cock, nudging against your hot entrance lightly. One hand holds your hip.

Steve goes easy, sinking into you tortuously slow til his thighs meet the back of yours, a sighing moan scraping out his throat as he does. You keen, a strained mewl pushing out your throat as you get filled— so full it aches deliciously, aches for more.

“Ste— fuck,” His name is stolen from your mouth in a gasp, your hands gripping the counter as he pulls his hips back slow, the drag so so fucking delectable. Shit.

Steve rolls his hips forward, pushing back in gently and he pauses again, giving you a moment — even as you tremble and huff out high little noises, clearly enjoying yourself. Warmth spreads across your back as he leans over, pressing himself against your back and his cock further in. There’s a soft kiss on your spine, then another.

“Fuck,” he breathes heavily, breath fanning across your back. He gives another leisurely roll of his hips, a gentle fuck into your heat. You can feel his cock twitch inside you as your cunt clamps down on him. Another whiney noise passes your lips, heat curling up tight in your lower tummy. “Fuck, s’like you’re made for me. Like this pussy was just made for me.”

“Stevie,” you plead, managing to get the word out this time. There’s another ghost of his lips along your skin, then his arm shifts, wriggling under your tummy. He scoops it around your middle, hand pushing up between your breasts to rest on your sternum. Still folded atop you, Steve finally begins to move, hips pumping his cock in and out, faster and faster.

You squeal, body humming like a livewire as Steve finally fucks you, the soft squelch of your cunt sucking him in filling the kitchen. Steve’s chest burns hotly where it’s pressed to your back and you can hear every grunt that pairs with the snap of his hips, his hand on your hip and his arm under you pulling you back to meet every thrust.

Your eyes slip closed, little uh, uh, uh’s coming from your pretty mouth mixed with whimpers of Steve’s name. You’re stretched up on your toes, trying to get the angle that only Steve has ever found. Your core is burning with desire, a throbbing growing in your clit.

“You’re- shit, you’re better than a dream, sweetheart.” Steve grunts, hips never slowing his motions. The stretch of his cock has gone by now but the shape of his hard cock feels like he’s moulding your insides — and you love it.

“Nothing beats this pussy, mm. Nothing,” He drags out the word with a groan, breath coming out in hot pants against your back. “Beats fucking my girl.”

You’re nodding, beginning to feel too fucked out to even think of words. Steve’s hand shifts your hips up and you know he’s looking for that spot inside you— because you can feel his grin against your spine when you whine loudly when the head of his cock finds it.

“Oh, is that the spot?” Steve asks, voice dripping in condescension. You nod frantically. He starts to bully it with his cock, every fast thrust hitting it over and over, til nothing but the melted words of more and please leave your mouth in a drooling ramble. You’re whimpering and whining, cunt drooling all over his cock, down your thighs.

“That’s it, honey.” The words come out a bit choppy like Steve’s own orgasm was rearing its head and his hand moves off your hip — deftly finding your clit. You make a pathetic moan of his name as he circles it harshly, quick circles with the pads of his fingers.

“Fuckfuckfuck, Steve— uh, fuck,” You’re spewing anything that comes to your brain, your hips rocking back to meet Steve’s hard thrusts instinctively as you chase your high.

“Shit, honey,” Steve moans, voice climbing higher and breathier. His hips begin to jackhammer, stuttering as his orgasm tips over — a whiney string of curses sung into your skin as he fucks into your wet, hot cunt, hot cum dribbling from his cock inside you.

You’re desperate now, teetering close to your own edge but not quite there. “Stevie, please,” you cry. His fingers on your clit which had slowed regain their speed, his hips picking back up as he begins his murmurs to you.

“C’mon, honey, you’re so close, can feel this pussy sucking me in.“ He whispers hotly, his hand on your sternum moving to grope at your breast, fingers twisting at your nipple. “Want you to cum for me, okay? Please fucking cum for me.”

You don’t get a lot of choice with his cock drilling into you, pushing that sweet spot enough that your orgasm finally builds and melts — a strangled whiney moan of his name warbles out of you, instantly met with Steve’s praises, murmurs of how good you are for him. It feels like every nerve is alight, turning over and pulsing as the waves of pleasure ride out in your body.

You exhale, trying to catch your breath as you half melt into the counter, finally lowering off your tiptoes as you relax in the post-haze. Steve eases his cock out of you, the quietest wince, and you give yourself another minute before you drag yourself up, beginning to look for your abandoned panties. A thought strikes you.

“So,” you pant, leaning back against the counter; you’ll definitely need to sanitise that later. Steve’s rescued his boxers, tugging them up as he raises his brows to indicate he’s listening to your question. “How’d we do on the dream recreation?” You ask.

Steve grins cheekily. “Oh, in my dream we fucked on the couch.”

[gardenschedule]

Beatles defending each other ❤️

In 1965 [the Byrds] toured England and Paul invited us to his club, the Scotch of St James’s [sic]. He sent a limo to pick us up. He said he had been listening to our music. We were blown away. He took us for a ride through London in his Aston Martin, at great speed. He was really hip, he and John were so tight it was like one person at times. Unlike the Byrds, [where] Crosby would just leave you out to dry, the Beatles all defended each other to the hilt. If you criticised, say, George then they would all respond.

Roger McGuinn, in Paul McCartney: Now & Then, Tony Barrow and Robin Bextor

“They’re four very different people who together form a unit that is virtually impregnable. If, for instance, someone should find fault with anything one of them has done, the others rush to his defence. They close their ranks. They’re very close indeed. A lot closer than people think.”

George Martin, Disc and Music Echo (1967)

And actually, we’ve got the image of him all these years about criticising Paul – yeah, he did, but it’s like [when] you criticise your wife. “I can criticise her, but you can’t.” I was there once when some guy was saying that he didn’t think ‘Let It Be’ was such a great record, and he thought John would agree, and he didn’t.

November 10th, 2009: Journalist Ray Connolly

Q: How did Paul react [to “How Do You Sleep”]?

John: I don’t know because I never saw him, but I think he made a comment last year which was pretty spot-on which was ‘whatever I’m saying about him is my problem, or vice versa.’ The only regret I have about it is that it should never have been about Paul because everybody’s so bothered with who’s it about that they missed the track. That’s what bugged me. I’m entitled to call him what I want to, and vice versa. It’s in our family, but if somebody else calls him names I won’t take it. It’s our own business. And anyway, it’s like Dylan said about his stuff when he looked back on it, it was all about him.

Patrick Synder-Scrumpy with Jack Breschard, “Sometime in L.A., Lennon Plays It as It Lays.” Crawdaddy [March 1974]

"When John did 'How Do You Sleep?' I didn't want to get into a slinging match. Part of it was cowardice. John was a great wit, and I didn't want to go fencing with the rapier champion of East Cheam-- But it meant that I had to take shit--It meant that I had to take lines like 'All you ever did was Yesterday.' I always find myself wanting to excuse John's behavior, just because I loved him. It's like a child, sure he was a naughty child, but don't you call my child naughty. Even if it's me he's shitting on, don't you call him naughty. That's how I felt about this and still do. I don't have a grudge whatsoever against John. I think he knew exactly what he was doing, and, because we had been so intimate, he knew what would hurt me and used it to great effect. I thought, 'Keep your head down and time will tell,' and it did because in the 'Imagine' film (Imagine John Lennon, documentary), he says it was really all about himself."

Barry Miles, Many Years From Now, 1997

“Well the deal was, he could say that, but if you said that, if anybody said anything bad about Paul, John’d take a swing at you. He’d say “you can’t talk about Paul like that”, Paul was his best buddy. If you were talking to Paul and you said something derogatory about John, he’d get up and leave. Paul was more of a peaceful guy, but John had that hot head, and he’d say “you wanna talk about Paul? Let’s go”. You weren’t allowed to say anything bad about John or Paul to each one of them because they would defend each other to the nth degree, which I liked, because you could tell they were attached at the hip.

Alice Cooper Live and Uncut on the Kim Mitchell Show

You know, John loved Paul. No doubt about it. I remember once he said to me, “I’m the only person who’s allowed to say things like that about Paul. I don’t like it when other people do.” He didn’t like if other people said nasty things about Paul. And he always referred to Paul as his estranged fiancé and things like that, like he did on that [live] record ‘I Saw Her Standing There’ with Elton in Madison Square Garden. And he knew that his relationship with Paul was very important to him. But you know, like all great friendships, they’d grown apart and married different people and had different lives. He knew what he didn’t like about Paul, but he also knew what he liked about Paul.

1990: Former Beatles publicist Tony King

George didn’t mind slagging Paul off. But he HATED other people doing it.

Tom Petty

When I talk about George, sometimes I feel like I’m making him sound too much like he was a saint. By no means was the man a saint! Over the years with him and John, they could both be really brutal with Paul. I learned very early on that I couldn’t join them. They both on different occasions said, “We can say that, but you shouldn’t.” They were truly brothers who loved taking the piss out of each other, but they didn’t want anybody else doing it.

Jim Keltner on George Harrison

I felt protective of George. He was a long way from home and seemed to miss the attention of his family. The other boys were more grown up and so were a little less concerned with all that. I know, for example, that he always looked up to John, and probably even Stu, as big-brother figures. And conversely, it was sometimes difficult for them not to see George as something of a pain for being so young. Still, in their own way, they loved him. We all did. Even when things were pretty rough they all stuck together. They often argued amongst themselves, but just let an outsider have a go at one of them and the sparks would fly. At first they were close out of necessity; later it was out of love.”

Astrid Kirchherr

[chilahh16]

" So what if it's us?"

Funny how all the expectations we have comes crumbling down - how the standard and type are erased with one simple truth. Max Verstappen would have laughed mockingly if someone had told him that no one has a type, that he would settle down for someone far from the standard that he has. Who was he to not gloat about someone of equal standing - attractive, hot, wealthy, and has a model-like body. He is a Formula 1 driver, a champion for goodness sake hence, he only needed the best of the best.

So imagine the surprise of himself, as well as everyone that had known him, how smitten he is of the present. He became so despairingly different from his past self - the man who was always in a relationship with women older than he is, the stoic, mad man that people made him out to be; the scarred man and the champion that he is was stooped to a stuttering mess in front of her.

She was always the simple one. Pants with plain shirt, summer dress and flats, and all things that screams plain. However, behind the plainness, an ethereal glow and elegance surround her. The genuine smile she always seem to wear brightens his day of bad and a simple gesture of congratulations always melt his heart. But she is someone Max could never dare touch nor would he think so.

He can still remember what Daniel had said when he caught him staring at her, ' She's not someone to be meddled with. She's far too pure for you, mate.' It sucked and it hurt because it was true. She really is like no other. That Y/n Albon, beloved sister of his friend and colleague, Alex Albon.

Their meeting was like every other. He saw her at the Singapore GP. Her entrance at the paddock with her brother caused heads to turn. Someone who thought she was Alex's new woman was dumb, and Max was that. He was not the gossip type but he gaped at them, unknowingly smacking Daniel's arm. He can still remember vividly the embarrassment he felt after knowing the truth. And it was at that day that he realized how precious she was. From the protective stance Alex had, the intentional close distance and the glare he sent away to men who stared longer than necessary proved his point. Because Alex knew that bringing his sister meant walking directly to the lion's lair. He knew of what his friends are, and as much as he can, he'll shield his sister of the fate many women fell to. Even the Daniel Ricciardo warned many that the woman is not a territory to trespass.

Hence, Max was dissolved to just watching from afar. Unlike everybody else, he cannot stand to have a conversation with the Albon woman. His vocabulary would always fail him and he envy the others that had shared her company. He had also come to hate how his other colleagues stare at her - like a prize after a treacherous battle. But one thing that had always bugged him is of how George sees her. Even of how mad others might think of him, he knew all too well the eyes that Russel has whenever he spoke with Y/n. The deep affection is palpable to everyone and he handles her with so much care that people would talk of his chivalry.

