#beatles x y/n

[inkpot909]

First Love Headcanons: Bruno Bucciarati x Reader

↳ Gender neutral Reader with they/them pronouns. Implied the reader is shorter than Bucciarati? Canon-divergent. The reader is not made out to be very morally upright and is hinted at having a rough past.

A/n: Doing another one of these has been on my mind for a while now. Thank you to the lovely person below for the request! I hope y’all enjoy. <3

Warning(s): None.

There’s no time in Bruno Bucciarati’s schedule for a relationship.

Growing up in the mob kept him focused on the ‘family’ that took him in. It was his purpose, and the only reason he was able to support his father as well as himself. Before he learned the truth of the organization’s operations, he felt a pride in even the… messier aspects of his work.

Eventually finding a disconnect between it and his own morals leaves an empty spot in his heart. A shame so deeply buried within him that even the members slowly joining his team know little of it how deeply it affects him.

He now goes on with his work as normal, all while feeling like a bit of a hypocrite. His heart feeling so betrayed it needs little to push him towards full betrayal on his part.

Surely, a relationship would only muddy the waters.

All the cute girls that wave to him as he passes by on the street… who of them would be able to take such baggage? How could he expect anyone to? He wouldn’t have it in him to willingly bring anyone into this lifestyle, if his reluctance to let Narancia join is anything to go by.

Barely an adult and already he’s responsible for a small handful of people. Though, that thought never crosses his mind, as he’s unfortunately felt like an adult for an unfair amount of time.

And despite his own inner turmoil over his position in Passione, he’s formed meaningful relationships through the members of his team.

He’s the connection that binds them together, the head of their group, and by proxy the head of their little family. The purpose that the organization originally gave him now lands on the shoulders of his motley crew.

It’s them that keeps him going in spite of it all.

He finds his heart still beating, still moved each time he brings someone underneath his wing. That alone is good enough for a man like him.

No… there’s no time in Bruno Bucciarati’s schedule for a relationship.

And so, with that thought constantly repeated in his mind, he didn’t at all bat an eye when your own need eventually brought you to Passione’s metaphorical doorstep.

In your mind, it must’ve felt like fate.

Reaching for assistance at lowest point, you were subtly pointed toward one Bruno Bucciarati.

You don’t know what you expecting from the mafioso. A degree of harshness or coldness, perhaps. Only to be greeted with a hearty meal and an understanding personality so moving you fell into the trap of the mob right then and there.

How could you hope not to? When all you saw in that moment was a pair of gentle blue eyes looking at you with unspoken empathy, allowing you to speak freely despite his status as a gang leader.

So when he gave you an offer, you could only accept with newfound vigor.

The next couple of days felt like a blur, a change to your very view of your own psyche is made when it is suddenly able to manifest something you soon knew to call a stand. It is life altering to you, yet mundane to Bucciarati.

That kept you grounded.

Exiting a prison, golden broach in your hand, there’s no pit in your stomach that usually occurs when you lie straight to someone’s face. You had looked up at Polpo- an impossibly intimidating capo -and told him a lie. Said you’d kept the lighter on for 24 hours, and he… took your word for it, creepily enough.

You’re observant, able to discern that you were never meant to actually keep the lighter on the whole time, that the goal all along was to acquire a stand.

Distantly, you remember telling yourself as you left the prison that you ought to grow accustomed to lying anyways.

You didn't chose the mafia to be a player in your future, but life hardly goes the way people want.

And lying to a man like Polpo really didn’t feel like it counted anyways.

Still, Bruno’s reaction to your own twisted priorities was a darkly comforting one. It made you feel better about the coming days ahead:

Bruno Bucciarati finds himself checking his watch a third time, standing just a few yards away from a prison’s main entrance. Not many people like to pass by the looming building, leaving him alone and not likely to be recognized by anyone- Passione member or not.

He sighs, This should not be taking this long.

There’s only so much he can check the area around him before he starts looking suspect. Not that there’s much hustle and bustle in the surrounding area to distract himself with. A familiar impatience bubbles within his stomach, one that only occurs when he’s about to introduce his team to a new member.

Well… hopefully.

Before he starts growing gray hairs, he hears the prison gate creak open. Turning his head, he finally notices your figure exiting the large entrance with prison guards escorting you.

A smile finds its way onto his face, a gesture you return as you approach him. Once the gate is closed, and the two of you are left without any watchful eyes, you subtly gesture with your arm. The action causes his attention to move towards your hand that shows off a little golden broach in your hand.

He gives a nod, and you don’t waste time before shoving the little piece of gold into your pocket. Just as you do, you halt your footsteps- now standing close enough to hold a casually quiet conversation.

Every one of your movements are noticed and dissected within his mind, something you clearly understand just by looking at your poised body language. That, or you’re still on alert from talking to Polpo.

“I was beginning to think I’d have to go in there myself,” he jests lightly, though there’s not much actual humor in his voice. “Afraid I’d find you there attempting to choke the capo out.”

“The thought didn’t cross my mind,” you reply, a trying smile playing on your lips. You appear much more collected than the day you first met him, a detail he’s glad to see. “That would be an awful first impression of my own loyalty, wouldn’t it?”

Ah, so either Y/n is simply that nervous, or Polpo’s words actually got to them. Bruno shakes the thought off, as the distinction is not worth dwelling over right at this moment.

“One of your new teammates was damn near close to trying to pull a stunt like that in the past-“ he doesn’t miss how your eyes brighten up at his roundabout way of welcoming you to his team. You joining it went without saying, but the subtle omission being enough to make you look so inspired is something he can already tell he’ll find endearing about your personality. “-But no matter… walk with me, please.”

You do as you’re asked, something Bruno does not care take note of.

It's the one part of your behavior he doesn't quietly run through his brain. It’s your first day after all, he’ll see in a weak how well you actually listen to him. His experience with the others has taught him as much.

“I do have to admit…” you speak up when he doesn’t, “Lying to him didn’t make me feel bad at all.”

He turns to you, something flickering in his gaze before he lets out a soft chuckle. His smile now seems a little less formal, and the amusement on his face looks more natural. “If that’s an omission of guilt, then you’ll be an interesting change of pace.”

“It is,” you admit, figuring there’s no need to put up a front for a man this observant, “Lying to someone is almost worse than killing them.”

“How do you figure?” Bruno raises an eyebrow, not batting an eyelid at your statement. Honestly, the first time the two of you met, your words were much more morbid.

“Well… lying leaves room for feelings to stir within me or the person of interest. It lets emotions fester inside of people. Killing stops all regrets or feelings of betrayal- stopping everything, you understand? That, I can live with. A bad mark on my heart I find more difficult to walk away from."

It’s no surprise he’s silent after that, but his hesitation does take you off guard.

Oh, god, was that too loose-lipped? It’s easy to feel comfortable around Bucciarati. Far too easy. He’s the type of man that makes people inclined to open up. You always talked casually before about macabre things. Isn’t that normal for a mafioso? What if-

“No need to be nervous, L/n; I’m already impressed by you. You’ll do well with us.”

Oh.

Something about his words, spoken so calmly without even looking over at you, have a calming effect to them. Just a week into knowing him, and already you’re slowly growing accustomed to his genuine yet subdued warmth.

As Bruno drones on about Passione and its systems- more specifically his duties that directly trickle down into being your duties -you can’t help but let your mind wander a little to a distinction you made when you first met him.

Bruno Bucciarati’s fundamentally different.

There’s a kindness to him you never would’ve expected from someone in a gang. It kept you nodding along as you spoke, and distantly you felt as though your entire future is in the palm of his hand.

And scarily enough, you were fine with that.

Him being a sort of exception was a thought you assumed yourself to be mad for making, at least, until you found out the others on the team noticed the exact same thing.

All while Bruno himself only looks at you and sees your potential to grow.

A place in his team… something that he’s always well-spotted. An intuition he’s not once been wrong with before, so there’s a degree of confidence there as well that rubs off on you.

You got his attention in a familiar way, and after you join the team, you’re his responsibility and his purpose- just as the others are.

He’s just your leader. Nothing more, nothing less.

That said, he grows to appreciate the genuine gratefulness you offer him in a… special way.

The others are thankful for him too, and he knows that fact, but it’s nice to here the sentiment so openly and often in nature. And in the tones of your voice, it’s especially calming.

He’s really just making excuses for himself, but it was early on enough where it was okay.

That’s what’ll first make Bruno truly see you as not only a member of his team, but a member of his little found-family. The not-so-subtle ways you show that you want to be with them and a part of what they do… how could he hope to not find that charming?

Your softer side, however you chose to express it, is never missed by a man like Bruno. He easily recognizes it, and almost immediately respects you for it.

Hell, after a while, he relies on you for it.

There’s little in his life that’s more grounding than a gentle expression, thick with anticipation, displayed on your face after each mission you’re not a part of.

You always check up on the returning members as soon as possible, making sure everyone is up and moving. “I won’t be able to relax unless I see for myself that you’re all okay,” he recalls you saying on the matter. The fact that it’s how you treat everyone on the team only makes the relaxing feeling sink in deeper.

It’s not long before he sees you as a genuine soul, and he’d consider himself to be a fool if he didn’t recognize that.

Since the very beginning, Bruno’s personality has touched you emotionally. And although he always saw a sort of spark in you, getting to really know you- becoming your friend in tantum with acting as your superior -allows him to see that little spark for what it actually is.

Genuine care for the people you’re close to. An eye for good natured people, and a responding gentleness. Couple that with a darker, more proactive role during missions or anything work-related, and Bruno finds himself falling back on you more than he’d care to admit.

The others, though? They have no hang-ups over mentioning it. It gets to a point where- specifically Fugo, Mista, and Narancia -start to complain about Bruno showing you a degree of ‘special treatment.’

Mista and Narancia’s complaining jabs are easily shot down with only a look, but Fugo proved to be a lot more serious about it.

To the extent to where an argument or two emerges between them. Fugo insistant in his observations, trying to get Bruno to at least admit he treats you differently than the rest. But Bruno remained headstrong, stubborn in his belief that he would always treat his subordinates equally.

He’s just your boss. Nothing more, nothing less.

In the months that pass, when you’ve since naturally found your place on the team, at what point did that start to be the common refrain playing in his mind?

At what point does he go from insisting he has no time for a relationship at all, to continuously having to remind himself he’s your boss?

And that question alone tugs at his heartstrings in a manner he’s not quite used to. It’s a delightful feeling, but it is foreign.

For a man like Bruno Bucciarati, it’s not so much a refusal to believe he could be developing feelings, but a worry if he should even do anything about the attraction.

That said, it does take him some time to realize his own feelings due to his position as a boss to you and out of sheer unfamiliarity with the subject.

He’s not too obvious as to receive knowing looks from the others whenever he’s around you (Which is often). Hell, Mista even admitted to him much later that Narancia didn’t even notice until Fugo told him to start paying attention.

And after a certain point, Bruno has to admit it to himself and does so with surprising ease. It may have taken some time, he may have been stubborn speaking with Fugo, but he won’t continue to lie to himself. He’s old enough to know when he needs to swallow his pride and admit Fugo was onto something, if only a little.

And after that point of realization, his own love language starts to naturally shine through a bit more.

Bruno generally prefers acts of service and quality time when showing his affection. Cheeky and openly flirtatious, you may have assumed he’s been in relationships before given his confidence.

He’s always had a special care for you when it comes to missions... but now he finds himself offering to help you with grocery shopping. Or paying for a maid to clean up your home when you’ve had a particularly busy week, and offhandedly mentioned needing to clean once.

What? You thought he would forget? That only makes him chuckle smugly, prompting him to lean to eye-level and ask you, “What kind of man do you think I am?”

It seems like he remembers everything that pours from your lips. Always listening to you intently, and never brushing you off.

And during down time, Bruno naturally finds himself preferring to spending it in your company. A lot. Preferably alone, thank you very much.

The two of you even began to start watching TV shows with one another. And neither of you would dare to watch ahead without the other. It’s usually true crime shows, comedies, or shitty soap operas.

All this time with you after realizing his feelings... and they only grow- to his personal panic. The more he stays at your side the more he would hate to ever leave it.

So this is what it's like... he remembers thinking while lounging around, and watching a movie with you one evening. This is.... what I’ve been missing my whole life.

As beautiful as the feeling you bring him is, should he... really do anything about it?

He can see that look in your eyes when it’s just the two of you, a gleam that speaks of an internal joy you’re not sharing with him just as he refuses to share with you.

He gets a sneaking suspicion that you like him the exact same way he’s grown to adore you. And Christ almighty- what’s he supposed to do with that?

Yet, even though you’re a part of Passione, meaning he needs not to stress over bringing you into something so dangerous unwillingly... he is still hesitant.

His care for you so often is expressed through worry, something he usually handles with authority and maybe even harsh words if he deems it necessary.

But this is far more personal, and he can only mull it over by himself. He’s not the type to bring it up to others, not even Abbacchio.

If he reached for you... and the two of you began something real; something official... it would be a no-brainer for enemies to target either of you in order to send some sort of message.

He can’t stand the thought of your broken heart, and absolutely refuses to think of something like that happening to you.

Then again, if a bit morbid, he eventually realizes the result would still be the same with the way things are now. Only, it’d be coupled with Bruno's deep regret over not having said anything to you.

He can only wonder if you’d feel the same, and at the end of the day, he really does think that would be the case.

And it’s around the time he’s fully digesting this, that you end up genuinely taking him aback. Acting before he can begin convincing himself to make the first move:

Giorno, Fugo, and Mista walk behind Bucciarati, looking up at him in silent awe.

If you were to look into each of their eyes, you could likely peace together what they’re thinking while looking upon the freshly appointed capo. Opportunity twinkles within their gazes, all coming from a sincere place of respect for their leader.

You, however, are not looking at them.

As Bruno approaches the rest of his team, anticipation turns into cheers and hollers of excitement from the others standing next to you. Abbacchio has the widest smile on his face you’ve seen since Giorno entered the picture, yet your gaze stays glued onto Bruno throughout the nearly youthful display of glee.

He’s noticeably silent and calm. It’s like there’s no off switch to him- likely already going through the duties now landing on his lap due to his promotion within his mind. He’s not going to want to take the night off, no doubt wanting to get down to business.

Your heart swells despite the slight strain on it. It’s so like him to be that way in a time like this, but… I can’t help but wish he’d celebrate… if only a little, you find yourself thinking.

“Mista… guys, please,” Bruno tries to calm the two (In all honesty, Giorno’s ‘celebrating’ amounted to simply smiling) excited boys walking beside him, waving his hand.

Mista goes on about how everyone must celebrate somehow, still lecturing as they finally approach and reunite with the rest of the group. His words go over Bruno’s head, however, a fond smile making its way onto his face when he turns to meet your gaze.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline from him finally achieving the well-deserved position. Feeling so proud of him that your body jerks forward without thinking. Maybe it’s the excitement of everyone else rubbing off on you, and simply causes you to act without thinking.

All you do care to think as your feet move you right up to Bruno is, To hell with it. If he won’t start celebrating on his own; I’m making him celebrate.

Bruno opens his mouth to speak as you move well within his personal space, but is cut off by the swift movement of your hand tightly grabbing the collar of his jacket. One good tug of your arm and your pulling him toward you, lips meeting with his eyes widely open in surprise.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”

Fugo’s exclamation, along with startled gasps from everyone else melt away the moment you feel Bruno melt into the kiss and reciprocate.

He follows your lead, gently sighing against your lips when you neglect to take your hand off his collar. His arms, which you’ve always found to be so comforting, snake around your waist. He keeps you securely in his hold, and your other hand flies to cup his jaw.

After a moment or two, the kiss breaks. Bruno looks at you as you pull away, eyes still wide and mouth gently agape. It’s enough to make you chuckle, seeing him so cutely taken aback by both your and his own spontaneous actions.

“Congratulations, capo,” you smoothly whisper, finally removing yourself from his hold. “You earned it.”

“I-… thank you, Y/n,” he responds softly, a smile growing on his face.

As much as you’d like to hold onto the gentle intimacy of the moment you just shared with him, movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention. Shifting your gaze, you catch a glimpse of Fugo silently sliding some cash over to a smug-looking Abbacchio.

No… they didn’t…

“Did you-“ you breath, embarrassment beginning to boil inside your stomach and fuel the rising volume of your voice, “-Did you assholes bet on us!?”

“It’s Fugo’s fault for assuming Bucciarati would make the first move,” Abbacchio replies dryly, scoffing as if it’s beneath him.

“Excuse me!?” you and Fugo shout in tandem.

The team erupts in accusations and yelling, the celebration over nearly three minutes after it began. Bruno can only smile at his team, not expecting anything less.

And just like you moments ago, he cannot take his eyes off you.

It’s moments like those that serve as a reminder as to why it’s Bucciarati that leads the team.

Still… the smile playing on his lips that day did not falter once after your sudden display of affection. It was a beautiful, unexpected thing… much akin to how you entered his life.

The two of you were much closer after that event. Other members of Passione outside the team noticing another that’s always at the young capo’s side. Whispers and rumors flood Naples of your relationship… but he never pays them any attention.

He knows what the two of have, and he’s confident in saying that it’s love.

After all, all that matters to him is you staying at his side… even behind closed doors. He’s never experienced something like this before in his life, but now that he has you held in his arms, he never wishes to let you go.

[cherry-velvet-skies]

Marigolds In The Porch Lights (18+)

Gardener!George Harrison × GN!Reader

Genre: Smut (FINALLY), but also some Fluff and Angst

Warnings: A poor attempt at a shower sex scene, unprotected sex (ALWAYS USE PROTECTION, Y'ALL), and some kinda twisted feelings I guess idk these two are just constantly teasing each other

Words: 6.4k (I had so much fun with this y'all)

Summary: 1971 era; SEQUEL TO STRAWBERRY LEMONADE; George and Reader finally have their time together; also Geo is not famous in this so I guess it counts as AU lol

A/N: MUST READ STRAWBERRY LEMONADE FIRST FOR THIS TO MAKE SENSE! But honestly the amount of requests I got to make a sequel, anyone who's here has probably already read S.L. (also thank you for all the requests! <3)

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One week had gone by since the blossoming of your new relationship with George, and you could not stop thinking about him. Calling him during the week just for your own pleasures seemed rather selfish, so you forced yourself to wait the full week until his next Saturday gardening job. After all, that wouldn’t be fair to his personal schedule, now would it?

Now, here it was, the fateful Saturday afternoon, and the anticipation was swarming you. You knew that you were always his last appointment of the week, and you would have him all to yourself from now until the sunset. You contemplated walking outside naked to greet him, but quickly remembering that neighbors exist, the idea was obligated to fade away. You still wished you could, though.

You left the gate unlocked, allowing him to let himself in. He was so caring of your space, taking time to lock the gate behind him so as not to allow the opportunity of any unwanted guests. You waited by the patio for him, prepared with another plate of fresh strawberries and a cold glass of lemonade. You made enough for two this time, specifically if those two were going to be staying together for a while.

Upon George’s entry, he eyed the fruity treats reminiscent of his previous time here. Instead of helping himself to a snack, he approached you to place a patient kiss upon your lips, wrapping an arm tightly around your waist as he did so. His other hand held his gardening toolkit, keeping it at his side while you deepened the kiss. George was almost ready to drop the bag and take you in his arms, but felt he should at least accomplish what you’re paying him for first.

“How have you been?” You started, having a bit more courage to talk to him this time. He laid out his tools as he knelt in the grass.

“Doing what I normally do, I guess.” He replied absentmindedly, “Though I was excited to get back here and see how the strawberry seeds are doing.” He flashed you a cheeky grin, and your shoulders instantly floated down to a more relaxed stance. George wasn’t big on expressing his true feelings directly, but he had his own ways of getting his point across. You slowly drifted off, listening to his voice as he spoke, until he stopped, and you realized he was waiting for you to answer his question.

“Pardon?” You squeaked, causing George to tilt his head in confusion.

“You have been watering the strawberries, right?” He repeated, gesturing to the empty space beside him, “The soil looks moist, so I’d say they’re doing well.”

“Oh! Yes,” You giggled, “I purchased a book on how to care for them the morning after you planted it.” A wide smile spread on George’s face, giving you a short nod and happily moving on to the next patch of flowers. You wore a scarlet colored dress today, planning for him to give you a matching rose from your garden. You concluded that you were the one who could determine which type of flower you receive by the color you chose to wear that day. You weren’t sure if George was also aware of this arrangement, or he just enjoyed finding flowers for you too much to notice.

You had treated this time you spent with George almost like your first date. You wanted to know everything there is to know about him, no matter how minor. In the hours that he had been there, you learned that George also knew how to play guitar, and he enjoyed writing songs, but was never really interested in the life of fame and performing to the public, so he preferred not to pursue it. Being a gardener and getting as much time in nature as he could was more than enough to make him happy.

The time went faster than you both wanted it to, partly because this time felt like you had known each other for years. George had even taken the time to show you how to tend to certain flowers, as the rules differed based on the type of plant. He showed you all his tools, demonstrating how to use them and the best places to start to preserve the flowers, as well as any of his personal favorite natural additives to help the flowers grow. You now knew that adding common household items, such as white vinegar or banana peels can give your flowers a speed boost. George even explained how ground coffee could be beneficial to the soil if you decided to start growing vegetables. His wide range of knowledge was better than any purchasable book could provide.

Before you knew it, the sky was growing orange, and the sunset was upon you. More time to spend with George aside from his occupational responsibilities was not completely out of the question, so you hadn’t lost hope yet. That is, until you saw him reach for his bag to start packing up his tools.

“You’re leaving?” You blurted out, not wanting to sound desperate but your body not even giving you a chance to consider your words. “You just got here!”

George glanced down at his watch, eliciting a small chuckle. “I’ve been here for three hours, love.”

“Well it felt like three seconds to me.” You pouted, crossing your arms and slumping back against the tree you were sitting under. “And you said we would do more together next time! That’s what you said the last time you were here!”

“And we did, didn’t we?” George replied, not missing a beat. “Last time, there was much more uncomfortable silence. This time, we had a wonderful conversation.” He paused to remove his gloves and place them in the pocket on the side of his bag, slowly rising from where he was seated in the grass. “That’s a pretty big improvement, don’t you think? It’s something I can cherish, especially since we won’t be seeing each other next week.”

Your eyes widened. Initially, you weren’t sure if you had heard him correctly, but it was true. First you had missed out on quality time with George and now next week he wasn’t going to come by? You felt your heart sink, trying your hardest to keep the tears from escaping your eyes.

“Why not?” You whined, a little louder this time. You didn’t want to sound like you were throwing a tantrum, but it was difficult when that was exactly what you wanted to do.

“I’ll be out of town next weekend.” George replied matter-of-factly, “I’m going to visit my family as one of my relatives is getting married. The wedding is on Saturday, so I’ll be gone the whole weekend.”

You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You wanted to do anything that would make him stay. But why? He didn’t do anything wrong, but your impression of how the day would go when he got here was a lot different than how it actually went down. You felt like you were lied to, except that you weren’t. Last week, George said that you would ‘make more time for each other’ this time, and technically, you did. He never said what that time was going to be spent on. Perhaps you two had different ideas as to what his return would bring. But instead, you tightened your chest, putting away that tantrum for your alone time later.

“But I thought-” You stopped yourself, knowing that telling George what you really wanted could potentially lead to unwanted results, especially if he didn't feel the same way.

“Thought what?” George asked, staring at you as you mentally cursed yourself for popping a corner of the lid on Pandora's Box. “Did you have a plan for today?” He was too clever. There was no going back now.

“Well…” You started, feeling a blush creep up onto your cheeks, “Sort of…”

“Oh?” He teased, the sunset casting a brilliant sparkle on those dark brown eyes, “Well, come on then. Out with it.” You pursed your lips, shifting your gaze to the floor. George leaned in closer, the coarse hairs of his mustache brushing against the shell of your ear. “So long as we're pretending I don't already know.”

He knew what you wanted. He was going to make you say it.

You stood concerningly still, almost frozen. It was a battle of wits, but you weren't exactly sure if you wanted to win or lose. If you gave up now, and spilled your guts, would you get what you wanted? Or would George continue to string you along, making you wait anyway just to see you squirm?

George sighed, looking at his watch again. “Well,” he huffed, feigning annoyance, “if you have nothing else to say, I suppose I should be going now.” He kissed your cheek, wedging his hand into your own to leave his complementary petal before making his way to the gate. You couldn't even look at him as he left, feeling too embarrassed. Instead, you looked down at your hand. A rose petal, no surprise. You were about to head inside until you heard George call your name. You partially turned around, still feeling rather conflicted. He was standing on the other side of the gate, pointing towards the patio.

“I'd turn that light on if I were you. It gets rather dark out here.” He waited for you to respond. You slowly nodded, approaching the back stairs. And with that, he got in his car and drove off.

You flipped the switch, watching as the porch light came on. It was a glimmering golden yellow hue, expanding its beam about halfway through the garden. You weren't sure why George told you to put it on, but it did make the garden look brighter. Even when you were angry with him, you would still do whatever he wanted you to.

But why were you angry? George hadn't done anything wrong. You knew he was teasing you, but you didn't care. In fact, there was a part of you that liked it. You felt like he was playing with you without even touching you. Wrapped so tightly around his finger that you felt like it was your life force. It strangled you in the best way possible. Like an invisible leash secured around your neck, and he could pull you wherever he wanted. You were completely and truly captivated by him.

Slipping quietly into the house, you felt like you wanted to cry. The anger had subsided and was soon replaced by a persistent longing. Your disdain towards having to go two weeks without seeing George wasn’t even due to the fact that you were crazy about him. It had become a routine. At this point, you wished you hadn’t been so shy to start a conversation with him the first three times he showed up. That you hadn’t waited until just this previous week. Maybe things would be different now. Maybe you’d be closer.