It was irritating. It irked him to no end.

But who was he to feel such when she is not his - to love, care, protect, and flaunt to the world. Truthfully, he was scared. Scared that being close to her would allow him to taint her genuineness. He is terrified of how his life could turn hers upside down. She's fragile in his eyes no matter how people whisper of the strong, independent woman that they came to love. Hence, he drowned himself in overthinking. The voices of his father and of the demons he kept at bay, ran rampage in his mind as they ridicule him of how he is a coward. How low he has come of falling for someone as common as she when the women before her can be called equal as him.

He let himself sway to the music of the rapid and messy ways of his life. He let himself sink into the ghost of fear and unattached himself completely to those raven orbs of hers that he could swim to. But how traitor life is. As he stood atop the VIP lounge enjoying the control of modern music blasting in the spacious club as the entire grid celebrated yet another win from him, his eyes wandered to the bodies on the dancefloor and it widened as he saw her awkwardly sitting behind the bar, nursing on something that he could tell was water. A smile made its way to his face as he saw how she does not fit in the setting. She's looking curiously to the people dancing sensually while making sure that Alex and his other friends are within sight.

Everything seemed to stop and he can only see her. Maybe what they said was true. Falling for the right person does things to someone, unexplainable. He did not even realize as he left the lounge and made way to her. He navigated his way amongst drunk and passionate people. He did not stray and as he stands behind her, all he could do was utter a dumb ' It's nice to see you here.'

" Huh?... Oh! Max, hi!" Y/n said surprised yet she smiled as she saw the face of his brother's friend.

" I'm sorry if I scared you. It's just..."

" No worries. It's nice to see another familiar face here. Al and Danny are over there if you're looking for them." She pointed towards the dancefloor, waving the man's concern.

" I- Actually... would you like to go outside to get some fresh air?" Max surprisingly questioned without so much stuttering.

He mentally patted his back for the sudden boost of confidence, as well as of the agreed nodding from Y/n.

" So, how come you're here? I mean, you know, you, here...um in a club." Max stuttered, deflating the boost of ego he had before they made it outside.

" Al brought me here. Since he cannot leave me alone at the hotel, he had to take me. It was just for an hour but seeing as he's enjoying himself, I just let him be. And congratulations on your win today." Y/n explained as they both sit on the sidewalk, a few feet away from the club, far enough to see when her brother comes out.

" Why do you seem so surprised that I'm here? Is it so obvious how awkward I was?" the woman shyly giggled.

Max nodded at that. It was indeed true, she does not fit in her brother's lifestyle. She that craves peace amongst all others, must stand in the spotlight as an extended part of being Alex Albon's sister. It was fun most times, she love the fans and the roar of the engine whenever it came to life, yet it is equally draining. The F1 world is chaotic, messy and full of drama. A driver's personal life is limited as his image demands the public to know. And Y/n does not like that. She has always been a private person - no socials or anything, and her pictures are only seen from her brother's account, or from Lily, family, and closest friends.

Max further realized the depths of how private Y/n truly is - how she values peace amongst all others, as they continue to converse. She was totally different, he deduced. Luxury does not appeal to her and she loves to have family and friends around for a get together.

All hesitations that he had before was washed away from how comfortable it is to speak with her. She is not just some pretty face like everybody else, she pairs it with a witty and bright mind. Even at 23 years old, she has a mature perception in life and he is weak for he fell so much more.

" I like you, you know." he breathed as he continue to stare at her, talking animatedly about something she is passionate about.

It shocked the hell out of him when she stopped talking and stared confused at him before a small smile grace her lips.

" I know. Danny and Lando had been telling me. Al was even furious when he heard it." she laughed at how his eyes turned saucer whilst his whole face turned cherry tomato.

Yet Y/n continued.

"Danny said that you've been watching like a hawk every time I'm around. He had teased me of how much you would run away whenever I am near."

Max did not know how to respond to that. He was always the confident type - though stoic but he knows his way with words. Yet now, his brain refused to form coherent sentences. Y/n saw it and she hummed thoughtfully before saying.

" You're a fine man, Max. No one would debate that. You have everything women desired and they flock around you everyday. So, I don't understand why you would like a plain, old simple me."

" You're right. But maybe it is that simplicity that I needed in my life." He countered, looking amongst the cars passing by.

" You'll bore yourself in the long run, you know."

" How can you decide that simplicity is boring?" Max challenged.

"I'm not. It's just...I'm different, Max. You see for yourself how unfit I am in my brother's lifestyle. I cannot forego with all the luxury. Too much riches suffocates me and I have nothing in my name except being Formula 1 driver, Alexander Albon's sister."

" Now that's where you're wrong." Max began as he gazed into the night.

" Everyone knows how you and Alex are two different people. Even when everyone does not see you...I see you clearly. I fell for the simple Y/n. The woman who wore the most plain of clothes. The one that cares and is kind to everyone. The one who lightens people's days. I see the Y/n who tops her class, the Y/n that loves architecture that she got a degree for it. I only see the Y/n as Y/n and not as a sister to my colleague."

" You know, you sound sappy right?" Y/n remarked that earned a laugh from the man beside her.

But she knew, even when the Max Verstappen avoided looking directly at her, she saw the sincerity in his eyes as it gleamed in the evening light. People were wrong. There was no mad Max at all. Because looking at the man beside her, Y/n only saw a man so sincere while bearing the scars that has yet to heal. She saw Max and not the Max.

As they bask in the warmth of each other, the silence breathe life to the words unsaid, to the scars and insecurities they bear. And as they leaned towards each other, the voices that ridiculed and made fun of Max fell silent.

" You're more than what they say you are, Max Verstappen. You're genuine." Y/n muttered in the silent night, earning a confused hum from the Dutch.

" People named you Mad Max though I see no light to such title. In my time attending Grand Prix's, I have heard the stories and the hushed whispers. I saw you get angry before but, I failed to see how they called you mad. You, however, looked torn. And I seem to have an idea now."

" You do?"

" Yes. We may not have conversed much before but looking at the now, I see how tough you are on yourself. How you drag yourself to be the best. How you showed to everyone that nothing can sway the hard exterior that you built...I have nothing to say that would excuse what had happened before in your life but, you're enough, you know. Champion or not. You deserve every good thing in life."

The confidence that came when Y/n said it stirred something in him. He has heard every gruesome thing growing up. From the terrible childhood trauma to the disgust of people who hate to see him win. He took everything with head held high hence, he wondered why he has his head hang low when he heard that 'he's enough'. Maybe it was because she's one of the people who made him believe that he is not so bad himself. Apart from his mother and sister, she actually see the boy with his demons. And he realized at that moment, there is no going back. The woman beside him is someone he knew he needed. Like how he need air to breathe, how he sought to win the championship every season. He really does like her -no, scratch that, he love her.

" Thank you for keeping me company, Max. I had a great time." Y/n said as she got up from leaning at him, eyes trained outside the club as her brother, along with Danny and Lando stumbled drunkenly towards them.

She walked towards Alex as Max slowly got up from his sitting. That's when Lando saw him. The Brit wasted no time in jumping towards the Dutch man. Slurring in his laugh as he relish in the company of friends. Max was unable to say anything more as Y/n guided Alex to his car. He traced every curve of her face as the worry for her brother's well-being got the better of her. How he would love to be at the receiving end of such worry if it came from her. But it can never be. And Daniel saw the longing from his eyes even with his intoxicated self.

He pity his friend. It makes him somber to know that even with clear reciprocation of the love he has for the woman, he cannot act upon such feelings with how his situation is looking. Daniel knows that Max is a just fool. He will never jeopardize others happiness for his. He is a taken man and it further solidified the truthfulness of the situation as his girlfriend,Kelly, walked out the club's door and towards the Dutch. She latch herself to him, marking her territory and making a statement that he is hers.

And as Daniel looked at Y/n, pain was also present in the Albon woman's eyes as she had it trained on the hands that held Max. Envy was a feeling she hated but it overpowered everything in that moment. She hated herself for feeling such. She already crossed the line when she agreed to come outside - though nothing major happened, but she felt herself go greedy for him. She felt disgusted at the thought that came around. How low of her to have feelings for a man taken and has been responsible for a beautiful growing child.

Y/n will not be wicked as to strip Penelope of a father figure. She will take the bitter pill for life just to ensure the child is growing in an environment with peace and love.

" Let's get you back, Al." was all she said without so much as looking back at him.

' Look at me.'

Y/n was unable to see the desperate look on Max as he followed her figure. If only she had turned to look, just once, she would have seen the depths of the feelings he had and the realization that was evident in his eyes. Maybe they could act on the feelings they try so hard to hide, but there was no chance at all. Not for them. Not at this time. Even with the confession that was laid bare, both Y/n and Max could not find it in themselves relief. Everything was weighing them down and neither know how to proceed from this. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe they are passing character in each other's stories, but it still hurts. Because they both know the truth, they love each other so much that they wil take the hurt themselves so others can be happy. And Y/n smiled bitterly at the thought, unaware of the look her brother gave her.

Indeed it was true, loving him hurts just as equally as he loves her.

[emotionally-damaged-carrot]

Charles leclerc x male reader

Reader is sneaking around with Charles (while madly in love with him) and he's carlos's little brother

Possible f1 car fucking while in the garage after a race or at night

Charles Leclerc x Male reader

"Brother's teammate"

Holy fuck this pic makes me go feral, just legit gives me the horny hormones. Makes me want to "NGHH~" every time I see it, I want him to devour me.

Anyway sorry it took a while, been very busy lately, and sorry if it's kinda messy. It's honestly a lot longer than what I had in mind, hope you still enjoy tho 🙏

Warning: smut, kinky car smut or something, obviously hard core cause rawr

(also I used google translate, don't come at me 🙏)

Holy fuck I was busy last week and the week prior, sorry it took so long. I didnt proof read cause it's too long and idk what I even wrote, I just wanted to get this out cause it's been bugging me for some time now. Hope you lot still enjoyed even though it might be shit 🤷‍♂️. You get what you get and you don't bitch about it, jk, might not do anymore f1 ccar fucks holy shit. Peace ✌️

I was never interested in motor sports, until Carlos joined ferrari and got a demi god for a teammate. I never attended any of his races and until he went to ferrari.

"You've attended every race ever since I joined ferrari, what happened?" Carlos asked me as we were walking through the paddock.

"Can't I support my older brother in his passion?" I asked feigning annoyance while also looking around for a certain monegasque driver.

"When your brother hated something suddenly take interest in the thing he hates, is quite concerning, no?" He asked me with confusion laced in his voice.

"And? Come on, Carlos, people change, you know this." I say as I spot the monegasque, my eyes lighting up. He was talking with Lando, he briefly looked up and we made eye contact giving me a smirk.

"Y/n. Y/n. Y/n." I look up as I get cut off from my starstruck sate, seeing Carlos a few feet infront of me.

"¿Qué diablos pasó? What happened y/n?" Carlos says approaching me.

"N-nothing, just, uhm, r-remembered something." I say, looking down to hide the blush crawling up my neck.

"Doesn't seem like nothing, you okay?" He asks confused and concerned, as he put the back of his hand on my forehead.

"Yea, yea, I'm fine." I say as I removed his hand from my forehead. 'He knew what he was doing, if only he wasn't so sexy with that smile and that french accent.'

"What happened here, Carlos?" The light pink of my cheeks now getting redder as I recognized the accent of the person speaking, and the familliar smell. 'Charles'.

"I don't know, he says he's fine but suddenly stopped and blushed while looking down. I have to go now though, so can you watch over him for a bit?" Carlos says, still worried and confused.

"I think he's just dehydrated, I'll take him to get water, you go ahead and do what you need to do." Charles says as he wraps and arm around my shoulder, with his body a bit too close.