You didn’t know where to go from there. Part of you accepted this as what it was, and you would see George eventually, while another part of you felt defeated that you wanted to do something about this when you knew you couldn’t.

When you woke up the next morning, your house felt quieter, despite you having always lived alone. Almost like George had been staying in the guest room this whole time unbeknownst to you. Perhaps he was a frequent visitor to the guest room in your brain.

You spent the rest of your weekend like any other weekend: it was another gorgeous spring day, and you loved to sit out on the patio and catch up on your reading while you enjoyed your lunch or an afternoon snack, hearing the faint melodies coming from your living room of whatever record you put on for the occasion. It was the only time you actually preferred being alone. Perhaps it was the only activity potent enough to fill the void of your longing for George.

When night came again, you headed inside, about to shut the patio door when you swore you heard a voice.

You froze, but briefly shrugged it off as being in your head. You looked outside, barely being able to see your garden, but knowing it was only your subconscious. You shut the door, turning to walk away until you heard it again.

I’d turn that light on if I were you.

It gets rather dark out here.

You sighed. Even when George wasn’t around, you felt like he was right beside you. You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or cry, so you released a noise that sounded like a mixture of both as you flicked the porch light on, not paying it another thought as you headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

Monday morning. You dreaded it more this week for some unknown yet obviously known reason. The past few weeks, you would just think about your weekend with George to get you through the boring parts of the day. But since this weekend did not pan out like you thought it would, there wasn’t much to occupy your mind. That was the hard part about all this. George didn’t have a typical nine-to-five. He would have gardening sessions scattered throughout his day. Sometimes he would be booked solid, and other days would be quick appointments for treatments, leaving more time for his personal schedule. Even if you wanted to meet up with him during the week, your strict schedule prevented you from having any time with him. Maybe something could’ve been worked out eventually, but the current state of your brain would not settle for that. You wanted him and you wanted him now.

When you got home that night, the feeling had not left. It was more manageable while you were away, but you felt like you were coming home to a house that was once full of life, only to no longer harbor that same feeling. You had never realized how much life George brought to your daily routine even when you didn’t live together. For a moment, you wondered why this was affecting you so much. Perhaps you were overreacting. You would see George again. It would just be longer than usual until you did. You released a heavy sigh, a sliver of hope that you could push this feeling out of your mind, for at least a little while, had begun to show itself.

Until night fell. You glanced at the back door.

The porch light.

That fucking porch light.

The entire time you lived here, you barely even acknowledged its existence. But ever since George made you aware of it, you think of it every night. Subconsciously, you thought maybe if you were consistent in putting it on every night, he would come back. He would find his way to you, sensing your desire to see him, and you would never be apart again. Never be alone again.

You turned it on again, simultaneously hopeful in your delusional scenario and growing impatient at how long your heart wanted to keep up the act.

The next morning, going by the door to shut the light felt like a walk of shame. What were you waiting for? George had his own schedule. His own life. He would see you when he could. You couldn’t help but start thinking if George was missing you as much as you were feeling every day was so bleak without him.

But yet, that night, you turned the porch light on again. Feeling an overwhelming, compelling urge to stay, you opened the back door, stepping out onto the patio. You stared up at the light, admiring the wonderful golden hue of the small bulb inside its painted glass shade. The shade was brushed in bright yellow, matching the bulb and some other accents of the house’s exterior decor. It seemed so much more prominent at night. It was the only thing visible from far away. A sign of life in the home. You smiled at the thought. You would’ve probably never got around to use it if it wasn’t for George. He truly did bring new life into your home.

Thanks to the light, you could see the first few rows of flowers in your garden surrounding the large tree in the center of the yard. This was your gradient row, as you loved to refer to it as. The row where George had taken many creative liberties, creating a smooth-flowing spectrum of colors around the tree like a color wheel. The warm tones faced the house, showing you your lovely spread of roses, tiger lilies, and marigolds.

The marigolds reminded you of the light. Bright, yellow, and outstanding. It was also one of the only few flowers in your garden that George had not given you petals from. You turned back to the light. You decided it could be your marigold petal. At least for now.

You didn’t stay long. You quickly returned inside, shuffling briskly back down the hall, trying to make it to the bathroom before the tears dripped off your face and down onto the floor.

The following morning, as your fingers brushed against the switch to turn off the light, you let out a loud sob. It had rained in the middle of the night, and the sight outside the back door, one of gray overcast and a messy, muddy garden, made it all feel much too real. You couldn’t hide it anymore. You missed George. Oh, how you missed him. One day a week wasn’t enough anymore. You needed more of him. So much more. More than your own mind, body, and soul would ever know.

You considered taking off work today, as your mangled emotions were surely draining your energy. But realizing that staying home would only twist the knife further, you conceded. It was almost as if any choice that life could make would've been wrong in your eyes. Whether you went to work or stayed home, you felt uncomfortable. If the work day went quickly, you were dreading coming home to face your feelings again. Yet, if the day dragged on, you groaned at the thought of having to endure more time until your fateful reunion with George. You were incessantly unsatisfied. Insatiable, even. The only correct answer was George. You needed him to give you what he had promised you, whether he was waiting for you to admit it or not. At this point, you wouldn't have even cared if you sounded desperate. You were desperate. You didn't care if you had to call him right now and divulge everything you felt. How badly you wanted and needed him. Your brain was chasing a fierce addiction, and George was your dealer.

That night had been the hardest so far. You couldn't even bring yourself to walk down that hall. The light wasn't going to be some magical beacon to signal George. You felt like you were holding onto nothing. You didn't care if the light wasn't on tonight. It made no difference anymore.

You went to sleep early that night. Your main thought process was to sleep as much as you could to make the days go by faster. You didn't even want to think about this Saturday. Your soul felt like it was grieving. But grieving what? George didn't break up with you. Technically, the two of you never even established any sort of declaration of a relationship anyway. But you felt like you belonged together. You were his and he was yours. As sweet as the thought was, you quickly shoved it away as you felt your eyes welling with tears.

You turned on your side to try and sleep when you heard a noise outside. It sounded like a low thud, but fairly close to your house. You shrugged it off at first, until you heard it again a few minutes later, sounding closer this time.

You sat up in bed, overtaken by fear. Living alone, you always worried about having to fight off intruders. Luckily, nothing had ever come of it. Until now.

Grabbing a broom from your hall closet to arm you, you headed into the living room. Your first instinct was to check out the front window, being too scared to open the door.

You peered through the curtains, seeing nothing to the left or right of the door, the street only illuminated by the porch lights of your surrounding neighbors. Of course the universe had to think of a way to remind you of what you were desperately trying to put out of your head.

You closed the curtains, ready to go back to bed when you heard what sounded like wet footsteps coming from your back door.

Oh fuck.

If this really was an intruder situation, you were anything but prepared. You glanced at the back door, hiding behind the hall corner. With your breath held and your muscles stiff as the wooden boards beneath your feet, you took slow steps down the hall. You lurched forward to quickly lock the door, which you normally did anyway but forgot that night as you never actually made it to the door without crying.

Knowing that the lock was safely in place brought you some time. Being closer to the door, you heard another sloshing sound, as well as some angry muttering. With your luck, the intruder slipped on the wet and muddy grass and was now disoriented, leaving you time to- well, do what, exactly?

You hadn't thought this far. Do you call the police? Make a loud noise in retaliation in hopes to scare them away? Armor yourself with throw pillows to burst through the door and use your broomstick to beat them senseless? Your mind was racing. The most reasonable thing to do in that moment, although it hurt quite a bit, would be the answer to whether this was really a life or death situation.

You turned on the porch light.

When the illuminating glow hit the grass below, you saw a person laying there, covered in mud, clearly not anticipating the new biome that had been created in your backyard. You screamed, causing the person to immediately look up at you. Upon making eye contact, you felt your heart spring up into your throat before free falling down to your stomach. You threw open the door, feeling like you were being fled with a million emotions at once, all conflicting each other. You stood there in shock, only being able to choke out one single word.

“...George?”

“I thought I told you to keep that bloody light on! I almost broke my neck out here!” George shouted, but couldn't keep a straight face long enough to be convincing, dissolving into a puddle of laughs back onto the ground. You felt your whole body fill with happiness. You dropped the broom, running out into the yard, slippers and all, squealing all the way before landing on top of him, trapping him in a tight hug.

You kissed him faster than your brain could process what you were doing. The familiar feeling of his soft skin, luscious hair and beard, and plush lips made your whole being swell with euphoria. Your golden yellow silk pajamas were now full of mud, but it didn't matter. George was back here with you. And you didn't need anything else.

“You’re getting all muddy, love.” George giggled, pushing damp strands of hair away from your face.

“I don't care!” You shouted while laughing, pressing loud, wet kisses across his face and neck. George wrapped his arms around you, resting his hands on your waist. You pulled away, staring into his eyes. It may have been late at night, but you felt wide awake as ever. Before you even opened your mouth to speak, you knew there were tears dripping down onto your cheeks. “I didn't think I'd see you again for a while.”

“I planned to stop by before I left, but I didn't have much time during the day.” George confessed. “I wanted to surprise you, but I'm realizing it might have been a better idea in my head.” He looked around the yard, then at his muddy clothes, eliciting a light chuckle. “Thinking about it now, I probably should've called first.”

“I'm just so happy to see you.” You replied, not even hearing half of what he said. You heard he planned to come back for you, and that was all you needed to know. “But I'm guessing your plan involved you being able to see once you got back here. Hence the, you know, porch light.” You averted your gaze, adding a nervous laugh.

“First I tried hopping over the fence, and tripped over that.” George explained, staring back at the gate. “Then I tried to walk quietly, and slipped in that big puddle over there. Not to mention I tripped over the center gradient, so I apologize for that. I'll be sure to fix it the next time I'm around.” He added with a swift cup of your chin and a kiss to your lips. You looked at the tree, seeing the warm toned flowers slightly uprooted, tiny specks of dirt adorning their golden petals. Honestly, that didn't even matter to you. The image of George trying to sneak into your backyard and failing miserably made you erupt into laughter again.

“I suggest you have to get cleaned up now, don't you?” You asked, running a finger through the thick layer of mud adorning his jeans.

“Well, yeah, but I refuse to get your floors all dirty.” George declared. You helped him up off the ground, trying your best to smudge the dirt out of his hair, as well as your own.

“You can leave the clothes in the laundry room. I'll deal with them tomorrow.” You replied. George shot you a look, helping you brush some of the grass off your pajamas.

“So it's already been decided that I'm spending the night, then?” You smirked, not saying anything back. George smiled, sneakily pinching the skin on your waist. You squealed, playfully batting his hand away. You turned to walk back to the patio when he spoke again.

“Even after we get out of these filthy clothes, we still have to get ourselves clean, you know.”

You froze, a chill running through your spine, excitement filling your body. You whipped your head around, grabbing George’s hand and leading him to the stairs. You were about to open the door when he put his arm out to stop you.

“I know you're excited, love, but I still don’t want to bring all this mud into your clean house.” He seemed genuinely concerned by this issue, but at this point, nothing was going to stop you.

“Okay, fine. Easy fix.” You stated, slipping the straps of your pajamas off your shoulders, followed by your underwear. George’s eyes widened as he watched the silken fabric pool around your ankles, leaving you completely nude standing on the patio. The cool air of this particular spring night began to wash over your body, and you shivered slightly. You weren't sure if it was from the sudden breeze, or the tantalizing feeling of this whole situation, but either way, your nipples were completely hard.

Seconds later, George followed suit, removing his muddy shoes, followed by his equally sodden shirt and pants. He stopped at his underwear, feeling a flash of uncertainty. He was no stranger to being nude, but being nude while standing on the back porch of his lover’s house in the middle of their classy suburban neighborhood? That was a new one.

He turned back to you, taking in the sight before him. Seeing your fully bare form, taking one slow drag of his eyes over your lower half, he quickly shuffled off the remaining piece of clothing and tossed it on the floor with the rest. You opened the door, scooping your clothes up in one swift motion, walking a mere few feet and tossing them in the laundry room to be dealt with eventually. You couldn’t be bothered right now. George did the same, keeping his clothes in a neat pile right beside yours, placing his boots by the door. He stood there for a few seconds, gauging your readiness to proceed. With a smirk on your face, you grabbed his hand, leading him into the bathroom.

You opened the shower curtain and turned the water on, feeling the warm steam slowly fill the room. You adjusted the water to a comfortably neutral temperature before climbing inside, leaving space for George to join you. You stayed under the stream of water, allowing it to take its time to rinse all the mud off your arms and legs, and most of it out of your hair, leaving you with a fresher start before moving on to shampoo and soap. You looked over your shoulder at George, who now seemed rather chilly, so you switched places, allowing him to rinse off as well. He had been wearing more covering clothes than you, so there wasn’t much dirt he needed to get off his body, but his hair was a different story. He spent extra time using his fingers to comb through his beard, which seemed to be a prime target for all that grass and soil.

Getting started on washing your body, you had briefly turned away from George to grab your soap. Before you could open the container, you heard a low shudder coming from behind you. You looked at George, who was now staring at you, while sporting quite the erection. You giggled, lightly poking his stomach. “Am I taking too long for you?”

“You know, for someone who wanted me so badly outside, and is now teasing me about having to wait, you’re quite mad, aren’t you?” He stated, glancing down at himself while continuing to rinse his hair. You laughed louder this time.

“I figured we would clean up first.” You said innocently. He chuckled.

“Why do that when we’re just gonna get dirty again, love?”

You bit your lip, holding back a whimper, but the way your legs involuntarily began to clench shut gave it away immediately.

You nodded. “I see. Well let’s get it on then.”

The second you finished your statement, George wasted no time grabbing your waist and pressing his lips against yours. It was a hungry kiss. Passionate. Longing. It had confirmed he missed you just as much as you missed him. You put your hands in his hair, which was now much softer under the water. You were the one to take that passion further, feeling his lips part and allowing your tongue to enter his mouth. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy this, moving his hands from your waist down to your ass, kneading it softly yet with an impatient edge to it. You were tempted to hook one leg over his waist, but the slippery floor beneath you made you fearful of losing your balance, so you refrained. But you wouldn't have even had time to take action, as George quickly pulled away, spinning you around and pushing you up against the shower wall. You put your hands out, both of them splayed out on either side of your head as your cheek made contact with the cold tile. George grabbed your waist again, slowly grinding against you, slightly pressing you between the wall and himself. The contrast in temperature between the cool, flat surface and the steamy air made your head spin before he even did anything else. He leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to your earlobe.

“I think you've waited long enough, my beautiful flower.” You moaned softly at his statement as you felt him enter you. Slowly, savoring it just as much as you. It was a bit of a stretch, but you never found it painful. The combination of the warm water and your mutual arousal provided a decent amount of lubrication.

George continued to leave kisses around the shell of your ear and down to your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder. Once he was all the way in, he steadied himself before going any further. “You doing okay, love?” He cooed, patiently waiting for your response.

You sighed blissfully, softly nodding your head and letting out a low “mhm” while taking in all the sensations around you. The mix of everything made you whine in pure ecstasy, feeling so full in the best way possible, not wanting to say or move much in fear of losing your grip on it. You felt like you were in a different world, where it was only you and George, and nothing else mattered. However, you were not in the mood to be kept waiting either, feeling like you were holding your breath a bit, waiting for his next move. You took another deep inhale and exhale, releasing another moan in the interim. “It's okay,” you mumbled, “you can keep going.”

George nodded, starting with a soft, slow pace. Even with shallow thrusts, you were already in heaven. You quickly got lost in the rhythm, hearing his occasional breathy sighs directly into your ear. Hearing him enjoy it just as much as you were only turned you on more. And the more George fell into a rhythm as well, the faster he went. His thrusts became quicker and harder, pushing you up against the wall with each motion. Your moans had just become one long groan of pleasure, the way your nipples dragged across the cold wall with each thrust stringing you along even further.

When you felt that pressure start to build, you couldn't even form a coherent sentence to signal anything, the only word falling from your lips a meek “George...” before a high-pitched whining overtook you again. George shushed you softly, rubbing his thumbs along your waist as he brought you closer to the edge.

“I know, flower. I know.”

What felt like seconds later, you felt your orgasm crash over you, a noise that sounded like a mix between a moan and a scream flying from your mouth, proclaiming your everlasting love and worship of the man behind you, feeling yourself begin to slump against the wall, trying to catch your breath. George finished shortly afterwards, his grip on your hips tightening as he came inside you. He tilted his head back, a low, steady groan signaling his release. He had no choice but to use the wall for support as well, nearly falling on top of you after he slowly slid out. It was times like these you considered turning off the shower head and just filling up the bath instead, as your legs felt like jelly by this point, leaving you with minimal energy to hold yourself up.

Before you could say anything else, you felt George’s hands on you again, running his fingers through your hair. You smelled the familiar scent of your shampoo, feeling it glide through your hair as you closed your eyes again. He held you tenderly, guiding your head to the water, gently tilting it back to rinse the suds from your hair.

Once finished, he started on your body, massaging the soap all over your back, making sure to be careful around any areas that were currently more sensitive than usual. You sighed happily, feeling pampered like royalty, so grateful to have him here with you.

After a few minutes, your legs didn't feel like that of a newborn giraffe anymore, so you turned around to face George, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before taking the bar of soap. “I got it from here.” You giggled, finishing yourself off before starting to help him out as he eyed your shampoo. It wasn't what he used, but it smelled nice, and there wasn’t much of a choice in this situation. He chuckled before squeezing a small amount onto his palm, looking down as you lathered up his chest and stomach.

Once you both had thoroughly cleaned up, you turned off the water and stepped out, fetching some large fluffy towels and equally soft robes to only increase your level of comfort. By now, both of you were free of mud, partially dry, and ever so tired. Wasting no time to climb into bed, you snuggled up against George, resting your head on his chest.

“I'm so happy you came back.” You whispered, placing a kiss right over where his heart is. George giggled, caressing your arm.

“I would've always come back, flower.” He paused with a pensive sigh. “I enjoy every second I spend with you. You give me new life. A new purpose to an already wonderful experience.” You stared up at him, eyes wide in awe. It was the first time he had openly expressed his feelings to you without hiding them behind his usual cheeky humor. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard.

“You have no idea how special you are to me.” You beamed, craning your neck up to kiss his jawline, surprised when he turned his face and you landed on his lips instead.

“And you to me.” He replied. You enjoyed the streak of added sappy statements from George, but you knew it was a big step for him, judging by the deep breath he took afterwards, followed by a swift “Let's get some sleep, love.”

“Okay,” you agreed, “but let me just make sure I locked the back door first.” George nodded, getting comfortable on his side of your bed as you hopped out from under the covers, shivering again as the cool night air came back with a vengeance on your naked body. You quickly put your robe on and shuffled down the hall. You clicked the lock shut and went to go back to your room when you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. Something yellow.

You looked around until you spotted it again, sticking out of the side of George’s boot. Bending down to get a closer look, you moved the muddy laces and pulled it out. A tear almost fell down your cheek and you held it between your fingers. A petal from one of your precious marigolds, presumably stuck there when George tripped over them on the way in. You smiled warmly, feeling your heart soar at the idea that George can give you a petal every visit, even if he didn't realize it. Without saying anything, you put the petal in the pocket of your robe and made your way down the hall, trying not to disturb George as you quietly slipped back into bed.

==============================

IT'S FINALLY HERE Y'ALL 😄 I'm so happy I can share it and it was definitely a fun plot to continue!

Taglist: @peaceloveandstarrs @queen-of-stars @nosegoes @cocteautwiny @thatgoesinthere-misshapes

(If you want to be added to my taglist, feel free to send an ask and let me know! 🥰)

[iheartjohnlennon]

The Beatles NSFW Alphabet - George   

@heiterhund >>> #1 co writer

Oopsies for any grammatical errors

A is for Aftercare (How he treats you after sex, what happens after sex, etc...) 

• George didn’t even know it had a name. He just thought it was common practice to be caring and giving after sex.

• He usually runs you both a shower, quick to support your body as he rinses and cleans you off. He’ll offer you a clean blanket after the act, just to be sure you feel comfortable and at ease. The bed will be all done up, fluffed pillows, enough space, all for you and him.

• Super, super sweet guy. If you wanted a drink he’d probably already have it ready at the bedside. 

     

B is for Body part (His favourite body part of yours) 

• George loves your eyes and mouth.

• He loves the way your eyes light up when you see something you like. The pretty gleam when you make eye contact with him has him weak in the knees. He feels like a lovesick dog.

• Your smile is so precious. He loves the way your teeth look, no matter how much you may dislike them. He thinks they’re perfect. 

• Your eyes and mouth are so beautiful to him...especially when you’re taking a mouthful of his cock with your eyes watering.

     

C is for Cum (Everything to do with cum!)

• George likes to cum in your mouth.

• He especially likes when you swallow his cum and don't spit it out. He likes the filthiness of that.

     

D is for Dirty secret (Something utterly filthy that he did and/or does/and or wants to do behind your back.)

• George wants to do anal but he thinks that you would think it's gross.

• He knows it'd feel way tighter than your cunt and he wants that feeling. With your consent and some lube, he'd be fucking you like a rabbit. George definitely teases the hole as well. It looks so cute, so tight, so warm - perfect for his cock. 

• George thinks doing anal things would make him feel more dominant. You'd be his bitch, taking it up the ass.

• He doesn’t know how to ask or tell you about it directly, so he usually gets off to the idea of it. He feels quite odd for liking it…maybe one day he’ll confide in you.

     

E is for Experience (How experienced is he?)

• Georgie has little experience, little knowledge, so he just finds his way. 

• He lost his virginity with his friends cheering him on in the next room, in a cold, dark room to a German prostitute, and he didn't last very long - I'm sure that says a lot!

• His thrusts are sloppy but he tends to hit your g-spot either way. But not due to expertise...it’s just because his cock is sizeable.

• But he’s a quick learner!! Tell him what feels good and he’ll do just that and improve.

     

F is for Favourite position (How he loves to fuck you)

• He's very much into doggy style. He likes having you face down, ass up on the edge of the bed as he pounds and ruts into you senselessly. It always makes him feel alive.

• It also gives him an excuse to dig his sharp teeth into your shoulder. He's so possessive like that. He also likes pulling your hair back as he fucks into you.

• It doesn't have to be all rough though, he can slow down and be all sensual.

• He has a big cock as well, that position is perfect for him and for you. 

     

G is for Goofy (How silly is he during sex?)

• He’s not really goofy or joking during sex. He thinks it’s too special to be joking.

• He thinks sex is a special bond between two people, and if he’s speaking or talking - it’s either him complimenting you, or saying pure filth.

     

G is also for Goal (What's his goal and/or dream in relation to sex.) 

• George just wants to make you cum.

• In fact George wouldn't care if he doesn't end up cumming, just as long you do - in the best, most drawn out, most satisfying, most toe clenching, most sheet drenching, most impregnating, most draining way possible.

     

H is for Hair (How well groomed he is, does the carpet match the drapes, etc..)

• George has a lot of pubic hair, especially around his balls. His hair peeks out below his navel, a cute little happy trail.

• It’s not bad, by any means, there’s just a lot of it.

     

I is for Intimacy (How romantic he is during sex, etc..)

• George is naturally very soft, very romantic and very kind.

• He doesn't always go all out with candles and rose petals and champagne but when he can he does.

• He always does a bit above the bare minimum though, there's no just going at it like bunnies - there'll always be a nice track on in the background, always foreplay.

     

J is for Jack off (Masturbation headcanon.) 

• If it’s his only means of getting off, he’ll do it. It ’s not his preferred choice, but if you’re not available, he has no other option.

• He has some photos of you that he uses. for his birthday, his gift to himself was booking you a photo shoot. The photographer was sworn to secrecy and told to destroy the film he had after it was processed.

• Those photos are kept in his billfold, always in his pocket and used during desperate times.

     

K is for Kink (One or more of their kinks in relation to you.) 

• George has a sub kink for sure, and though it's not often he lets you dominate him, he does love it when you're rough with him.

• He revels in you tugging at his hair, calling him names, riding him - sometimes that stuff just brings him a joy he can't put into words.

• So yeah, sometimes he just wants to be your bitch.

     

L is for Location (Favourite place to do the deed.)

• George definitely likes doing it in hotel rooms and all that jazz. He travels a lot, so of course hotel rooms are his natural favourite.

• He also has taken quite the liking to fucking you in the studio. Whenever anyone is out for lunch, he’s there dragging you to bend you over the amps and have his way with you.

     

M is for Motivation (What turns them on about you, gets him hard, makes him cum, etc..) 

• George is deeply turned on by your confidence and the way you carry yourself. Your self-assured attitude drives him wild.

• He loves it when you take the initiative, whether it's initiating a kiss, a touch, or suggesting new things to try in bed. Your boldness excites him.

• George is especially turned on when you affirm how good he makes you feel. Hearing you moan "it feels so good, Georgeeee" or praising his skills in bed just does it for him in so many ways.

     

N is for No (Turn offs, what pisses him off, etc..) 

• He dislikes very rough or overly aggressive behavior in bed. George prefers a more sensual and intimate approach to sex.

• George is also turned off by any kind of dishonesty or insincerity. He values genuine connections and can't stand it when things feel fake or forced.

     

O is for Oral sex (Does he prefer giving or receiving? How does he give, how does he receive?) 

• George will never admit this, but at his core he’s a slight bottom. He loves the attention he gets when you’re on your knees and gagging around his length.

• His hand usually cups your cheek, thumb brushing the soft skin there as you stare up at him through your lashes.

• He loves the feeling of your mouth around him, the warmth and the wetness driving him crazy. The sensation of your tongue swirling around his tip makes him groan in pleasure. There's no feeling like it.