"Good to know I have that effect on you." He says as I look up, to see Carlos gone.

"You're a dick, Leclerc." I said with a chuckle and finally standing up properly and leaning my head on his shoulder.

"I know you love my dick, but, keep it for later, bit hassle here in the paddock, no?" He says in a whisper as he leaned down to my ear.

"I swe- I-I wi- I hate- I loathe you." I say as I bury my head further into his shoulder.

He just gives a chuckle and leads me to the caf. I look around, I see George, Alex, Lando and Danny sitting at a table. 'Perfect'

"Let's sit over there with the rest of the quartet and dan." I motioning to them with a wicked smile on my lips.

"You'll regret it, darling." He says as he laughs. We made our way to the table, greeted everyone and sat down beside each with Danny to my left and Charles to my right.

"Thank God, y/n, we have a question, and only you can fix this at the moment." George says with a serious look on his face meanwhile the others had smiles on theirs.

"What is it?" I say now a bit curious.

"Did Carlos really understand Lando when he said "soy lago"? Did Carlos understand what Lando meant or no?" George asked looking directly at my eyes.

"If I'm honest, I didn't bother to ask him. He probably needed Lando to explain it tho." I say with a huff, and looking at Lando who looked happy.

"I will take that as "Carlos did not understand what Lando meant." I guess I was right then, Lando is still shit at spanish." George said now laughing at Lando.

As the other two bickered, I felt Charles sit down next to me now with a tray of food.

"When did you get that?" I asked confused, surely my interaction with George wasn't that long.

"As soon as you sat down I went to get food." He says with a smile while handing me a sandwich, and orange juice.

"Sure hope you're not as fast later." I whispered to his ear giving it a bite.

"I like taking my time when it comes to you, you know, I like savouring the moment. The way you would moan my name and beg for me, it's honestly hot. Especially the way you look all red and gasping under me." Charles whispers to my ear, accent heavier and teeth grazing my ear.

'He knows I love it when he does that, fuck.'

"Y-you're not allowed to do that unless you're about to fuck me to next week." I say a bit loud and hitting his shoulder.

"Excuse me, what?" Lando says surprised with wide eyes, same with George.

Charles laughs loudly, bending forward and burrying his face in his arms on the desk.

"You're excused." I say sarcastically and blushing way too hard now, that it's comparable to Charle's shirt.

"W-w-wait, you two are... a thing??" George asks more like shouted, surprised.

"You might as well put out a PSA while you're asking, George." I say annoyed and even more embarrassed now, as almost everyone was looking at us, it's not helping that Charles is still hysterically laughing into the table.

"Sorry, was just surprised, like, when? How? Why? What??" George asked looking a bit excited to hear the answers.

"Hola Amigos, what's happening?" Carlos said beside me, putting an arm around my shoulder.

Charles lifts his head up a bit, looking at me and starts to laugh even more, seeing that I am now very red, redder than before.

"Carlos, mate, n-nothing, really h-happened I g-guess y/n is just feeling a b-bit warm r-right now." Charles answers, trying his hardest to stop his laughter even for a bit.

"I fucking hate you." I said silently but audible enough for both Carlos and Charles to hear.

"Okay, I'm just gonna grab some food then I have to go back for testing." Carlos says skeptically still not fully convinced that nothing was happening. As he went to get his food I grabbed Charles' hand and dragged him outside. Leaving a giggling Lando and George behind.

As he exitted Charles was calmer now and ceased laughing as he saw my face a bit angry.

"I can change your mood." He said out of nowhere and then taking the lead, walking us both to a secluded enough part of the paddock where almost no one goes. Stopping as we arrived, he took both my hands and stared at my eyes, green orbs meeting mine. After a few seconds, we dove right into each other, lips sliding past the other smoothly. His tounge licking my bottom lip asking for entrance, I obliged eagerly while letting out small moans. His hands now on my hips and mine tangled in his hair, pulling from time to time to hear his groans. Our tounges fighting for dominance, which I obviously lost, and now his tounge is exploring my mouth, like his mapping out the places in case he got lost, or simply to memorize the crevices of my teeth, the texture of my cheeks or the feeling of my tounge gently poking his.

Our heated kissing caused him to pin me against a nearby wall, slamming me against it with a bit of force, but his hand was already at the back of my head tangled in my hair, providing cushion. The hand that remained on my hip squeezed tight, making me open my mouth wider.

"There we go, all gone, you look much better now." Charles says with a smirk as he rests his forehead against mine. Both of us breathing heavily, in need of air after that intense make out session.

"I fucking hate you." I say, now in a daze, lazily resting my body against the wall and looking at his eyes. Admiring his eyes, like they are gems of unfathomable beauty that only a God can comprehend.

"You know you don't."

"No, I don't."

We both chuckle as we fixed ourself and walked out in the open, and headed to the garage for him to get ready for the race.

—

After the race, Carlos got P2 and Charles got P1 with Lando getting P3, what a surprise, no Max on the podium. Probably because of the crash with yuki.

As they spray each other with champagne, I stand on the side with the rest of the ferrari team, waiting for them to get down.

—

After all the media and partying, I found myself alone with Charles, walking back to the garage.

"What exactly did you forget?" I asked confused as we were the only ones left in the garage when we walked in.

"This." He said, and I turned to look at him in confusion, only to be met by a pair of lips on mine and my back against the door. His tounge immidiately went in for the kill, no teasing, and he was in no mood to fight a battle he would always win. He pushed my tounge down everytime I tried to move it remotely close to his.

"You're kinky, Leclerc, I guessing you want to fuck me on your car?" I asked as I pulled back, I needed to pull his head back as well to prevent him from chasing me. Which I succeeded hearing a disappointed groan from him.

"You're my lucky charm, and of course I wanna bless my car with luck as well." He mumbles as he dove into my neck, biting, sucking and kissing every part he can reach. I moaned as I felt him lick a few drops of sweat.

"I drank pineapple juice earlier, incase you wanted to know." He said now biting harder, one of my legs get held up by his strong arms, I peak down to his biceps. Seeing them bulge and seeing the veins from his hand up to his arm, brought me arousal that I didn't know was even possible. Slowly my hands began to wonder into the hems of his jeans and shirt, caressing his abs and teasing his boxers.

"You're a fucking tease, mi amor. And I'm in no mood for that, do me a favour and get on your knees." He says giving one last hard bite on my neck making me pull on his hair, surely leaving teeth marks on my neck. I do as he says, he let go of me completely and I kneel infront of him, my hands on my lap and my eyes trained on his green ones thst are now darker.

"You look so pretty like that, all eager and ready for me. You like that don't you?" He says in a low tone and squatting so we're face to face once more. He put his hand on my chin, his thumb playing with my bottom lip.

"You know this is where you belong right?" He asks in a loving manner, and I nod to answer his question.

"This is what you were meant to be, my fuck toy." He said now smirking as he let go of my chin and stood up.

"Remember how I told you I drank pineapple juice earlier?" I didn't need to be told twice, as soon as the words pineapple juice left his mouth, I immidiately unbutton and unzipped his pants. Now standing in from of me with only his shirt and boxers that can barely contain the monster of monaco.

"Wow, eager." He says as he smiles down at me. I removed his boxers letting it fall on the floor along with his pants. My hand snapped to grab a hold of the beauty that's inches from my mouth, I opened my mouth to devour his meat. As I slowly take it in he suddenly jerked forward and put his hand behind my head to pull me in, making me deep throat him.

"Fuck, I always miss your mouth whenever I'm racing, remembering how you like it when I fuck you after working out or after racing." He says as he looked in bliss and letting out small gasps of air. I full on choke, tears running down my cheeks. I tried to pull back, but he kept me down for a second longer before pulling me back. His cock now covered in my spit some of it dripping down to his balls and falling on his pants.

"I'm sorry, I just needed that." He says as he steps out of his boxers and pants. His hand running through my hair as I continue on coughing, my face turning a bit red.

"You always looked good when you're red." He said as he grabbed my hair rough and making me look up at him, tears running down my cheeks, spit dripping down the sides of my mouth.

"You look fucking delicious right now, amour. If only you could see how you look." He says as he pushes his cock against my lips, my mouth opening on instinct, and letting him push it. But now he does it slowly and more gently than earlier.

"That's it, good boy. You've always been my good boy, haven't you?" He says as I slowly suck his cock feeling the veins against my tounge. I look up at him to see how much pleasure I bring him, my own cock hard as a rock from the groans and moans his letting out.

"Fuck, if you keep looking at me like that, I will hold you down and cum down your throat." He says in between groans and his hips stuttered a bit. A sign that he's close. I keep sucking in a slow and steady pace, taking my time.

"I'm gonna cum." He suddenly says and pushed my head down, making me choke again. I feels his cum going down my throat as I cough around his cock.

"Fuck." I heard his say under his breat as he pulls my head back and making me look up at him, a string of spit and cum connect my lips to his cock.

"You're fucking beautiful, darling." He says, his thumb caressing my bottom lip, feeling and smearing the mixture around.

"Now I want you to be a good boy, strip and bend over the side of my car." I do as he says with eagerness, as I strip down to nothing I feel his eyes on me. I feel his lust filled gaze staring at me, specifically, my ass. After stripping I so ceremoniously took my time to walk and bend over the side of the car. Making sure to sway my hips making my ass jiggle.

"You are such a fucking tease."

"You love it."

"I'll detroy you the moment I get to you, I will make sure you will feel whose dick it was that made you unable to walk for a week. I will make sure you won't forget that ache inside you whenever I fuck you, I will make sure you won't forget who it is that can do that to you... I will make you, you forget your name and only remember mine as you moan it for the world to know. That I am the one you belong to."

Charles said as he approached me slowly until he is right behind me, his tip gently probing at my hole. He slowly wrapped himself around me as he whispered the last parts to my ear with the rasp and growl that I love.

"I will make you beg for me to stop."

I said as he entered me in one swift motion and biting my ear. I out loud surprised by his actions. My legs almost gave and but my arms already did, I lay my torso on the side of the car my face in the cockpit 'it still smells like him' I thought to myself as I breathed deeply, inhaling his musk. He continued to fuck into me roughly, one of his hands now on my hair pulling it hard making me moan in pain. I can hear him breathing heavily the other hand on my waist is gripping it hard, leaving marks. Being overwhelmed with pain and pleasure I came unannounced on the side of the car a few drops managing to get on the seat.

"D-did you just cum?"

He asked with pauses in between words to catch his breath.

"F-fuuuck, S-sorry."

I apologized as his grip on my waist tightened, he continued mercilessly fucking into me like I am a toy. Tears now streaming down my face dropping on the seat mixing with my sweat.

"Y-you should've a-atleast told m-fuck."

He couldn't finish his sentence as he came deep inside me. Painting my red walls white. He continued to fuck into me slowly.

"Since, you came without even telling me. How about you won't cum for the a week, starting now."

He said slowly breathing normally as he started moving fast and hard, pulling me up against his chest I can feel his sweat on my back and the ones dropping from his hair. I laid my head on his shoulder as he buries his face on my neck: kissing, licking, biting and leaving marks. My hands go to his hands that are holding me tight against him.

"You always taste good and sound heavenly."

He said against my neck as he breathe heavily. He continued to fuck into me, dropplets of sweat dropping on the car and the floor, I can feel his previous load being pushed out of my as he came again deep inside me. This time not stopping or slowly down, i tried to hold down my own orgasm so as to not disobey him and make my punishment worse.

"I'm still hard and ready to go, I can do this all night y/n. You better not cum or I'm putting a cock ring on you."

He said on my ear as one of his hands snaked up my body and wrapped around my neck. My hands gripping the side of the cockpit and he continued to fuck into me without stopping, his heavy breathes against my neck my ear and his grip on my neck is too much. I couldn't hold back anymore and I came again.