     

P is for Pace (Fast or slow? Rough or sensual? Ect.)

• George's pace tends to be slow and sensual, reflecting his desire to make each moment last and savour the connection with you.

• He prefers to take his time, exploring your body with deliberate and tender movements. He believes that building up the anticipation makes the climax even more satisfying.

• He’s not opposed to picking up the pace if you ask for it, but his natural inclination is to be gentle and loving.

• During more passionate encounters, his pace can quicken, becoming more intense and urgent, especially if he's particularly aroused or if you've been teasing him all day.

     

Q is for Quickie (His opinion on quickies, how often they happen, etc..)

• Obviously he doesn't hate them but would much prefer you to have sex that's comfortably timed.

• When they do occur, it's in desperate times, like he hasn't seen you in weeks or he can't get rid of a boner.

• He can finish quickly and fuck you hard so you don't possibly get caught.

     

R is for Risk (What kind of risks will they take.)

• George is cautious by nature and generally avoids situations that might lead to getting caught, preferring to keep your intimate moments private and sacred.

• However, he does have a bit of a spontaneous side. He enjoys the thrill of doing something unexpected, like pulling you into a quiet room during a gathering or surprising you with a passionate kiss in an empty hallway.

• George’s idea of risk is more about breaking routine than being public. He loves to surprise you with spontaneous intimacy at unexpected times, like when you’re in the middle of a conversation or doing something mundane.

     

S is for Stamina (How many rounds he can last, how quickly can they cum, etc..)

• George has a steady stamina; he might not go for marathon sessions, but he’s certainly capable of giving you a few solid rounds.

• He typically lasts a good amount of time, enough to make sure you’re fully satisfied before he lets himself go.

• He’s more about quality than quantity, focusing on making each round deeply satisfying rather than trying to stretch it out unnecessarily.

     

T is for Toys (Does he own toys, use them, what kind of toys, etc?) 

• George isn’t someone who naturally gravitates toward sex toys, but he’s not opposed to them either if you personally want to use them. He just won't engage because he trusts himself to give you pleasure.

• He’s more into the connection between the two of you rather than relying on...accessories.

     

U is for Unfair (How much does he like to tease you, how does he tease you, etc..) 

• George has a teasing streak, but it’s always playful rather than mean. He loves to draw out your pleasure, taking his time to get you worked up before giving you what you want.

• He enjoys the build-up, like whispering sweet, naughty things in your ear, lightly brushing his fingers over sensitive areas, or pulling away just when you think he’s going to give you more.

     

V is for Volume (How loud is he, what noises does he make, what does he say, etc..)

• George is relatively quiet during sex, preferring to express himself through soft moans, deep breaths, and quiet gasps.

• He’s not one for loud, vocal expressions, but the intensity of his breathing and the occasional groan lets you know just how much he’s enjoying himself.

• He loves hearing you, though, and your moans often encourage him to be a little louder, especially when you’re both close to climax.

• In those moments when he’s overwhelmed by pleasure, you might hear a slightly louder moan or grunt, but it’s always controlled and subdued.

     

W is for Wildcard (Random sexual headcanon.)

• George has a surprising playful side that comes out in the bedroom. He loves experimenting with sensory play, like using feathers or ice cubes to tease and stimulate your body, enjoying the mix of sensations and how they heighten your pleasure.

 

You shiver slightly - George is trailing an ice cube along the curve of your neck, watching intently as goosebumps rise on your skin. He smiles, leaning in to kiss away the cold trail he’s left, the contrast of his warm lips against your chilled skin sending a thrill through your body.

     

X is for X-ray (His cock.) 

• 7 inches, slim but not skinny, aaaannd not circumcised. (I want him so bad.)

       

Y is for Yearning (His sex drive, how much do they want you?)

• George's sex drive is somewhat understated but powerful. He might not be as overtly aggressive, but when he wants you, it’s an intense and all-consuming desire.

• He often finds himself thinking about you at the most unexpected times - while strumming his guitar, during a quiet moment in the studio, or even while out in nature.

     

Z is for Zzz (Sleep afterwards?)

• You and George go to sleep at roughly the same time because you both talk until you fall asleep. 

• You talk about anything really. Your day, the weather, your jobs, how good his cock just was - everything! 

• And sex doesn't always come before sleep. Sometimes you'll both decide to watch a movie before you drift off, or maybe you'll have a really late dinner.

Ringo, last but not least...

Check out the masterlist!

[diaconicon]

Could you write a connor stoll x daughter of Athena reader. Where connor watches the reader and another person do romantic kareoke and he gets jelous because he think the reader likes that person.

⬆️This was an anonymous ask, which I unfortunately lost because I accidently deleted it😭 I'm so sorry to whoever requested this, I hope you still find it in some way!

All my Loving

connor stoll x daughterofathena! reader

Summary: basically what the request says, made it a bit christmassy because its in less than a week (2 days now), and i miss the spirit

Warnings: none (I think), probs ooc everyone. We're just gonna ignore the fact that the Camp has the barrier that stops it from raining inside okay? I kind of forgot don't hate me love you guys xoxo. English isn't my first language, so there could be some errors

22nd of December. It was almost Christmas, and Camp Half-Blood was in a fuss between Christmas decorations, some of the campers packing to go back to their families the day after for the Holiday, and the preparations for the 24th and 25th for the other campers who would stay, everyone had something to do and somewhere to be, not leaving a lot of free time to wish everyone goodbye and a Merry Christmas.

Here came the Hermes Cabin, as always, to 'save the day' - as said by its residents. They decided to host a karaoke night on the 22nd as a sort of pre-Christmas celebration, so everyone could also enjoy it with their friends who would go away the next day.

Of course, everyone was invited - although it was still a mystery how the Hermes Cabin was always capable of pulling out all these big parties without getting in trouble - but you were still debating on whether to go or not, not being the most social type, and definitely not very inclined to be singing, but after contemplating for some minutes, you decided to cave in and go. Most of your half-brothers and sisters wouldn't be there, but, after all, Connor did ask you personally to come, saying that 'you would really do him a favour' because 'everyone was just so boring and no fun to be around', and you just couldn't say no to him, you were, besides, quite fond of both him and his brother and it would be rude to just not go.

I mean, you wouldn't have to sing anyways if you didn't want to, right? You could just go, have fun with your friends, have a few drinks, watch other people sing and, most importantly, spend a bit of time with Connor before you went back home to your family for the holiday's.

Well, you were wrong. Almost everything was going perfectly. You arrived at the cabin, said hello to some of your friends, poured yourself a drink, and then, as planned, you went to search for Connor, who you found in a corner next to his brother, who scattered away (not without tripping at least a few times) almost immediately after greeting you with a quick "Oh hello there, how are you? Everything okay? Hope you're enjoying yourself. Oh, just a minute, will you? I think someone's calling me - and then turning to his brother - catch you later, Con."

And that left just you and Connor alone, in an awkward silence. Although you were usually so talkative with him, it really wasn't so hard to open up when he was around. He always let you feel so comfortable without even trying, you guessed it was in his demeanour, the way he walked, the way he acted, you didn't know exactly, but he definitely wasn't much of an awkward person as you were, quite confident of himself, but quieter than his brother, calmer, which made him more likable in your opinion. He was fun to be around, very animated, but when needed, he could also be very sensible and almost a shoulder to cry on. He was just so.. warm, almost like the sun, or an oven! You weren't sure how to put it, but he did really remind you of freshly baked cookies, who were still warm ones out of the oven, but that you had to wait for to cool down before eating, otherwise it would be 'bad' for your stomach (at least according to your dad).

But maybe it was something in the air that night, the music was really loud and you already could barely hear yourself over the others singing, maybe it was Travis' abrupt disappearance, but neither of you said a word, not even a 'hello' or a 'how are you?' After some seconds, what must have felt like minutes, you decided to be the first one to break the silence, then you saw that he too wanted to say something, and opting to let him take the word instead, you leaned in to hear him better. But just then, some of your other friends called you, wanting you to come sing with them and even after making it pretty clear that you had no intention whatsoever of participating, they still dragged you out to the karaoke section, pretty much forcing you to sing at this point. Maybe you were exaggerating - well, you were definitely exaggerating - but at that moment, it felt like being processed to death, tragically waiting for a guillotine to cut your head off.

You didn't know how it happened, but you ended up having to sing a duet with some Apollo boy you didn't even know well, although quite cute in your opinion, you couldn't even seem to recall his name.

Not quite as bad as you thought it would be, the song went by really fast, and you could even say you had fun. After chatting a bit with the Apollo kid, finally remembering his name, and him suggesting to spend more time together once in a while, having enjoyed himself, you bid goodbye and immediately went back to find Connor, still a bit embarrassed by the public scene, which you still wished to have avoided.

Though, not being able to find Connor anywhere, you decided to ask his brother if he had seen him.

"Connor? I think I saw him going outside just a few minutes ago. If you see him, tell him to come inside quickly, will you? It's like freezing out there, and I don't even think he took his coat with him"

You thanked Travis, grabbed Connor's coat, which he left in the cabin (by demand of his older brother), and went outside as well, hoping to catch up with the latter, wherever he went to.

Travis was right. It was indeed freezing, and in the time you spent in the Hermes Cabin, it also had begun to snow. Realising this, your heart couldn't help but to warm up a little. You absolutely loved snow, especially in this time of the year, only adding more to the Christmas spirit already strong around the Camp.

You eventually found Connor after a while near the beach, the sand now mixing with the snow that was falling, secretly thanking the Gods that he didn't go into the forest or it would've been probably impossible to find him.

He was sitting on a random trench, with his back to you, looking out in the distance, to the stars or the sea you didn't know which, still not having noticed your presence behind him.

So, you carefully went up to him, anxious of approaching, like reaching out for a baby deer who would otherwise get scared if you were too loud. Not only that, but you were also anxious about what to say. He looked upset, and you didn't know why. For how much you tried, you just couldn't think of what could've made him so distressed. Was it something you said? Well, you didn't exactly say anything... was that it? Did he expect you to have said something? Had he wanted to tell you something before you were dragged away by your friends? Maybe it was just the change in the weather that affected him so much. It was always pretty warm at Camp anyway. Maybe it was something that had been going on all day, and you just didn't know. You only first saw him this evening, and he already looked pretty off.

Whatever it could've been, you decided to just go and rip the band-aid off. You would've to ask him directly what was wrong, so you could try and help and comfort him.

You were now not even a few steps behind him, but he was still oblivious of you being there (sometimes you asked yourself how he was still alive with how bad his hearing and reflexes were), so you extended your hand towards him, the one with which you were holding his coat, and poked him on his shoulder, finally capturing his attention.

'Here, put it on, your brother is going to kill us both if you don't', you said, referring to the jacket, trying to relieve some of the tension around the air.

He didn't protest and grabbed the jacket, but he still didn't say anything and turned away immediately, his face impassable.

You set next to him, and for a while, just looked at him, not saying anything. Anxiety filled your stomach up to the point you thought you were going to feel sick. He didn't look only upset anymore but actually mad. Angry. And you were so scared it had to do with something you did. In the fraction of time you used to contemplate on what to say and how to start the conversation you were clearly about to have, he beat you to it and started first.

'Well, thanks for the coat. You can go back now if you'd like', he said, irritated, not once looking at your direction but keeping his eyes fixed on a vanishing point which you still couldn't figure out.

'Is something wrong? You know if something happened you can just tell me, I'm here to help you you know. Just.. please, I don't like to see you like this. You know if it's something I did, I'm sorry, I didn't realise. But just tell me, okay? I'm so sorry if I hurt you in any way.' You were desperate at this point, just hoping this would end soon. You'd never seen Connor this upset, and it quite frankly scared you a bit.

But just then, his gaze softened. He just couldn't stay mad at you, not like this, not seeing how much stress this caused you. He wasn't even mad at you. He could never be mad at you, not even if his life depended on it, he thought.

'No, I'm sorry, okay. Really. Just forget about it, I'm overreacting. It's nothing'. Although his voice was sincere, he felt like he needed to say more than that, much more, if he wanted to make it better. 'Look.. it's just that.. well. Just give me a moment, will you? I need to think of how to say this right.' It was now his turn to feel anxious, and he started picking at everything he could find to keep calm. His nails, the wood on the trench you two were sitting on, the zipper of his jacket, and so on.

You weren't doing much better, shaking your legs up and down, picking at the skin of your lips, and basically dying of anxiety. If you were exaggerating before, now you definitely weren't. You would've preferred the guillotine over this at any moment.

'Yes, of course, take all the time that you need. I'm here for you.'

And after that, it fell silent. The only sound you could hear were the waves of the sea and the snow falling on the both of you, and in the distance, a bit of the long forgotten party going on in the Hermes Cabin. You were now only waiting for Connor to start speaking. You wanted to say patiently, but it was eating you up inside.

A few minutes went by, and you couldn't take it anymore. You were about to say something before he beat you to it again.