"You are really naughty tonight."

He said in between heavy breathes and he gripped my dick, and pumping it up and down, that combined with his heavy thrusts and the feeling of being full to the point his cum is overflowing was too much. I tried to push his hand away and push his hips away, pushing against his abs.

"P-please, C-c-charlessss, too m-m-much."

I said in between moans and labored groans.

"You're my toy, y/n, and toys don't talk back to their owner, do they? They just sit there and let it happen."

He said breathing in-between words and he grabbed both my hands in his right and held them tight not letting them move. And his left hand continued to stroke me.

"Be a good boy and take what I give you, you don't have a say in this, amor."

He said against my ear as my moans turned to screaming of his name and begging him to stop.

"Do you really want me to stop, hm?"

He asked me as he slowed down a bit, already missing the pain and ache. I shake my head and asked him why he stopped as tears streamed down my face.

"Well, people might hear you begging me to stop, I guess I have to do something as that mouth of yours."

He said between breathes as the hand that was holding my return to my neck as and slowly went up to my mouth, putting his middle and ring finger inside.

"Suck."

He commanded and I immidiately obeyed, moaning around his fingers as he continued his previous pace.

"F-fuck."

He whispered after a bit, I felt him cum inaide my again, my cock now all ready begging to cum as well.

"If you cum I won't fuck you for a week."

He said with a chuckle. I just whimpered and pushed back against him, feeling his sweaty body sliding against mine.

"P-p-please, I n-n-need."

Only a few words came out of my mouth as he continued again, my hole now very sore. And his thrusts became more and more painful, I bit his fingers that were inside my mouth.

"F-fuck, I'm tired."

He said as he removed his fingers from my mouth and stopped stroking me. I immidiately came as he pulled out. I leaned heavily on the car as I couldn't feel my legs.

"You okay?"

He asked in a soft voice and he made me face him and wiped the tears that were still running down my face and moved the hair sticking to my forehead.

"T-tired."

I said sleepily.

"I know, amor, d-did I go too far."

He asked me worried that he hurt me in a way I didn't like.

"N-no, just perfect."

"Good, we should get dressed so we can return to the hotel. I will clean up you can get dressed first, can you dress yoursel?"

He asked as he carried me gently putting me down on the floor next to our clothes.

"C-can't my body hurts."

I said as I looked at him he already put on his boxers.

"I'll help you, let me just clean up the mess first."

He said as he looked at my lovingly.

"T-thank you."

I said as I passed out from the exhaustion on the floor.

"Sorry if I tired you out, it's just I we haven't done it in weeks and I miss you."

I heard him say before sleeping.

Holyshit it took so long idk what happened to the ending.

[clarkeyhill]

Borders| George Clarke

(Final Part)

Smut (HEAVY!) | Fluff

-

Thanks? Is that it? Like you weren't just lost for words at my presence in front of you, okay George. You shake your head, as you scoff. You leave the studio and meet Chris at the door "you ready to go?" He asks "more than fucking ready" you huff "woah woah, attitude?" He's taken aback "why did you ask me here Chris? Why did you ask me to do this? To prove a point? To win?" You stand in your tracks "no! What are you talking about?" His face drops, oblivious of why you were reacting the way you were "I'll get my own ride home, bye" you turn on your heels, why did George going on that date bug you so much when you knew you couldn't engage with him? You slip your AirPods in your ear as you make your way for the tube, shaking the situation out of your head as your volume is up to full.

The London lights start to glisten as the night draws in, you arrive back at the flat. Chris and Arthur sat on the sofa, you walk to your bedroom immediately. Slamming the door behind you as you slump yourself in the chair. Scrolling through your phone, Chris knocks on your door "what's wrong with you?" He says closing the door behind him "nothing I'm fine, I'm tired" you say "that's not tired that's pure jealous frustration, don't act like I don't know" he says raising a brow "it's not, you just made me look like an idiot infront of everyone, thanks now leave me alone" you say opening your phone "hey! No I didn't" he defends "yes you fucking did! You told George not to pick me and he didn't, you had this all planned and it's a joke, don't air the footage because I've removed my consent to be apart of it" you say "y/n no! You don't get to do this because you didn't get your way" he folds his arms "whatever Chris, just get out" you turn away to face away from him as he huffs, leaving the room.

Hours go past and it reaches 9pm, George wasn't home either. You couldn't help but think what he was doing, if the date went well and they're doing what you've wanted to do since you got here. You stare at your ceiling, when your phone lights up.

George: Be at the Berkeley in 30 minutes.

You: Why?

George: just be there okay?

You huff, the Berkeley? A hotel? We literally share a flat what do you need me to meet you at a hotel for, you question. But yet, you went. Grabbing your keys you throw on the clothes you went out in as you leave the flat. You call an Uber and make your way to the hotel. You were confused to say the least. You get out the Uber and George isn't there, where is he.

You: where are you?

George: room 203

You: room???

You're even more confused, why has he got a hotel room? You shake your head, making your way up the lift to the hotel room. You knock on the door, as George opens it to reveal him just in shorts "hey" he says as he smiles "why do you have a hotel room?" You say stepping in "I sent her home" he replies "ew George I don't wanna be here if you've done the-" you're cut off by George's lips smashing against yours, you don't fight it instead you reply in a desperate matter, the kisses becoming sloppy each time, he pulls away "she was never here, I took her for a coffee and said I didn't feel connected to her, Chris booked this in advance and it was better not to go to waste" he says in a pant "but George" you say confused "she wasn't you y/n, you drive me fucking insane, I could hardly keep it together when you walked out, my mind wandered, then Chris said I couldn't pick you, so I didn't" he said cupping your cheek "I'm sorry for the blunt text, I didn't want to give it away, this was my plan all along even if you weren't on the shoot" he admits, you don't know how to respond. Instead you let your actions do that for you.

You grab him by the shirt pulling him into you, your tongues collide as the kiss becomes more passionate, the brush of George's teeth on your lip felt like ecstasy. You spin him and push him onto the bed as you straddle his lap "show me how much I drive you insane, playboy" you tease, slipping your tee over your head. Revealing the blue set he picked out, he bites his lip as his hands trail up your curves, taking in the view like a golden ticket, he trails his hands up to the clasp of your bra, unhooking it with one hand in ease. Letting your breasts spill out "you're so fucking hot" his voice raspy as you lean down to his neck, placing kissing onto it as his hands grip your waist, you feel him becoming harder beneath you; signalling his urgency. He flips you round so you're now beneath him, your breath hitches as his broad body hover over you "you don't know how long I've waited for this" he mutters as you bite your lip "good things come to those who wait, remember?" You tease as he slips his fingers into the seam of your trousers, sliding them down to reveal the matching thong to your bra "blue looks amazing on you by the way" he smirks as his eyes take in the view "fuck me george" you plea, his eyes darken lust washes over him as he lowers his shorts and boxers , revealing the tent underneath them he starts pumping himself into his hand you you bite your lip, his finger slips to your core; circling it as you bury your head into duvet, crumbling under his touch he teases your entrance with his tip, motioning up and down "p-please" you beg "good things come to those who wait, darling" he teases, using your words against you only made you want it more. He gives in and thrusts into you sending your head jolting back "holy fuck!" You exclaim as he grips your legs "you feel so good" he praises, sending you into overdrive he cups on of your breasts, circling your nipple as he continues. You feel yourself letting go underneath him "fuck George faster!" You plea, urgency rushes over you knowing you were close to your climax, he picks up the pace, becoming more sloppier over time "oh god, George!" You whine as you reach your max, his face lights up with pure satisfaction as he pulls out, looking at you with desire. You take a second to catch your breath before you tell him to lay down. He nods as he positions himself on the bed, you throw your leg over him as you slide him inside you, your hips swaying as you ride him. His grip becomes tight on your waist as he holds you in place, his head perched back as you bounce "you're so fucking pretty" he praises once again as you hire your lip, you can't lie you could get used to this appraisal. With every bounce you feel George twinge as his nails dig deeper into your waist "ah fuck!" He groans as he reaches his max, you both pant as you get off him. Slumping next to him.

"That was fucking amazing" he pants "you can say that again" you giggle as you move up to lean on his chest "now I'm glad we broke the rules" he says looking up at you "me too, but we need to tell Chris" you admit.

"Oh he knows" George says "what?" You say confused "this was all a ploy we had, he was gonna invite you, make me say yes then send me with someone else and then send you here" he says "what the fuck" you add "guess you could say, it was for a good cause and he did a good fucking job of it" George chuckles as you do too, burying your head into his chest.

You were glad you crossed the borders. Because he was right on it.

-

🫶🏻

[chilling-seavey]

I thought of this for TWIG but for when the reader is in her second trimester and so sex hungry, she accompanies George to a race and they stay up most of the night having sex that when George goes to the track for media day. He cannot be angry at her as he watches her peacefully sleeping

For realllll...there's nothing like a luxury 5-star hotel room king size bed. But, let's be totally honest here, it kinda started in the two-person tub after that delicious room service dinner spread. The hotel suite high enough to not be concerned about the floor to ceiling window that the tub was centered on, the darkness of the foreign city beyond acting as a gorgeous backdrop to your love and lust.

It's not like George was unfamiliar with hotel suites — in all honesty he was quite numb to their grandeur by that point in his career — and you weren't much different with your own little travel bug and your modest hospitality background. So it wasn't like either of you could blame the excitement of a hotel stay on the reason you were all over the each other not even a good five minutes into your shared bathtub soak. No, it was entirely your unfathomable love for each other—and that George wasn't great at turning away your advances, especially when you were so pretty and pregnant with his baby.

And the water in the free-standing porcelain tub grew cold as the minutes passed, little waves sloshing over the sides in time with your motions, ungracefully riding him with your hands gripping the edge of the bath. His eyes would be all over you to but mostly staring up at your face, his hands greedy on your hips, guiding you, encouraging you. When you were both pleasantly satisfied, you would shiver together in the now-cool water for a few moments, you still perched on his lap, sharing warm kisses. Then you would both get out of the tub onto the dangerously slippery floor—George with a firm grip on your hand to keep you steady.

When you were both wrapped in towels, the remainder of the linen was tossed onto the floor to mop up the spilled bathwater. George caught a glimpse of the way your towel was wrapped around you, pulled a little tight over the swell of your stomach, and he would go to give you a kiss as you brushed out your hair at the vanity. Rookie mistake, really, because you would never allowed it to just be a kiss.

Because before he knew it, you were up on the expensive natural stone countertop and he was knelt in front of it, your legs over his shoulders and towel aimlessly draped open. And he looked up at you with hooded eyes, lashes looking too heavy with lust and pupils blown wide, mouth taken up between your legs in ways that had you writhing. You definitely knocked a few bottles off the counter in your euphoria, sending them to the floor with a crash that neither of you acknowledged.

And then the very obvious tent left behind under George's towel when he stood up between your legs had you tugging at the expensive linen. It fell to the floor, leaving him bare and gloriously handsome in front of you and in seconds the night was taken right to the bedroom.

That gorgeous king size bed with the built-in headboard and sleek modern design that neither of you even bothered to admire. Naked and warm from your shared bath and your shared lust, clean skin against clean skin, the two of you made an absolute mess of the once pristinely made bed. Throw pillows thrown to the floor, duvet rumpled and sheets untucked, pillows dotted in drool and tears and bathwater that lingered in the ends of your hair.

God bless the vice-regal suite too because there were only two on the floor of the hotel so it made it feel far less incriminating to be loud than if you had a multitude of neighbours. Especially when you might as well have been recreating the Kama Sutra with how many positions you pulled that night, all over the bed and all over each other. It was so easy to be loud when you were pregnant; everything just felt so much more intense like all of your nerve endings tripled in sensitivity. Someone might have thought you were filming some adult film in the next room. But George was right there with you, sharing in your pleasure, spurred on by the sounds you made.

It was so easy to loose track of time like that, desperate to get your fix of each other, nothing ever feeling like enough. And George had the anticipation of the race weekend to go off of, using that excess energy in all the right ways. Besides, it was only media day the following day so what would it really matter? All that mattered was you laying there in bed and leaking with his cum (so much too) and absolutely glowing with his baby inside you; it was a fiercely primal mindset that almost scared him with how intense it felt. Nothing felt like that before you.

He ordered you something to eat from room service when you were done at some ungodly hour of the night—something you were craving—and you ate it happily in bed, lips still swollen from all your kissing and cheeks still rouged from the night's events. And you fell asleep together in the mess of the bed, limbs half sticking out from under the skewed duvet, George with one arm draped above his head and your cheek on his chest.

And he felt like he merely blinked before his alarm was going off in the morning. You stayed asleep like a freakin' log beside him while he was struggling to get his wits about him enough to reach for his phone and turn off the blaring alarm. He didn't wake you, of course, as he peeled himself out of bed to get ready—although he was sure the way his back cracked when he stretched would have woken you.

For the first while he was awake he felt like he was running on 1% battery and he grumbled to himself as he got ready for the day about being up so late on a work night; now he was going to look exhausted for the media content and sound boring in interviews. But, when he returned to the bedroom to give you a kiss goodbye, the sight of you so peacefully asleep had him stopping in his tracks.

He just watched you for a second, how your messy hair was splayed over the pillow and you were wrapped in a tangle of off-centered sheets and the duvet. Your foot was sticking out of the edge of the sheets and your mouth was half open, breathing heavily in your slumber. Oh, but he was so smitten with you. Suddenly he couldn't remember what he was grumbling about in the bathroom, all he could focus on was how cute you were when you were asleep and so natural.

George walked over to the bedside and stroked a gentle hand over your hair and then over your bare shoulder and he leaned down to kiss your temple. With a whispered "I love you" in parting, he gave you another soft kiss and grabbed his phone and slunk quietly out of the room.

Sure, he wore sunglasses into the paddock that morning to hide the bags under his eyes but there was no hiding the grin on his face.

[justanamesstuff]

Unrequited love at the studio - Matty Healy

A/N: It's funny how I don't plan writing the blurbs, but suddenly I feel the urge to post...hope you like it! ♥

Word count: 1.3 k

Warnings: swearing, typos.

Blog masterlist

She could listen to them bicker about the song they had been working on for hours. Matty and George were starting to get impatient with the process, partially why she left to brought food and coffee for them. A simple gesture to lift the mood a little. 

“This is not working.” Matty started to complain.

“It has to.”

“George…”

“Yeah?” 

Y/n stood at the studio door, looking at the pair. If they noticed she was there, they didn’t acknowledge her presence. Their faces close –way too close– to the computer. The program they used was impossible to understand for her. She admired their talent beyond words.

Matty sneaked a hand around George’s arms, he pressed a button and the song started playing. Y/n thought for her insides that anyone would love it just like that, although she knew Matty –specially– and George worked hard to make every song a perfect one. 

“This…is shit!” Matty screamed, projecting himself backwards in the chair. 

George ignored his comment. “It’s not…I can push this back-” he tried to explain, but Matty was in a difficult mood that day. 

“And it will be shit-” he concluded, bugging George. 

He glanced at the frontman, saying in a calm tone,  “Take the stick out of your ass, mate!”

Y/n decided it was the moment to interrupt before things escalate between the boys. 

“Hey, hey, hey…what’s going on, guys?” she entered the room, lifting the food in her hands.

“Fuckin’ finally, you’re here. He’s being an-” George lift his big hands on a praying sign, turning to look at her. 

Matty listen carefully to every word G was saying to fought back, interrupting his friend saying, “Georgie boy is not listening to me!” he protested like a little child.

George had his good share of Matty for not only a day, for an entire week. Since Y/n was here, knowing her words had more impact on Matty than him, decided it was the moment to take a break. 

G lift his slender body from his chair, without sparing a glance at Matty. “I’m going for a smoke. Good luck!” he wished her, leaving a sweet kiss on the top of her head.

Once they were alone, Y/n approached the man in question. She reached for his shoulders, massing them slightly. The tension on his body was palpable for her. 

“Okay, big baby…what’s going on, mhm?” she inquired him. 

Matty let him body relax, leaning back on her touch. 

“Nothin’ is going on, darlin’.” he lied, closing his eyes. Off course, she knew better than to believe his little white lie.

“Okay.” Y/n stopped massaging Matty, going to plop down onto the couch. Matty felt the loss of touch, turning on the swivel chair to look at her. 

Matty groaned loud. “Don’t ‘okay’ me.” 

Y/n smiled wide, reaching for her coffee cup. “Okay.” she mumbled, taking a big sip.

Matty waited for her to keep asking, she didn’t. Y/n stayed in silence, watching every one of his movements.

“Agh!” Matty whined, joining her on the couch. He started talking even though Y/n kept her mouth shut. “I haven’t slept…George is not really hearing what I’m saying…” he wobbled from side to side, finally resting his head down on her lap. Matty reached for her hand, leaving it on his head. 

Y/n answered his silent request, running her hands through his hair. She was accustomed to finding herself in that position with Matty. The action calmed his nerves better than anything else. 

“Why you didn’t sleep?” Y/n asked him softly. 

“I can’t stop thinking about this stupid tune.” he rubbed his face on the fabric of her trousers. 

It couldn’t be only that. “What else?”

“Nothin’ else.” Matty murmured. 

Y/n decided to went with his lie, don’t push him when he wasn’t ready to talk. “Mhm, sure.” she let out, both of them falling into a comfortable silence. Y/n continued touching his hair. 

“Where were you last night?” Matty asked out of the blue, startling Y/n a little.

“Why? I’m suspect for a murder or something?” she tried to joke, trying to get a look of his face. Matty kept his eyes closed, enjoying her touch once more. 

“Maybe.”

“Well, in that case…I was out.”

“With whom?”

Y/n was aware she could talk about anything with him. “Lana got cheated on by her boyfriend- Well, now ex. Why?” 

“That sucks…” Matty felt bad for even asking.

“Yeah, she’s not doing great right now.” she shared, watching friends suffer it was another kind of pain. 

“I like Lana, she’s great…feelin’ sorry for her.” Matty kept the conversation going. 

Y/n felt intrigued about his questions. “Now you know where I was.” she stated. 

“Yes.”

“Why you asked?”

“Never mind.” Matty was ashamed, embarrassed to express his true worries from the night before. 

“Matty-”

“It’s stupid.” he said, turning so he could look up at her face.

“Just tell me.”

‘Fuck it’, Matty thought. “You mentioned John the other day- You were ignoring my texts, you never do that-”

Y/n couldn’t help to burst into a fit of laughter. 

“Matty, baby, you were feeling needy?” she teased him. 

He tried to act up as if her calling him ‘baby’ didn’t affect him. “Forgetit.” he chocked into his words. 

After a brief pause, Y/n instructed him, “Get up.” He groaned, lifting his tired body. He went to returned to the chair when Y/n took his hand. 

She was laying down on the couch, using all the space to lay down comfortably, “Come here, you need sleep.”

“I have to work…” Matty tried to protest, but the bags under his eyes convinced Y/n to keep trying. 

“A nap is self caring sometimes, George is going to understand.”

“Fine.”

“Come here.” she invited him, opening her arms. 

Matty looked at her, still standing, wondering, “Can I use my favourite pillow?” he wiggled his eyebrows to her chest.

“You nasty!” 

“Please?” he asked, showing her his underlip, making puppy eyes at her. 

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Fine.” she allowed him. “Come on, baby boy!”

Matty scoffed at her nickname, “I’m a man.” he said, resting his head on her chest. 

“Yeah, sure.”

Y/n’s hands returned to his head, while Matty breath started to calmed down. He closed his eyes. Matty didn’t hold a moan this time to scape his mouth.

After only 5 minutes, Matty was soundly asleep when George returned to the studio. Matty's snoring welcomed him. 

George pointed at his friend body on top of Y/n’s. “What is he doing?”

“Shhh!” 

“Fuckin’ ell’”

“Let him sleep, please!” Y/n begged.  

George shook his head, returning to move bits around on the computer. Y/n looked at the back of his head. 

“You are way too good for him.” G said, breaking the silence. 

Y/n blushed. She was thankful Matty was asleep and G wasn’t looking at her. “‘m not.”

“Are you ever going to tell him?” 

“What do you mean?” Y/n felt exposed.

George chuckled. “Don’t play dumb with me…” he warned her. 

Y/n gave it a real thought. “No.” she finally stated. 

“You have high chances…” G suggestively told her. Y/n’s heart fluttered. 

She didn’t have a chance or even hope with Matty. Y/n was her friend and friend only. “I don’t…he has a line of girls-”

G interrupted her, “He keeps choosing you-” 

“George, shut up, please.” Y/n couldn’t go there exactly when Matty was resting on top of her body, when he was so close and yet too far. 

G let her be. “Okay…10 more minutes, and I’m waking up sleeping beauty.” he informed her with an even noise, which made her laughed. 

The vibration made Matty pushed his face further into her chest. “With a kiss?” Y/n asked George. 

“Off course.” 

Part 2

[novelizt]

THE COMPLICATIONS OF A FAKE ENGAGEMENT 2 ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

⚜ PART ONE

GENRE ➺ fluff

SYNOPSIS ➺ lockwood buys a wedding dress for you and he doesn't explain why.

WARNINGS ➺ verbal fighting and an angry confession

DISCLAIMER ➺ i haven't read the books so the characterization/alignment with the canonical story may not line up, and there's so much cheese i might as well become a fromager.

NOTES ➺ this isn't really a series but i felt like giving them a happy ending at least. shoutout to @simrah1012 who asked for a sequel! thank you for your support!

He reserved the dress. After all that talk of cutting down expenses this month, he had it reserved. That was a check every month you (read: he) couldn't pay for it full-price. There was no room for negotiation when he wore his thinking face. So, you refrained from chewing him out in the presence of Kelly.

Your silence meant a storm was brewing. He knew better than to poke the bear. Honestly, you were just thinking of how to go about it. How to ask him why he chose to reserve the dress rather than discard it.

The reason you were there had been dealt with. You had the evidence linking the boutique to the investigation. Why the expenditure? It was like an itch that wouldn't go away. It bugged you. Guilted you. Kept you up at night for a week straight.

Even now when your eyes are burning into the back of his head, you couldn't put yourself into his headspace and understand why.

"You should consider getting a camera, pictures last longer."

You straighten in your seat, ears burning. The same boyish smile he used to get out of trouble flashes in your direction and that confirms to you that he knows what you're thinking.

"Idiot," you say.

His fingers loosen around his book. "Pardon?"

"Yeah, I'd like to know why Lockwood is an idiot as well," George says, breaking into the conversation, cozying into his chair with a tight-lipped smile.

It wasn't uncommon for you to humble Lockwood. George had turned it into his favorite pass time. Considering the two-person mission last week, he wanted to know what exactly warranted the blistering insult.

Sensing his anticipation, Lucy grew curious. She lays her magazine on her lap and fixes her sit. "I'd like to know, too."

"Bit unfair, isn't it?" Lockwood says dryly.

"It's private," you say. The defining tilt of your head and the scrunch of your brows made George and Lucy attentive enough. "You two mind? We'll see you for dinner."

"'Course," George chirps. He shoved his papers under his armpit and headed for the door. Lucy followed begrudgingly. George waves over his shoulder before closing it. "Don't kill him, y/n. Or do. Whichever you feel."

"See you at dinner!" Lucy adds before the click of the lock confirms that you had gotten the privacy you asked for.

You round on Lockwood to find that he was setting up to leave too.

"Client asked–"

"You can respond later," you dismiss.