'Okay, so this isn't going to be easy to say, but I want you to listen to me until I'm done. Please. I know I'm not the best speaker in the world, and I really did want to make this more worthy of you, more meaningful, but I'm probably gonna mess things up, so I'm sorry in advance, but just try and listen, okay?' He began, carefully, and you just nodded, following his instruction and waiting for him to continue.

'Okay so, well, I thought this was honestly kind of obvious already - he said this with a smile - but I really like you, and I mean really, since at least a few years I think already. And seeing you with that Apollo kid, I don't know it just made me mad, I thought I couldn't stand a chance against someone like that, so much more talented and what not than me. And not only him, I mean everyone. You're just so perfect in every sense, and I know you could do so much better than me, so I got a bit self-conscious, but that's it. I'm so sorry for worrying you. It really wasn't my intention to be such a dick, but my emotions got the better of me.'

You were left speechless. You really didn't know what to say. Not even a sound could come out of your mouth at that point. Luckily, it didn't have to because Connor went on before you could even think of anything to say.

'No, wait, don't say anything yet. I'm not finished. I want to say it better. This is definitely not how I imagined this. You know I made up so many speeches in my head, practising on what I would tell you if ever came the right moment. But I forgot all of them now, so I'll just have to figure something out,

'I am every second more infatuated by your presence, by your kindness, your beauty. You leave me without breath every time that I see you, and every time, just a bit more than the day before. Every time I look up at the stars, I'm reminded of you, perplexed on how the Gods didn't take you as the inspiration of such creations. Every time I look up at the moon, I can't think of anything else other than how your beauty surpasses even hers, how the reflection of the moonlight on the water isn't just an allegory of you. Because it's something so beautiful that you just can't take your eyes off it. How honey isn't scraped directly from your voice because it's even more sweet and warm than a cup of tea. You fill me with joy of which I've never experienced before, which I didn't even know was real. I'm at every second more and more confused on how all of nature doesn't revolve around you, on how it wasn't created for you and because of you, for at every thing I look at I am every constant reminded of you. If I ever was to meet Aphrodite, I know she would take your appearance and, although I can't dare say you are more beautiful than her or you know what would happen, I can say that in this world and all the universe you are one of the Gods' most beautiful creations. That if it weren't for Prometheus, I would steal the fire just for you, and you only, to keep you warm from days like this one. To keep you warm like you do constantly to me, by just your mere presence, by just an insignificant conversation you could have with me, which I hold dear forever and never forget. What I'm trying to say is that I don't only like you, no... no. I would hold up the sky full of stars and galaxies for you, I would go up to the moon to retrieve your lost items for you, even just to see your smile, to see you happy, to know that you are content. For you have already stolen my soul and hold my heart, I couldn't sell it to the devil, but I would, just to let him promise me to always keep you safe, that nothing could ever touch or hurt you. For you only I think and plan, for you only I ever want to live on. I love you, I really do, and I only hope for you to love me back at your own pace and time. But I could never force you to do anything. If you don't reciprocate my feelings, let's forget about this. Just go on with our daily lives. A simple no, or just a shake of your head, will silence me forever, I won't ever bother you again, I promise. But if there's even just one chance, a little bit of hope that you could give me a try, please don't let me wait for too long. Because how I am to take even one second longer of this I do not know.'

And with this, he stopped talking. He went completely mute, now only waiting for your answer, for a little hope.

But you didn't know what to say, how could after such a speech, such a confession? Anything you would say, even if meaningful, would never compete to something such beautiful and utterly captivating as this.

So you opted for saying exactly that.

'Connor.. I.. I'm really speechless, I don't know what to say, no, everything I would say could never compete with what you just did. I'm so sorry, but I really don't know how to own up to that.' You said with the biggest smile you ever had, which started growing since Connor began to speak.

'No, don't worry about that, just tell me, please. A yes or a no would be sufficient enough.' The poor boy was so stressed, but you couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't you mocking him or anything like that. It was a genuinely happy laugh, like you've never had before. He also started laughing at this, being influenced by you.

'Stop laughing, I'm serious. You're making me sweat cold here.' He said, finally lighting up from his serious stance.

'I'm so sorry, but I just really can't see how you could've become this worked up only because I was singing Last Christmas with some guy. Like, really, from all the songs Last Christmas, that's not even classifiable as a real love song.' At this point, you just couldn't stop laughing, completely captivated, almost not being able to breathe anymore.

'Hey! That's not true. It's one of the greatest love songs ever written. And I'm honestly quite offended you didn't sing it with me, okay. You know how much I love Wham!' Saying this, he also kicked your leg playfully. Finally, the mood was completely lightened up. Now, the interaction being like one of the many you had every day.

'Okay, now on a serious note', you began, and you could see Connor tensing up again, 'yes. And a million times, yes. I really like you, Connor, and I've had probably since I came to this camp. I could even say that I love you too.. but maybe for that, I do need a bit of time. But I do want to give it a try, and more than one if need to. Just don't make anything like that up anymore. Otherwise, I'd just look like a bad girlfriend, okay? I can't even come up with a good speech to convince my dad to let me adopt a cat, even think of confessing my undying love for you. I just think I need a little bit more time than you, but I'll get there eventually, I promise. Just wait until you'll get a Jane Austen type letter under your pillow.' You finally said, as sincere as you could. You were truly so happy, and you think you've never been this happy ever in your life (at least not until your dad would finally cave in and let you get a cat).

Connor, too, was happy. Oh, so happy, he thought he could break out in some type of dance right there and walk up to the sky to get a handful of stars to gift to you. But that was impossible, so he opted to wrap an arm around you and let you rest your head on his shoulder.

And like that, you stayed for a while, just you two together under the snow looking up at the stars and into the horizon.

'Don't worry, if we ever move in together, we're gonna adopt not one cat, but at least twenty, be sure of that.' He said.

Okayy this is it! I really hope you like this. omg, it came out so much longer than I was expecting. Also im so sorry it took so long to write but I was really busy with school! Also im honestly very happy about the ending. Hope you guys like it!

[thebeatles-world]

John lennon x assistant reader enemies to lovers imagine?:D

It wasn’t exactly your dream job to be a assistant , but when the opportunity came, you couldn’t say no. Working with The Beatles in 1964 was supposed to be exciting, glamorous even, but dealing with John’s sharp tongue and constant sarcasm was more than you had bargained for.

From the moment you started, he seemed to take pleasure in making your life difficult. Late-night calls, impossible errands, little comments under his breath—it all made you want to scream. Every day felt like a battle. You’d argue over everything, from how you arranged his schedule to the way you brewed his tea.

“Are you ever going to get it right?” he’d say, with that smirk that both infuriated and, to your dismay, intrigued you.

But there was one person who made the chaos of working for The Beatles bearable—Ringo Starr. From day one, he was always kind, always checking in on you when John was being particularly difficult. You often found yourself laughing at his jokes, enjoying his company far more than John’s relentless teasing.

Little did you know, Ringo had started to develop feelings for you, watching from the sidelines as you and John butted heads. But he never said a word, always hiding his crush behind a friendly smile and a supportive presence.

One evening, after a particularly rough day where John had given you more grief than usual, Ringo found you sitting alone in the studio, rubbing your temples in frustration.

“You alright, love?” he asked, his voice soft, filled with concern.

You sighed, shaking your head. “It’s John. He’s impossible.”

Ringo smiled gently, sitting next to you. “He’s not all bad, y’know. Just has a funny way of showing it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Funny’s not the word I’d use.”

But before Ringo could respond, John himself appeared in the doorway. “What’s this then? Crying to Ringo about me, are ya?”

You bristled, ready to snap back, but something in John’s eyes made you hesitate. He didn’t look quite as smug as usual. In fact, there was a flicker of something else—something almost vulnerable.

“Maybe if you weren’t such an insufferable—” you started, but John cut you off, stepping closer.

“You think I don’t notice how hard you’re working? I do. I just…” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I just don’t know how to say it without sounding like an idiot.”

Your heart skipped a beat, confused by his sudden change in tone. “Say what?”

“That you’re not half bad yourself,” he muttered, looking away.

You blinked. John Lennon, complimenting you? It was so far from what you expected that you didn’t know how to respond. But before you could gather your thoughts, Ringo stood up, his expression unreadable.

“I’ll leave you two to it then,” he said, his usual warmth gone, though his voice was gentle. He gave you one last, almost wistful smile before walking out, leaving you and John alone.

The silence stretched between you, tense and awkward. You crossed your arms. “What’s this about, John? If this is some kind of joke…”

“It’s not,” he said quickly, his eyes meeting yours. “I’m not good at this—saying how I feel. But I think… I think I’ve been giving you a hard time because I’ve been trying to push down something I shouldn’t.”

You felt your breath catch. “And what’s that?”

He stepped closer, close enough that you could see the seriousness in his eyes. “I like you. More than I should.”

For a moment, you stood there in stunned silence. John Lennon liked you? After all the bickering and back-and-forths? You didn’t know whether to laugh or shout at him for putting you through all the stress.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” you said, your voice softening despite yourself.

He gave you a sheepish smile, the first genuine smile you’d ever seen from him. “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly smooth, am I?”

You let out a breath, shaking your head. “No. You’re not.”

But before you could say anything else, he leaned in, his hand brushing yours. “Maybe I can try something else then,” he whispered, his voice low.

Your heart raced, and despite all the arguing, all the frustration, you found yourself leaning in too. The kiss was soft, tentative at first, but full of a passion that had been hiding behind every sarcastic remark and heated argument.

And though it felt right in that moment, there was still a small ache in your chest—a flicker of guilt as Ringo’s kind face flashed in your mind. He had been there for you when John wasn’t, always with a smile, always with patience.

When you pulled away from John, you smiled, but there was still a part of you that couldn’t forget about the drummer with the quiet crush.

[julialestrade]

60s!Paul McCartney x reader

Tunes and Timeless Moments

Authors note : this is a SMUT FREE 60s high school au where the band will exist but it plays before " The Beatles " fanfic

Slow burn and fluff

Warnings : tooth rotting fluff , romance , teen romance , and some use of Y/N

——————————————————————

It was a nice summer day in Liverpool and your class and other people from your grade were getting settled in a school bus as you were about to go on a 4 week field trip , because of a shortage of teachers , so your school has to make time to find new ones . And even though it was a bit full when you and your friends were boarding the coach you still found three free rows and you got one to yourself right next to a window without any things to block it . Now you were chatting with your friend a row ahead when a boy from your class slid into the last empty seat next to you. He flashed a casual grin and said, “Seems like I’ve nabbed the final seat. Hope you don’t mind the company—uhm what is your name again ? “ you look at the boy a bit weirded out , because who Tf speaks to someone they don’t really know , right ? But to be polite you have him a light smile and stretched out your hand to and introduced yourself to him . " y/n – l/n y/n pleasure to meet you ! " the boy just smiles at you and shakes your hand and after a while you start to pull away and ask him for his name wich he finally shares with you … he was called Paul McCartney and then it clicked , he was the music obsessed boy you sat behind of in math class .

(Ugh you know what imma switch to first person perspective)

We both had made small talk from time to time in between school hours or had greeted each other in the school hallway but there was nothing more of any interaction than those . So as one figured after a bit of small talk, the conversation naturally fizzled out. You exchanged names and brief introductions, but now there was an awkward silence. You glanced out the window, watching the few teachers coming with you loading the bus with the bus driver , while he fiddled with his bags straps .

After some time the silence became insufferable and you had to start talking again .

“So, are you excited about the trip ? “ Paul looks up at you and replies with a relieved sigh

“Yeah, sounds interesting enough. I’m just hoping it’s not another one of those places where you’re not allowed to do anything but for things that have educational purposes .”

With slight intrigues I reply to him “Oh, I know what you mean. I find it super annoying . What’s the most trouble you’ve ever gotten into on a trip?”

Paul thinks for a Minute and then replies a few seconds later with a smile playing on his lips “Well, there was that time I tried to ‘borrow’ a statue’s hat at the last museum visit. Turns out, it wasn’t a prop. How about you?”

“I once got stuck in a gift shop because I was trying to sneak a peek at the secret stockroom. Got caught by the shopkeeper. Classic.”

“Sounds like we’re both experts in getting into mischief. Maybe we should stick together today. We could be a team of troublemakers.”

“Deal. Just promise you won’t get us thrown out.”

“No promises. But I’ll try my best. So, what’s your favorite part of these trips?”

“Probably the bus rides. It’s the only time we get to just talk and hang out without worrying about homework.”

“I’m with you there. The bus ride’s the best part. And who knows, maybe we’ll come up with a new adventure story by the end of the day.”

I nodded, trying to ignore the butterflies that were suddenly making themselves at home in my stomach. There was something about the way Paul spoke, so effortlessly casual yet with a glint of mischief behind every word. I hadn’t thought much about him before, but sitting next to him now, I couldn’t help but be intrigued.

“So, do you play any instruments?” I asked, half expecting a standard reply. It was a question that usually led to a predictable conversation, which, given the awkwardness earlier, felt like a safe bet.