He presses his lips together, likely coming up with another bollucks excuse to make an exit. But he also knows you, and he knows there is no leaving. So, he comes up with an alternate route;

"y/n," he says, tone on the brink of scolding you.

It doesn't work. Evidently.

You scoff, folding your arms. "You don't get to talk to me like that. Why did you reserve the dress? That was completely unnecessary-"

"No, it wasn't."

"Yes, it was!" You pinch your jacket to keep your tone from escalating any further. You wanted to fight. You wanted to fight with him, not against him, but your confusion had boiled to anger and frustration. "We're neck deep in debt and that dress will cost a fortune to pay for and- and-" you lost your voice for a moment. "And it's not like I'll be marrying anyone."

"You will," he says with certainty. "And you'll make someone very happy, y/n."

"But not now! Not at a time like this, Lockwood. Paying for it is more of a burden-"

"Not when it comes to you."

You lunge forward, fisting the his shirt with an intensity that turns your knuckles white. "Will you listen to yourself? Why would you even think of doing that?"

His hand lands on top of yours, gentle and kind. He was warmer than you, always has been. But there's something new in the way he squeezes your hands. He doesn't take your hands off him, simply letting his rest on top of yours. "We take care of each other." He says it like you don't know it already.

"We always do," you agree, lapsing into a calmer tone. It doesn't take away from the guilt eating at you. "But we could have used that money for the house. Or George. Or Lucy." For family, in essence.

His lips tip up, very slight and with a feel of melancholy. "But we don't always know what's going to happen. I could disappear tomorrow–"

"I won't allow that."

He chuckles, brightening at your defiance. "What I mean to say is," his other hands drifts to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. After that, his hand stops under your ear, resting against your jaw. "Getting you that dress is a heartfelt favor if the worst comes to pass. I still want to be a part of an important day of your life." His voice quivers ever so slightly. Lockwood tried to mask it was a cough but you had already heard, and you weren't blind, you know that look. "This is my way of taking care of you."

Your grip on his shirt loosens, grasping the wrist of the hand touching your face. "I'd rather have you than that overpriced dress."

He offers a lazy smile. "Don't lie. I saw how you were looking at your reflection."

Your hold on his wrist tightens, your frown grows deeper. "How was I looking at my reflection?"

"Like you were seeing a dream come true." Kind of like how he looked at you, if you had taken the time to acknowledge it.

You scoff. "And you were thinking about my wedding day, without you in it?"

"I think of you first. I promised." He knew that wasn't the right answer.

"Unbelievable." You shove him away. Hugging yourself and backing away until your leg hits the edge of a couch. "You talk and take risks as if no one will miss you. If you want to be there for me, take care of yourself so you can actually show up!"

"It's not that easy," he responds, empty hands falling to his side. He even turns away, and his refusal to even face you fans the flames once more. "You..."

"I what?" you take a step closer, daring him to finish what he was saying.

He faces you and you're taken aback by the glint of tears edging his brown eyes. They stick to his lashes, on the edge of falling and staining his cheeks, but he's Lockwood, so he blinks to keep it in. It breaks your heart even more.

"You deserve better," he whispers. Some part wishes you didn't hear, but he knows you did.

He's quiet as your mouth falls open and tears appear in your eyes. His nails dig into his palm to keep himself from sweeping you into his arms; Invisible shackles chain him to his spot, leaving him to watch as you cover your mouth and cry.

Even then, your eyes shine with anger. Your wipe at your cheeks furiously, turning your skin red. "How could you say that?"

"Because it's true." He regains the feeling in his limbs but they feel like jelly as he drunkenly motions the world around you. "Everything in this house is old and outdated and covered in dust! You have suitors that own pristine, marble houses without a speck or memories that make you cry. One day, you could live there instead of here, and you'd be happier because you've always wanted a big, bright house."

Your nails dig into your arms, jaw tight with tension. "This is home, Lockwood! I wouldn't change Portland Row for the biggest castle in England. You would know that if you just asked me." You took a shuddering breath. "And yes, maybe I'd be happy in those houses I talked about when I was seven but I've grown older, just as you have, and I know what really matters to me now. If I wanted those fantasies you expect of me, I would have accepted some richman's proposal. But I didn't, because you scare them away and I know you know I wouldn't have left even if they had asked me. But for the sake of it, I need to ask; If you wanted to send me away so badly, why haven't you?"

"Are you blind?" He shakes his head in disbelief. After all that, he has to spell it out for you. "Because I love you!"

For ten seconds, all you can hear is your breathing. The climb of emotions coming to a crescendo as you walk to him. He meets you in the middle and your arms come around him; his come around you, and finally, you kiss.

When you break for air, he holds fast to you. His forehead on yours like parting would hurt. "I don't want to lose you," he confesses, his eyes staying closed. "And I thought it would be easier for you if I wasn't in the picture–"

"I want you there," you say pointedly. Like your statement could beat away the rest of the doubt swirling in his head. "I want you. I want you and me, together. I don't want to lose you just as much as you don't want to lose me."

He pulls you closer, until you can feel his heart beat in sync with yours. "I love you." He says, and it sets him free. "You're my best friend."

"Always have been, always will be." That's a promise you press onto his lips. You bring his hand to your lips and place a kiss on his bruised knuckle.

He smiles for real and you can't help but copy. "I'm supposed to do that," he complains.

"Too slow," you laugh. You brush your nose against his and feel his hand settle on the small of your back. "I love you."

He laughs and it tickles your lips.

"Pinch me, I'm dreaming." You oblige and he yelps. "Not literally, y/n."

"No pet name?"

"No. I like your name."

"Yeah?"

He ghosts his lips over yours, unable to stop smiling. "Yeah. However," he switches to that tone that makes you want to strangle him sometimes. "We have got to tackle the issue of your last name. It doesn't go that well with your first."

"How do you propose we fix that?" Both your arms drape over his shoulder, playing with the overgrown hair at his nape.

"Well, I'll attend your wedding and we get it changed."

"Changed to what?" You tilt your head and laugh when he angles his to chase you.

"Mine, of course," he proclaims proudly. His smile is so wide you notice the blush on his cheeks now, it makes you weak in the knees.

Still, you can't help but tease. "That would be confusing for Lucy and George though. We'd both be turning our heads when they say 'Lockwood'."

"Now that problem is one I dream of coming true."

He steals a yelp from you as he dips you, enjoying how you cling to his shoulders before he lowers his head and finally catches your lips.

—

"Cheesy," George shudders. He and Lucy had heard the loudest parts of the argument from the kitchen, including Lockwood's long awaited confession.

"I find it sweet," Lucy shrugs, turning a page of her magazine. "But then I remember it's Lockwood and y/n and cringe as well."

"Oh, Luce, I haven't even considered that they'd get even worse."

"What do you mean?"

George points his wooden spoon at Lucy. "If the pair or them pining was bad enough, we have to see them–" he gulps, like the idea was scarier than the Red Room. "–be in love."

Both shuddered.

🦋 ⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

[cherry-pop-elf]

Weasley Siblings React To Their Partner Who Age Regresses

Now I myself do not age regress, but I may be trying it out! To help cope with trauma. There is something so comforting about it, so some cute and pure fluff!

((Also, people in the agere community, hi! You are valid, real, and loved. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. It’ll be ok, sug!

Writing Commissions open

William ‘Bill’

He doesn’t really fine it odd. He’s been through multiple tips of therapies, as he is a curse breaker. Curse breakers need to make sure their minds remain sharp, and clear, so they have to keep mental health a priority. There is also the fact he was attacked by a werewolf, so he’s been through even more. And lastly, he is the eldest sibling to six. That means when you go into his little space you are in safe hands. He will make sure you are very safe, and taken care of. It comes naturally to him. He doesn’t really need to know a thing, because his body just knows. He knows what to do. Given his werewolf quirks as well you get to have a boyfriend that can sense your needs far easier. So when you need your care giver, he’s already holding you close. Also, well, big puppy stuffy.

Charlie

He’s also an older brother, and works with infant dragons all the time. So dealing with someone who goes into a little space isn’t as difficult as you would think. He is rather curious by it all, however. Not weirded out, but curious. He’s a man that’s traveled the world, somehow more so than the likes of Bill. It’s dumb to not live life with an open mind. He’s willing to learn, and wants to take care of you. You develope a rather maternal nature, when you work with new borns all the time. It’ll be nice to have a more human little to work with. Given his strength, and warmth, he makes for a wonderful cuddle bug. He makes you feel so small, with how easy he can pick you up. It helps you drift into your little space alot easier, and doesn’t feel as weird. Just into his arms you go, and you know you couldn’t be safer

Percy

He’s found it very strange. He’s always been very prissy and uptight, after all. What do you mean you just act like a child? Fred and George do that already! He’s honestly a big ass about it, until Bill pulls him aside. Trying to explain it more properly to him, before he goes and says something he will regret. It takes a while, but he’s soon reading up on it. Might as well learn about it. That’s kinda how it started, really. You would come to him, when you needed your moment, and he would read you stories. He won’t lie, it was comforting. Reminded him of when he helped teach his younger siblings how read. Maybe there is something to this age regression thing. There’s a weird comfort. How he can just take care of you, and you trust him enough to know he will. It takes a while, but he is willing to learn. For you

Fred

He runs a joke shop. If anyone is going to know how to handle a kid, it’s him. Also, older brother quirks. Doesn’t really phase him either. You act younger sometimes? Don’t we all? He’s going to be the best care giver. Especially since he did mature a bit, from running a shop. So don’t think you weaseled your way into endless candy. Can’t have his precious kiddo sick! As being a bit more mature, he also has things a bit more calculated. A designated toy box’s to keep your kid stuff secure, and private. Willing to drop everything if you need him. Even happily have you play with your toys, in his office, as he works. Very much taking on a very solid dad role. Wouldn’t be to surprising if he knew about age regression before he met you. He likes to keep up to date with the kids, so he can better care for them. Such as what products they would like. He’s calculated, but not like a robot. Like an actual dad, wanting the best for his kids after all. You included. Oh and don’t you dare forget, they are two for one. Uncle George is going to steal you, when Fred needs to work. Never fear!

George

Much like his twin, you are in safe hands. However, he has a bit more of an emotional approach. He likes to be a bit more hands on with it all. The type to make you chocolate chip pancakes in the morning, and always have a bottle of apple juice ready. He took on the food love from his mother. So you are given plenty of sweet snacks for every occasion. Always finding a way to make sure you meet your nutrient needs, even when small. That way you stay healthy, but not sacrifice the things you love. He knows how that can mess with you. Especially after losing Fred. So, to take care of someone is helping him take care of himself. The ability to just take time out of his day, and be with you, it’s healing. It really is. Your bravery in admiting to this is helping him live such a better life. Just able to hold you, and know that he can protect you. He couldn’t save Fred, but he was able to save you

Ron

Hope you don’t mind, but his ass went running to Hermione for advice. She’s the smartest person he knows. If anyone knows anything about anything, it’s her. He finds it a bit confusing, but Hermione does a beautiful job in explaining it to him. Such as how his brothers do certain things to cope, or do things different because of trauma and stress. You were the same. That helps him figure it out better. Still, it’s a bit complicated for him. He’s worried about messing up, because you are in a rather vulnerable position. Luckily, similar to how the twins are two for one, he’s a three for one. Hermione is more than happy to help you, and Harry is in the same boat as you. He had to cook his uncle, aunt, and cousin, breakfast every morning by the time he learned how to walk. If anyone’s going to understand, it’s going to be him. a pair of parents, and an uncle sometimes sibling. you would be in safe hands.