He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Funny you ask. I’ve been known to mess around with a bass now and then. You?”

“Mess around?” I echoed, laughing lightly. “That’s not very convincing. And no, I’m more of a listener, to be honest. Though I do own a dusty piano .”

“Ah, a listener. Even better. Musicians need an audience, after all,” he teased, tapping his fingers on the armrest as if playing an invisible rhythm.

I rolled my eyes playfully. “Are you trying to recruit me as your personal fan?”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone in the crowd rooting for me,” he joked, but there was a flicker of something sincere in his eyes.

“Are you any good?” I asked, feeling the conversation loosening up as we both settled into the bus seats. The awkwardness from before had faded, replaced by a lightness that I hadn’t expected.

Paul shrugged modestly. “I suppose you’ll have to find out one day, won’t you?”

“Maybe I will,” I replied, half-smiling. There was a pause as I glanced out the window again. The teachers had finished loading the bags, and the bus was finally starting to pull away from the school. The familiar streets of Liverpool blurred past, but I could already feel the sense of freedom that came with leaving it all behind for a while.

Paul leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out in front of him as much as the cramped bus would allow. “Four weeks, huh? Hard to believe we’re getting out of school for that long.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “It’s weird, but kind of exciting. No classes, no homework... just us and a bunch of museums and... whatever else they’ve got planned.”

“Sounds like trouble waiting to happen,” he mused with a grin, then turned to me with a curious look. “So, what do you reckon we’ll do with all that free time?”

I shrugged, thinking it over. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to see where the trip takes us. Maybe we’ll be well-behaved and stick to the itinerary, or maybe we’ll end up sneaking off and finding our own adventures.”

“Now you’re talking,” he said, his grin widening. “I like the sound of that. Let’s make a pact, yeah? No matter what, we find a way to have some fun on this trip. Deal?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Deal.”

We shook on it, and for the first time since he sat down next to me, the silence that followed felt comfortable. The kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled with words. I leaned back in my seat, feeling a little more at ease, and glanced over at him. He was staring out the window now, lost in thought, his fingers

The hours passed as the bus hummed along the winding roads out of Liverpool, and the initial excitement of the trip settled into a comfortable lull. Most of our classmates were either dozing off, flipping through magazines, or talking quietly among themselves. Paul had gone quiet beside me, staring out the window again with that distant look on his face. I wondered if he was thinking about his band or maybe even some new lyrics.

Eventually, he broke the silence. “You ever been away from home this long?”

I shook my head. “Not really. I mean, I’ve gone on a few trips with my family, but never for four weeks. Feels a bit strange, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, stretching his legs out as far as they could go in the cramped space. “Not that I’m complaining, though. Gets me out of school for a bit. Gives me time to work on some songs without all the usual distractions.”

I turned toward him, curious. “What kind of songs are you working on?”

He smiled, but there was something almost shy about it this time. “Just, you know, stuff about life, love, that sort of thing. Trying to find a sound that feels right.”

“Sounds deep,” I teased lightly, though I was genuinely interested. “Think you’ll play any of them on this trip?”

Paul chuckled. “Not sure how well that’d go over with the teachers. But maybe if I can sneak my guitar along, we’ll see.”

“Hey, you’ve got four weeks to work your magic. You could start a bus sing-along or something,” I joked, imagining how chaotic that would get.

“Now that would be a sight,” he laughed. “Though I’m not sure everyone here’s ready for that. You might be the only one who appreciates my questionable taste in music.”

I smirked. “Questionable, huh? Now I’m curious what kind of tunes you’re into.”

He thought for a moment, tapping his fingers on the seat again, before grinning. “Tell you what, I’ll give you a taste later. But you’ve got to promise to be brutally honest—none of that polite nodding if you think it’s rubbish.”

“Deal,” I said, feeling a bit of excitement bubbling up. It wasn’t every day you got the chance to hear original music from a classmate who just might be the next big thing.

The bus hit another bump, jolting us both slightly, and Paul shifted in his seat, his expression turning a bit more mischievous . “You know, this trip could be a real chance to get away from all that usual school stuff—figure out what we’re actually good at, you know?”

I nodded, understanding what he meant. “Yeah, it’s nice to get a break from the usual routine. It feels like everything’s always about exams and homework, and you never really get time to think about what you actually want to do.”

He looked at me, his gaze steady. “Exactly. Feels like we’re just going through the motions most of the time. Maybe this trip’s the chance to shake things up a bit.”

We shared a moment of quiet understanding. It was strange to think that this boy I’d barely talked to before today was someone who seemed to get it—the feeling of wanting more than just the typical school routine, of wanting to do something that mattered.

After a moment, Paul’s easy grin returned, and he tilted his head toward the front of the bus. “Think we’ll make it through this trip without any major disasters?”

I laughed. “Not a chance. But hey, at least we’ll have some good stories to tell when we get back.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his seat again. “That’s the spirit. Let’s make sure they’re worth telling.”

With that, the conversation fell into a more comfortable silence. The miles stretched out ahead of us, and I found myself looking forward to whatever came next. Maybe this trip would be more than just a break from school. Maybe it would be the start of something… interesting.

As I glanced over at Paul, who was now lost in his thoughts again, I couldn’t help but feel that this was just the beginning of whatever adventure we were about to stumble into.

The bus continued to hum along the road, and after what felt like an eternity of winding through the countryside, I noticed Paul had gone quiet again. He was still beside me, lost in thought, staring out the window at the rolling hills. The earlier ease between us had settled into something quieter, something a little more comfortable but still new.

I shifted in my seat, feeling the stiffness in my legs from sitting for so long. Paul must have noticed because he turned to me with a small smile. “Long ride, huh?”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “My legs are starting to feel like they’re turning into jelly.”

He chuckled softly. “Maybe we should’ve brought a guitar or something. Could’ve passed the time with a sing-along.”

I smiled at that. “And what would you have played? Something we all know, or one of your originals?”

Paul shrugged, that same casual smirk playing on his lips. “Depends. I might’ve tested out a new tune if I felt like the crowd was up for it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “New tune? So, you’ve got some secret songs you’re hiding from us?”

“Not exactly,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “Just a few ideas, you know? Scribbles in a notebook, half-finished lyrics… nothing special.”

I laughed softly. “I doubt that. You seem like the kind of person who’s always working on something creative.”

Paul looked at me, a little surprised by the compliment. “Maybe. It’s just… you never know when something’s going to stick. Sometimes, you’re just playing around, and then all of a sudden, it turns into something real.”

I nodded, feeling a bit of admiration for him that I hadn’t expected. “I guess that’s the exciting part, right? Not knowing what’s going to come out of it?”

“Exactly,” he said, his eyes lighting up a bit. “That’s what keeps it interesting.”

We fell into another comfortable silence, and this time it didn’t feel awkward at all. Instead, it felt like we were both content to let the conversation come and go as it pleased. Maybe this trip wouldn’t be so bad after all.

I glanced over at Paul, feeling the conversation drifting into silence again, and decided to ask something that had been on my mind. “So… do you play in a band or anything? You mentioned the bass earlier.”

He looked a little surprised at the question, then smiled, a hint of something more serious in his expression. “Yeah, actually. A few of us have been messing around with the idea. It’s nothing big yet, just playing a few tunes in garages or wherever we can.”

I tilted my head, intrigued. “That sounds pretty cool. How’d you get into it?”

Paul shrugged, a bit more relaxed now. “I’ve always loved music, ever since I was a kid. My dad plays piano, and I just sort of… picked things up. Then, once I got my hands on a guitar, there was no going back.”

“That’s impressive,” I said, genuinely meaning it. “I always thought about learning an instrument, but I never really got past a few half-hearted piano lessons.”

He chuckled. “Piano’s not a bad place to start. But you know, it’s never too late to try something new. Could always join us for a jam session.”

“Me?” I laughed, shaking my head. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Hey, everyone’s got to start somewhere,” Paul said with a grin. “Besides, it’s more about having fun than being perfect.”

I smiled at that, appreciating his easygoing attitude. “I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe I’ll surprise you one day and show up with a tambourine or something.”

He laughed, the sound light and easy. “Now that would be something. We could always use more percussion.”

Paul’s laughter lingered for a moment, and I couldn’t help but smile, feeling a bit more comfortable now. The awkwardness had melted away, replaced by a casual warmth between us.

“So,” I said, glancing out the window at the countryside rolling by, “what kind of music do you guys play? Is it, like, rock and roll?”

He nodded, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “Yeah, that’s the idea. Rock and roll, a bit of skiffle—stuff that makes you want to move, you know? We’re still figuring it out, but we’ve been covering a lot of Chuck Berry, Little Richard… those kinds of tunes.”

“Chuck Berry, huh?” I raised an eyebrow. “That’s some serious stuff. You must be pretty good.”

Paul shrugged modestly, though there was a hint of pride in his voice. “We’re getting there. It’s all about practice. But it’s not just about being good—it’s about having fun with it, and seeing where it takes us.”

I nodded, impressed. “That sounds amazing. I don’t know many people who actually follow through on something like that.”

“Well,” he said with a grin, “we’ll see if we can make something of it. For now, it’s just nice to have an excuse to hang out with the lads and make some noise.”

“Do you have a name for the band yet?” I asked, leaning into the conversation now, genuinely curious.

Paul laughed, shaking his head. “Not yet. We’ve been throwing around ideas, but nothing’s stuck so far. Naming a band’s harder than you’d think. It’s got to feel right, you know?”

I smiled at that. “Yeah, I can imagine. It’s like naming a baby or something—it’s got to fit.”

“Exactly!” He pointed at me, nodding. “We don’t want to pick something we’ll regret later on.”

“Well, if you need any suggestions, I’m here to help,” I said playfully.

Paul chuckled. “I might just take you up on that.”

We fell into a more comfortable silence after that, but this time it didn’t feel awkward. Instead, it felt like the start of something new, like this conversation was the first step toward an unexpected friendship. The bus continued to rumble along the road, and I leaned back in my seat, feeling lighter than I had at the beginning of the trip.

As the scenery blurred by outside, Paul tapped his fingers on his knee, lost in thought. “You know,” he said after a moment, “I think this trip could be a good time to work on some new songs. Get some fresh ideas.”

“Yeah?” I asked, intrigued. “What inspires you when you write?”

He tilted his head, considering. “Anything, really. A bit of life, love, people I meet… sometimes it’s just a feeling that comes out of nowhere. You never know when inspiration will hit, so you’ve got to be ready.”

“That’s pretty deep,” I said, half-teasing but also impressed. “I guess I never really thought about songwriting like that.”

Paul smiled at me, his eyes softening. “It’s not as complicated as it sounds. You just… write what you feel, you know? Maybe one day you’ll give it a try.”

“Maybe,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if I had that kind of talent. Still, the idea of trying something new, of exploring creativity, sounded appealing.

The bus hit a small bump, jostling us both in our seats, and we shared a brief laugh at the unexpected jolt. The conversation started to drift again, but this time, it felt natural. We didn’t need to fill the silence with forced words. The bus continued on, carrying us toward whatever adventures lay ahead.

I couldn’t help but wonder what the next few weeks would bring, and whether this unexpected connection with Paul would turn into something more than just a fleeting conversation on a school bus.

After we all gathered our bags, the teachers started dividing us into our assigned rooms. The sun was nearly set by now, casting a soft orange glow through the windows of the old estate. The long day of travel had caught up with everyone, and the buzz of excitement had faded into tired chatter.

"Y/N, Room 12," one of the teachers called, ticking off names on a clipboard. I nodded, tightening my grip on my bag and heading inside the building. Paul was still beside me, waiting to hear his own room assignment.

"McCartney, Room 9," another teacher announced, and Paul raised his hand with a small grin.

“Looks like we’re not too far from each other,” he said, adjusting his bag over his shoulder. “Not bad.”

I smiled back. “Yeah, close enough to find each other if we need to plot any late-night escapes.”

Paul laughed lightly. “You never know. But for tonight, I think I’m just going to crash. Too knackered for any adventures.”

"Same here," I agreed, stifling a yawn. The thought of a bed sounded incredibly appealing after a long day cooped up on the bus.

We both followed the hallway until it split off into different sections. My room was down one corridor, and his was down another. Paul turned to face me as we reached the split, flashing a tired but sincere smile.

“Well, goodnight then,” he said softly. “See you tomorrow?”

“Definitely,” I replied. “Goodnight, Paul. Sleep well.”

“You too,” he said with a small wave before turning and walking off toward his room.

I headed to my own room, pushing open the door to find it was already half-occupied by another girl from my grade. She looked just as exhausted as I felt, already halfway through unpacking her things onto her bed. We exchanged tired smiles and quick introductions before both agreeing to call it a night and save any further conversation for tomorrow.

After a quick change into my pajamas, I climbed into bed, the weight of the day finally settling over me. I could hear faint murmurs of conversation through the thin walls, including what might have been Paul's voice from down the hall. But soon, even that faded as the building grew quiet, and sleep started to pull me under. The last thought I had before drifting off was that this trip was just beginning, and I had a feeling there was much more to come—especially when it came to Paul.