Ginny

She, more so, went running to her older siblings for advice. Especially Bill. He knows stuff like this after all. It’s confusing, until he explains it. Much like how Hermione would with Ron. After some time, she figured out how to make it work. She didn’t really know if she could pull it off, but she is a Weasley. She is too stubborn to back down from a challenge. Her care taker role would follow more of an older sibling dynamic. She’s found it pretty nice, really. She was always jealous that her brothers got to have younger siblings. She had to be the last one, and that takes a toll after a while. Especially in a family so big. It’s a nice way to live out something like that. You can’t complain about it. Especially since, similar to Charlie, she’s yanking you into the air. All that Quidditch sure pays off. A older sibling is rather comforting. Familia love is soothing to the soul. You both get that gentle moment. She gets to be a big sister, and you get one. So warm, and safe.

[makemeactup]

Ringo Starr x Reader - Stolen Glances

Summary: Ringo has feelings for his long time friend, but cant bring himself to do more than steal glances.

This is actually something I wrote for my oc but thought everyone would enjoy it. So — here ya go!

---

It wasn't that Ringo was scared to say anything to you. No, he wasn't the least bit worried about the outcome. You were adults now, it'd be fine. But, perhaps, he was just being cautious about the situation. Weighing up the possibilities and the comfort of the now. Such as:

Everytime you would playfully shove him, or playfully punch his shoulder, or playfully try to fight or wrestle, or just sit next him or drape your legs over his lap or put your head on his shoulder, Ringo held a humongous grin. His cheeks would tint a soft red. His blue eyes took you in as quickly as they could without drawing any attention.

Each time, he played along or dismissed you with a joke. Sometimes he would wrestle or take an exaggerated boxing stance, or he'd put his hand around your legs to make sure that you could relax and not worry about them sliding off. You'd smile at him then, beaming and radiant. And it'd be just for him — until one of the other boys, usually John, demanded your attention.

You were like that with everyone for the most part, Ringo had reasoned. You'd playfully shove George, but you wouldn't try to fight him. You'd use Paul as a pillow, but you wouldn't try to wrestle with him. You'd offer both men your smile, the one they all knew so well. But John, to Ringo's eyes, was too close to how you treated him.

John did get the playful fights and attempts to wrestle, and sometimes you'd get put into a headlock or he'd have his arm wrenched behind his back. John did get sat next to, and he got your head on his shoulder, or legs over his lap. But worst of all, he got the smile. The others got the smile, sure, but that wasn't the same. It was a specific smile.

But who was Ringo against John? Clint Eastwood versus Larry Fine?

Oh well, Ringo would shrug to himself at the thought. You were all long time friends, nothing more. His feelings had to pass, right? The denial certainly wouldn't, but that was neither here nor there.

Sat behind his drumkit, drumsticks held loosely in hand, he watched his friends interact. He watched you as you laughed at something George had said, waving him away. He admired your side profile, your shiny hair. Your shirt was nice today.

Sporadically, his eyes flickered to whoever was talking, an attempt to cover his tracks. He'd crack a smile and laugh at a joke or story, but he wasn't actually listening. Not as he gently hit the cymbals absentmindedly, and not as he looked at you again.

"—right, Ringo?" Came the sudden voice of Paul, the use of his name knocking him back into the room.

It was only then, under the scrutinising stares of his friends, did the drummer realise that his face gave away his previously absent mind. His eyes, dark with the apparent lack of sleep lately, grew briefly wide as he perked up and looked at Paul.

"What'd you say, Paul?"

"You alright? You look spaced out."

"Oh," Ringo blinked. "Yeah, I'm fine. And you?"

"You're gonna get bug-eyed if y' keep starin'," John hummed, smirk wide. He had obviously seen something the others hadn't.

"In me own world," Ringo raised an arm and moved his drumstick in a circular motion beside his temple for emphasis.

"Can I join your world?" You asked innocently, brows arching, as if you'd have to plead for him to say yes.

"'course ya can!" He beamed softly. "None'a these jokers can, though."

"What have I done?" George asked, sounding offended to be included with John and Paul.

"Dunno, let me get back t' you," Ringo offered, earning a small laugh and smile from his friends.

His eyes met yours, and he offered a small shrug. When you didn't immediately turn around, he swore he felt his neck grow warmer and the grip on his drumsticks grow ten times tighter. His lips grew into a lopsided grin, nose turning a soft shade of red.

When you did eventually turn back around, he released a breath he didn't know he was holding. Swallowing thickly and lightly hitting his drumsticks together, he feigned interest in whatever joke or story was being told. All the while, as subtly as he could in the background, he kept stealing loving glances at you.

[jqmalikhsgib]

blue skies

chapter:one

note: holy shit this probably won’t be as good as the original i wrote! i cannot believe tumblr fucked me! starting over. haley and aaron relationship is far more toxic in this fic. (not haley’s fault because she’s a saint!) aaron is a bit of a dick in the past (you’ll see why once i re—fucking—write the story thanks to tumblr you bitch 😩) haley and aaron separate around season two and divorce in the beginning of season three. this chapter focuses on 5x10. so yes, it will be haley’s funeral in the beginning so trigger warning for sadness!! foyet will be mentioned. 5x9 will be kinda mentioned as well so again, sadness! hopefully tumblr won’t delete this as well or i swear ill cry 😢

aaron is 43

reader is 33

also: i do not own any of the criminal minds dialogue (obviously) i will be using a few for this story! credit to the criminal minds writers!

you groan as your alarm goes off. you knew you needed to wake before your three year old daughter comes barging into your room and whining. you simply shut your alarm off before slowly lifting your body.

after finishing up your morning routine you head to the kitchen to make breakfast for your princess. you suddenly hear tiny little feet coming towards you. when you look down there was you daughter. she had the biggest brown eyes. her signature scowl on her face. one you knew she inherited from her father.

you smile before turning the stove off and lifting her. she rest her head on your shoulders. her sippy cup clutched to her hand.

“how’d you sleep, baby?”

“good, mamma! what’s for beakfast?” she still had a bit of a hard time pronouncing her ‘r’s.’

“just some eggs. you hungry, bug?” she nods her head simply. you smile before setting her down in her high chair and setting a small plate of eggs in front of her. she grabs her fork with her tiny hand and stuffs her mouth. you smile as you sit right beside her, coffee cup in your hand.

you turn on the news to see if it’s perfect weather for a park day. you knew how much lizzy loved park days on your day off.

your eyes widened when you see a photo of aaron on the screen. you turn the volume up and listen.

“…ley hotchner, wife of fbi agent aaron hotchner was murdered three night ago in their home by the boston reaper, george foyet…” your heart broke for aaron.

despite how much he broke your heart three year ago you still loved him. your best friend didn’t understand why. aaron had ended things with you the night you found out you were pregnant and blocked your number.

he told you he couldn’t love you. you were meant to be a distraction from his life. you lived thousands of miles away from him and he had a family. he told you that he could never be with you because haley will always mean more. that broke you into pieces. after almost two years of sex, cuddles, date night, jewelry you never asked for, and silent ‘i love yous.’ you were never gonna be her. you never blamed haley. you’re almost certain she didn’t know about you.

but when aaron and haley had been separated for awhile, aaron visit your small town in texas for a case, and many many tequila shots once said case was solved, you’d been wrapped in aaron’s arms.

at first you just wanted fun and casual. he was ten years older than you, tall, sexy, and fun. you didn’t expect to fall in love with the fbi agent.

but over time he visited more, he took you to the fanciest places he could find in your small town, sometimes you didn’t even have sex. you just talked and fell asleep in each others arms.

neither of you really knowing what this was. you didn’t wanna bring it up in case it was in your head. but you needed to know when you found out you were pregnant. you asked him what you were and if this was going somewhere.

aaron simply shook his head that night. he stepped back from you and broke your heart, “you and i were nothing more than fun. tell me you understand that yn? tell me you aren’t falling in love? because i cannot love you when i have a family of my own. a wife and a son!”

you had yelled at him stating she’s divorced him. she was no longer his wife. he had to move on. it had been almost a year since the divorce. but he simply shook his head, told you never to call again, and left.

you took his advice for a while. not contacting him for your whole pregnancy. but when you finally brought elizabeth to the world, you thought he should know about her. when you tried calling you’d realized he blocked your number.

your best friend hated aaron since that moment. she’d been the only family you had helped you raise the sweet little girl!

despite your best friends wishes you still gave her his last name.

“mamma?”

you break out of your trance and look over at your daughter.

“we going to the pawk today?”

you look back up at the weather channel and hum softly. “absolutely, bug!”

aaron clears he throat. he looks around to see his team and all of his and haley’s friends and family. he wasn’t sure he was able to do this.

he looks over and sees his ex father-in-law glaring at him. he didn’t blame him. haley’s death was his fault.

aaron opens up the folded piece of paper before he looks down and begins reading,

“w. s. gilbert wrote ‘it’s love that makes the world go round.’ and if that’s true, then the world spun a little faster with haley in it. haley was my best friend since we were in high school. we certainly had our struggles but if there’s one thing we agreed on unconditionally, it was our love and commitment to jack.” aaron continues his speak as everyone watched him.

you can see the grief of the man’s face. he was trying to hold it in for his son. as he finished the speech everyone tries to do their best to comfort him how they can. haley’s father and sister rest a single rose on her casket. aaron and jack were the last ones to do so. jack blows a kiss to his mom one final time before aaron walks away from his wife with his son in arms.

after the funeral everyone was gathered around. people were chatting and giving their condolences to aaron. he simply nods his head thanking everyone who passed by.

david walks over to aaron with two glasses. “i think you could use some air. i saw him with his cousins.”

aaron looks at his son before turning to his ex sister-in-law.

“could you make sure jack gets something to eat?”

jess simply nods as aaron follows behind dave. dave and aaron pass the team.

“you know i broke my promise to haley.”

“what promise?”

“i told her i would catch foyet and that i’d spend the rest of my life making it up to her.”

“you still can. you saved jack.”

aaron sighs before looking over at his son. he sees jess hand him a sandwich.

“you know, i may have the tools to do this job, but i don’t know if i have the tools to help my son.”

“you have to ask yourself, what kind of father you want to be. and when you figure that out. then you’ll know what to do.”

aaron hums. he looks down and plays with the end of his fingertips.

“i meant what i said today. things have changed. and i need to do what’s best for jack.”

dave nods softly. “you will.”

after spending an hour at the park you pick your daughter up gently. she was already exhausted. you smiled as she rest her head on your shoulders.

“mamma?”

“yes, baby?” you set her in her car seat.

“may we have ice cweam today?” she gives you these innocent bug eyes. it’s why you gave her the nickname ‘bug.’ she was too adorable for her own good!

“hmm, maybe! depends if you eat all your veggies tonight.” you shut the back door before getting in the drivers seat.

“i will. pwomise, mamma!” she smiles at you

you smile right back. your heart warming every time you see it. when you arrived home you spot your best friend, and roommate, shoes by the front door.

you were glad she’s home. she’d been on a business trip. gone for a week. you’d miss her.

you knew lizzy missed her as well. she’d ask almost every hour when her auntie jane was coming home.

“jane?!” you call out your best friends name. your daughter gasped. jane soon makes an appearance and smiles widely at you and lizzy.

“is that my favorite lizard?!” jane scoops your daughter up.

“janey!”

“lizzy!”

“miss you so much!” she gave jane a sloppy kiss on the cheek. jane return the favor.

“i miss you too, lizard! thought about you everyday, bug!”

your daughter giggles before jane sets her down.

“mamas gonna get dinner started, baby. why don’t you go and play a little?”

“kay, mamma.” she runs to her room. jane fills you in on the details of her trip. you both worked for a big tech company. you hated your jobs! but it was the best paying job you found. most of it was just sucking up to your bosses. they were the average sleaze bags who sexually harassed you even though they had wife and kids at home. you’d simply ignore it. you were great at your job.

you had plenty of ideas that were obviously stolen from you by your boss and told at conference rooms where the ceos would listen. since you were just an assistant it wasn’t much you could do.

“he made you share a room with him?!”

“yes! ive never been so quick to head to the creepy motel across the street! id rather rats and roaches crawl all over me than james.” she makes a face.

you laugh.

“he needs to be fired. who does something like that?” you shake your head as you finished up dinner.

“i know! we’re both smarter and more capable than james and martin! fire them and give us the high paying jobs!” jane grabs two plates for you and a smaller plate for her god-daughter.”

you hum in agreement. you fill your daughters plate up first.

“ill grab her.”

you wash your hands as jane washes both hers and elizabeths hands. you set your daughter down in her high chair before sitting in between her and jane.

the three of you enjoy your dinner. once finished you grab three small bowls and add ice cream to them.

“since you were such a big girl bug, you get ice cream!”

your daughter does a small little dance in her high chair. you coo at her cuteness. she truly was the light of your life.

once you were done with your ice cream you got ready for bed. when you finished bathing your daughter you lie her in her bed and read her a bedtime story.

“goodnight, bug.”

“night, mamma.” she falls asleep soon after. you take your own shower right after.

when you’re done you hear your phone ring. you frown at the unknown caller id. you decide to ignore it. resting your body on your bed. your phone begins to ring once more.

another unknown caller. you sigh before answering.

“yn?”

you knew that voice. you’d recognized it from anywhere.

“aaron?”

[cherry-velvet-skies]

Strawberry Lemonade

Gardener!George Harrison × GN!Reader

Genre: About as close as it can get to smut without there actually being any sex

Warnings: Heavy makeout session, lotsa hickies, and a bit of a spit kink but who's counting, eh?

Words: 2.3k

Summary: 1971 era; Reader hires George as a gardener and quickly falls in love with him (Reader is wearing a dress but gender is unspecified)

=======================================

==================================

You had been trying to get closer with him for several days now. He was always busy working. After all, he was technically working for you.

To be fair, you had hired a gardener, and you didn't know what, or rather who, to expect. Although, had you been given a selection based on appearance, you would have gladly chosen him anyway.

There was something about him that was positively alluring. You thought he was so handsome. And in the three Saturdays he had been working in your backyard, all you managed to find out about him was his name. George.

George looked like your typical gardener, with his scruffy hair and worn out denim, his only focus being his craft. In all honesty, your favorite thing about his appearance was how little he cared for it. He had no desire to be neat. He found beauty in the natural world.

You enjoyed staying with George while he worked. He didn't seem to mind either. He loved telling you all kinds of things about each type of flower, such as where they originated from and which ones could be used for natural remedies in certain teas, soups, and medicines. You didn't even have to ask any questions. He was just ready and willing to share the information, which benefited you as you were still too shy to say much to him. His extensive knowledge was undoubtedly adorable. When you saw how excited he got every time he told you a fun fact, it only made you want to extend the conversation.

You loved George's voice. The way he spoke, slow and sultry, was so calculated in the best possible way. Every word he said was uttered with meaningful intent. He never spoke just to speak. He always spoke to connect. You noticed George licked his lips a lot when he spoke. You weren't sure if it was just a quirk, a nervous habit, or a flirtation technique.

Your fascination with him began on his first Saturday of coming to work. He noticed the rather large section of orange lilies in the center of your garden, acknowledging them as being your favorite. Before he left, he handed you a singular petal from said flower that had fallen off, placing it in the front pocket of the creamsicle colored dress you were wearing. After closing the gate behind him, he turned to look at you one last time.

“Orange is my favorite color, too.”

You allowed George to decorate the garden however he wished, which he was immensely appreciative of. If he felt that certain flowers looked better beside each other, or grew better in certain types of soil, who were you to oppose his artistic vision?

On this particular day, you had chosen to stay on the patio while he worked. You had prepared a plate of fresh strawberries, but knew that fruit could attract bugs that might eat your flowers. You had paired it with a tall glass of lemonade, and as you sat down, you questioned your decision. It was a particularly warm day, and George had already been working for a while. You thought he could use a refreshment too, or at least maybe some company. 

Careful not to startle him, you walked over and offered him the glass of lemonade. Looking up at you, he smiled and reached for the cup, his gloves leaving a trace of fresh soil along the bottom. You thought it was quite endearing. You admired the way the short, dark brown hairs of his mustache grazed the top of the straw.

After taking a single sip, he handed the glass back to you, smiled again and went back to work. You figured maybe he wasn't thirsty, so you returned the cup to the patio table. Instead, you plucked a single strawberry from the plate and offered him that as well. He hesitated before taking it, but decided to accept it, removing his left glove so as not to dirty your hand. The way George’s fingertips brushed your palm when he reached for the berry made you shiver, but you tried not to show it. You think he still noticed.

He ate the small fruit in one bite, leaving only the piece with the leaves. Seeing that a few seeds were still left on the tip, he moved to the edge of the garden, scooped out a small patch of dirt, and placed the fruit inside, covering it up. You looked down, accepting the fact that you owned a strawberry bush now.

You turned to walk back to the patio again, but he motioned towards the large tree next to where he was working.

"You can stay." His voice was almost a whisper. "I don't mind."

You fetched your snack from the table and sat down against the tree without a second thought. You knew you were going to have dirt all over your mulberry colored dress when you stood up, but you didn't care. You would do anything to spend time with him.

You didn't talk, but just being there with George felt like heaven. You would occasionally glance over at him while he trimmed the thorns from the rose patch. Or the way he moved the marigolds next to the daisies to create a pastel gradient. He turned around just as you were staring at him and made eye contact with you. Feeling your cheeks blush, you offered him another strawberry to ease the tension. He showed you his gloved hands as if to say he couldn't, to which you held the berry up to his lips, requesting he take it from you directly.

George leaned forward, lacking hesitation, and took a bite. His plush lips, which were now stained with strawberry juice, kissed your fingers as you held the heart-shaped fruit, the red pigment dripping down your hand. He gazed at you so intensely you felt like you were shaking. You placed the stem back on the plate and set it on your lap.

Returning his piercing stare, you placed your fingers in your mouth, sucking them clean. Three weeks ago, you didn't even know his name, and now you were licking his strawberry flavored spit off your fingers. But you could tell this had an effect on him.

You took another sip of lemonade, and, noticing the rapidly emptying glass, offered him the final sip. He accepted, finishing the rest and placing the cup on the grass beside you. Once he was close enough, he tucked his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up to place his lips against your own. He tasted like strawberry lemonade. When he pulled away, a thin string of saliva was bridged between your lips, the sunlight revealing the slightest tint of rose gold from the fruitful concoction. Your eyes widened when you looked back at him, perplexed by his actions despite you wanting this more than anything. You didn’t expect him to feel the same way.

Without saying another word, George removed the glove from his other hand, placing the now bare hand on the back of your head, his other hand resting on your shoulder. He gently guided you to lay back, his hand protecting your head as you made contact with the grass below. He briefly stroked your hair before removing his hands, instead placing them on both sides of your hips. He stared down at you, rubbing his hand over your stomach through the fabric of your dress.

“Do I have permission to touch you, my flower?”

You nearly moaned at his new name for you, although you were a bit confused as he was technically currently touching you. But still, you nodded, intrigued by what he would do next.

George trailed his fingers up your torso towards your shoulders. He stopped at your chest, eyeing it for a short while. Normally a position like this would’ve been quite compromising for you, but you were surprisingly comfortable. 

He hooked his fingers under the straps of your dress, dragging them down your shoulders, stopping right before they had completely fallen, preventing the fabric from leaving your chest entirely bare. He leaned forward to place small kisses across your chest, neck, and shoulders, occasionally biting softly. In one particular spot on the crease of your neck, he bit down a little too hard, but you didn’t even care. The gentle brushing from the coarse hairs of his beard provided a wonderful contrast between pain and pleasure. You threaded your hands through his hair, the loose waves beautifully framing his face. You felt his hands firmly massaging your hips with every breathy whimper that fell from your lips. 

Once George decided your upper body had been marked thoroughly, along with a few wine-colored shapes ever so slightly bubbling to the surface of your skin, he ended with one final kiss to your lips. Your hands moved from his hair to cradle his face, raking your fingers across his beard. He pulled back to look at you again, every monochromatic tone of his heavenly brown eyes twinkled in the evening sun. Even now, you were still utterly speechless.

Removing his hands from your hips, George began drawing small circles with his fingers on the exposed skin just below the hem of your dress. He looked back up at you, a small “May I?” leaving his lips, to which you nodded again. George shook his head.

“I need to hear you this time, flower.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. You were so overwhelmed by the current situation that even forming a phrase of one simple word felt like an arduous task.

“Yes.” You whispered. George nodded slowly, placing his hands flat against your thighs, sliding his fingers up underneath your dress until he reached your hips, rubbing his thumbs along the fabric of your underwear. Holding you by the hips over your dress was not enough. He wanted to feel the warm softness of your skin. He wanted to become one with you in any way that he could.

George laid on top of you, knees at your sides to support his weight as he resumed kissing you. But you wanted him closer. Lifting your legs, you locked them around his waist, pushing him flush against you, forcing his arms higher towards your chest. This caused the straps of your dress to fall completely down your arms and the hem to scrunch up past your hips, your entire dress rolled in the center of your body like a belt, rendering you almost fully nude while George was still fully clothed. But you didn’t care. Your actions could be so brave and bold, yet saying a single word to him felt far too intimate.

“So beautiful…” His words were lost in thought right along with him, his lustful stare raking over your neck and chest before moving back up to your face. While he may have had his full weight on you now, you tried your hardest to move your hips beneath him. Your body ached for the slightest of friction, wantonly arching up to grind against his clothed crotch. He looked down as you did this, the corners of his lips curling into a slight smirk, almost mocking your neediness. But as you moved, you could feel the outline of him, slowly nearing full hardness, straining against the confines of his jeans. He wasn’t fooling anyone. He wanted this just as much as you did.

You softly gripped him at the shoulders, massaging your hands up his neck and back into his hair as he laid atop you again, burying his face in your chest, adding more blushing roses to the already blooming garden just above your nipples. That was one place George would look, but never touch. He repeatedly got quite close with both his mouth and fingers, watching as your eyes pleaded for him to touch you everywhere, but decided to save that journey for another time. He opted for keeping his hands firmly at your hips, guiding you while you continued to grind against him, your eyes closed and your head tilted back, completely willing to lose yourself in the immense pleasure.

Just as you felt yourself beginning to falter in rhythm, nearing the edge, George pulled back and stared at the sky. Noticing the change in the amount of daylight, he sat up, much to your confusion.

“Unfortunately, it’s time for me to go.” He said matter-of-factly, pushing the straps back up to your shoulders before moving to pack up his tools.

“Already?” You whined. “Can’t you stay a little longer?”

“That wouldn’t be fair to my personal schedule, now would it?” He teased. You thought he was walking toward the gate but instead stopped at a small patch of red violets he was tending to earlier. He was there for a few seconds before returning to you, who was now standing up, dusting the dirt off of your dress. George reached for your hand, and you felt something touch your palm. He placed a small kiss on your lips before gazing into your eyes again with the same intense stare.

“We’ll make more time for each other next week, my flower.”

You opened your mouth as if to reply but was consistently halted by some invisible force. By the time you felt like you could respond, George was already closing the gate behind him. You peered down at what he had left in your hand: a single petal from one of your red violets. You looked back up to see George still standing at the gate, predicting your confusion. He met your puzzled expression with a punctuating wink before walking to his car. You twirled the plum-colored petal between your fingers as its inspiration caught your eye out of your peripheral. Your cheeks immediately blushed a light pink as you saw the same color in a series of small love bites that were currently forming across your chest.

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I just got a new computer today, and I thought what better way to celebrate than to finish one of my fics! This was the one that got the most votes in my poll of which WIP y'all wanted first. And I know it's quite long overdue, but I hope you enjoy! 🥰