-Paul’s POV -

Paul flopped onto his bed with a contented sigh, letting his tired limbs sink into the surprisingly soft mattress. The room was modest but comfortable, with a pair of neatly made beds, a small dresser, and a window that let in a sliver of the moonlight.

George, who was sprawled on his own bed across the room, looked up from fiddling with his guitar case. “So, how’s your day been, mate?” he asked, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and exhaustion.

Paul grinned, propping himself up on one elbow. “Not too bad. Got to know someone from our class a bit better. You know, Y/N? They ended up sitting next to me on the bus.”

George raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Oh, really? And how’d that go?”

“Pretty well, actually,” Paul said, shrugging. “We talked about the trip, a bit about music. Seems like a decent sort. We’re both in for some fun, I reckon.”

George smirked. “And here I thought you’d be too busy plotting your next great escape to talk to anyone.”

Paul chuckled. “Hey, a little adventure is always better with company, right? Besides, I didn’t exactly get any time to plot today. The bus ride was more about trying not to fall asleep and making sure I didn’t annoy everyone around me.”

George laughed, the sound echoing slightly in the small room. “Fair enough. And what did you think of the place so far? Not too shabby, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s got its charm,” Paul said, glancing around the room. “Bit different from the usual. Feels like we’re really on a proper adventure now. I mean, four weeks in this old place? It’s bound to be interesting.”

George nodded, strumming a few chords on his guitar absentmindedly. “Sounds like it’ll be a good time. And you know what they say—new experiences are always worth a shot.”

“Exactly,” Paul agreed, sitting up and stretching. “It’ll be nice to get away from the usual grind. Plus, we’ll have plenty of time to mess about, come up with new tunes, and maybe even make some new friends.”

George glanced over, his expression thoughtful. “You’ve got that right. And with this lot, who knows what kind of trouble we’ll get up to.”

Paul grinned, feeling a surge of excitement. “Trouble, new friends, and maybe even some inspiration for new songs. Sounds like a good plan to me.”

As the conversation continued, the two friends talked about their plans for the upcoming weeks, sharing their hopes and expectations. The room was filled with a relaxed, easy camaraderie that only grew stronger with the passing minutes. It was a quiet, comfortable end to a long day, and as Paul finally settled into his bed, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this trip might just be the beginning of something extraordinary.

“Well, time for some shut-eye,” Paul said, stifling a yawn. “Big day ahead tomorrow.”

George nodded in agreement, his guitar case now closed and resting by his bed. “Goodnight, Paul. See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, George,” Paul replied, turning off the bedside lamp and letting the darkness envelop the room. As he drifted off to sleep, his thoughts wandered back to Y/N and the promise of the adventures that lay ahead.

As George’s breathing settled into a rhythmic, steady pattern, Paul lay awake in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling. His mind was a whirl of thoughts and images from the day.

He couldn’t help but replay the moments he’d shared with Y/N. Her easy smile and quick wit had made a strong impression on him. He found himself wondering what it would be like to spend more time with her, to see where their conversations could lead. There was something undeniably engaging about her—a spark of curiosity and a willingness to engage in lighthearted banter that had struck a chord with him.

Paul thought about the little details of their interaction: how she had seemed genuinely interested when he mentioned his band and how she had laughed at his jokes. The thought of her intrigued him more than he expected. He recalled the way she looked when she mentioned her dusty piano, her eyes lighting up just a bit. He wondered if she might be someone who could appreciate the kind of music he was passionate about, someone who might even share some of his own interests.

He shifted slightly in his bed, trying to get comfortable as he continued to muse over the potential for new friendships and adventures. The trip was supposed to be a break from the usual grind, but Paul was beginning to see it as a chance to explore not just new places, but new relationships and possibilities.

As the minutes ticked by, Paul’s thoughts wandered to what the next few weeks might hold. Would he and Y/N find themselves paired up for group activities, or would they stumble upon shared interests that brought them closer? He imagined showing her his guitar, maybe even playing a few of his songs, and wondered if she would be interested in hearing them.

There was a small thrill in the uncertainty of it all—the sense of adventure that came with not knowing exactly what was around the corner. Paul felt a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. The future was full of potential, and he was eager to see where it would lead.

-Time skip to the next morning -

(Still Paul’s pov)

Eventually, the gentle hum of the night and the comfortable rhythm of his own thoughts began to lull him into sleep. Paul’s mind settled on the possibilities that lay ahead, the idea of new friendships, and the hope that this trip would bring some unexpected but welcome surprises.

Paul settled at the breakfast table with his friends and bandmates, John, George, and Ringo. The morning sun filtered through the dining room windows, casting a warm glow on the old wooden tables. The room buzzed with the chatter of students excitedly discussing the day’s activities. Paul, however, found himself somewhat distracted.

As his friends debated over the itinerary for the day, Paul’s gaze kept drifting toward Y/N’s table. She was laughing at something her friends had said, her laughter a pleasant melody that seemed to stand out against the background noise. Paul tried to focus on the conversation at his table, but he couldn’t help but glance over every so often.

John, ever perceptive, noticed Paul’s wandering attention. With a smirk playing on his lips, he leaned closer to Paul and nudged him with an elbow. “Oi, Paul, what’s caught your eye?”

Paul snapped out of his daydream, his face warming as he realized he had been caught. He looked at John with a sheepish grin. “Oh, nothing much. Just... taking in the morning.”

John raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Right. It seems like you’ve got a special interest in Y/N this morning. Didn’t know you were so keen on the company.”

Paul tried to brush it off, though he could feel himself blushing. “I was just thinking about how the trip might turn out. It’s nice to have some company, that’s all.”

John’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the teasing. “Well, if you’re thinking of making a move, you might want to be subtle about it. Can’t have you making a fool of yourself right out of the gate.”

Ringo, who had been listening with amusement, chimed in. “Looks like Paul’s got himself a bit of a crush. We’ll have to keep an eye on him.”

Paul chuckled nervously, trying to regain his composure. “It’s not like that. Just trying to figure out how we might end up interacting more. Could be interesting, you know?”

George, sensing Paul’s discomfort, gave him a supportive nudge. “Don’t worry about it too much. We’re all here to have a good time. If you end up talking to Y/N more, that’s just part of the adventure.”

As breakfast wound down, the group’s attention shifted to the plans for the day. Paul couldn’t shake the feeling of excitement mingled with nerves. He stole one last glance at Y/N, who was now chatting animatedly with her friends. Despite the teasing from his bandmates, Paul felt a genuine eagerness to get to know her better.

The transition from breakfast to the first activity of the day was quick. The group gathered their things and made their way to the bus, ready for the day’s adventures. Paul joined his friends, the teasing continuing in good spirits, but his mind kept drifting back to the promise of new experiences and the possibility of spending more time with Y/N.

As the bus pulled away from the accommodation, the landscape of the small town began to unfold before them. The anticipation of the day ahead mingled with Paul’s curiosity about Y/N, making the journey feel both exciting and full of potential.

The bus pulled up to the Natural History Museum, and the students began to disembark with excited chatter. The grand facade of the museum loomed ahead, its imposing columns and intricate stonework hinting at the treasures inside. As the group gathered in front of the entrance, the teachers began organizing everyone into pairs for the day’s exploration.

Paul and Y/N had been mingling with their friends, chatting about the exhibits they hoped to see, when one of the teachers called out. “Alright, everyone, we’re going to pair up for the museum tour. Make sure you’re with someone you can work well with!”

Paul glanced over at Y/N, who was also scanning the crowd, likely looking for a familiar face. Just as he was about to suggest they stick together, the teacher’s voice rang out again. “Paul McCartney and Y/N L/N, you’re a pair for the day. Find a partner and get started on the tour!”

Paul’s heart skipped a beat as he turned to Y/N, who looked pleasantly surprised. “Looks like we’re teamed up,” he said with a grin.

Y/N returned the smile. “Guess we’re spending the day together. Ready for some museum exploration?”

Paul nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely. Let’s make the most of it.”

As they entered the museum, the grandeur of the exhibits immediately captured their attention. Fossils, minerals, and ancient artifacts filled the expansive halls, each display more intriguing than the last. The museum guide provided a brief overview of the day’s activities and handed out maps, urging everyone to start exploring.

Paul and Y/N made their way through the exhibits, their conversation flowing easily as they navigated the museum’s vast interior. The initial awkwardness from the bus seemed to have dissipated, replaced by a shared curiosity and enthusiasm for the exhibits. They wandered through the dinosaur gallery, marveled at the minerals on display, and even took turns trying to identify the various fossils.

At one point, they found themselves in front of a particularly impressive diorama featuring prehistoric mammals. Paul leaned closer, examining the display. “These creatures are incredible. Imagine what it must have been like when they roamed the Earth.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes wide with fascination. “It’s amazing to think about how different the world was back then. I’ve always found stuff like this so fascinating.”

Paul glanced at her, noting the genuine excitement in her expression. “You know, I’ve got a bit of a fascination with history myself. Not just the music stuff. There’s something about learning how the world used to be that’s really intriguing.”

Y/N smiled, clearly enjoying the conversation. “I can relate. It’s like stepping back in time and seeing things from a different perspective. Makes you appreciate how much things have changed.”

As they continued their tour, Paul found himself more and more comfortable around Y/N. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by shared discoveries and laughter. It was clear that their time together was turning into something enjoyable and meaningful.

With each exhibit they explored, the day seemed to get better. The initial excitement of the field trip had settled into a genuine connection between the two of them. By the time they took a break in the museum’s café, Paul and Y/N were laughing and chatting like old friends.

“So,” Paul said, taking a sip of his drink, “how are you finding the museum so far?”

“It’s been fantastic,” Y/N replied, her eyes sparkling. “I didn’t expect to enjoy it this much, but having a good tour guide and a great partner definitely makes a difference.”

Paul grinned. “I’d say we make a pretty good team. Here’s to more adventures.”

Y/N raised her cup in a mock toast. “Cheers to that.”

As they finished their break and headed back to explore the remaining exhibits, Paul couldn’t help but feel that the day was turning out better than he’d imagined. Spending time with Y/N had been unexpectedly enjoyable, and he was looking forward to what the rest of the field trip would bring.

-Y/Ns POV -

As Paul and I finished our break in the café, we headed toward the museum’s next big attraction: the Butterfly House. The sun streamed through the glass ceiling, creating a warm, almost magical atmosphere. The Butterfly House was a lush, green paradise filled with colorful flowers and fluttering butterflies of every shade imaginable.

“Wow, this place is incredible,” I said, looking around at the vibrant display of nature.

Paul grinned, clearly just as taken with the exhibit. “It’s like stepping into a different world, isn’t it? All these butterflies—such a riot of colors.”

We walked along the winding path through the Butterfly House, surrounded by the gentle hum of butterflies flitting about. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and the soft rustle of the leaves added to the serene ambiance.

I watched as a particularly large butterfly landed on a nearby flower. “Look at that one—it’s huge! I’ve never seen one like it before.”

Paul leaned closer, squinting at the butterfly. “That’s a Swallowtail, I think. They’re pretty common, but they’re always impressive to see up close.”

We continued down the path, pausing occasionally to admire the butterflies landing on the flowers and even a few that landed on our shoulders or arms. It felt like a gentle, almost playful interaction with nature.

“So,” Paul said, breaking the pleasant silence, “what do you think of all this? It’s pretty amazing, right?”

“I love it,” I replied, smiling at the sight of a butterfly landing gently on my hand. “It’s so peaceful and beautiful. I never expected to enjoy it this much.”

Paul chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment. “I’m glad we’re having a good time. It’s nice to just take a break from the usual routine and soak in something like this.”

We continued walking, enjoying the beauty around us. Paul’s easy demeanor and the relaxed environment made for a perfect combination, and I found myself feeling more at ease with each passing moment.

After spending some time in the Butterfly House, we decided to explore the museum’s main exhibition hall. The hall was grand and filled with a diverse range of exhibits, from ancient artifacts to natural history displays.

As we moved through the various exhibits, Paul pointed out interesting facts and shared his own observations, making the experience more engaging. We found ourselves getting lost in conversations about everything from historical events to the mysteries of the natural world.

“This place is a treasure trove of information,” I said, looking around at the impressive displays. “There’s so much to take in.”

Paul nodded, his enthusiasm evident. “It really is. I could spend all day here just exploring and learning new things.”

We spent hours wandering through the exhibits, and as the day went on, I felt a growing sense of camaraderie with Paul. Our shared curiosity and enthusiasm made for great company, and I was genuinely enjoying our time together.

As we made our way back to the entrance, Paul looked over at me with a smile. “So, how do you feel about the day so far?”

“It’s been fantastic,” I said, returning his smile. “I didn’t expect to have such a great time. Thanks for making it so enjoyable.”

Paul’s eyes sparkled with a mix of gratitude and amusement. “Glad to hear that. It’s been a pleasure exploring with you.”

We walked out of the museum together, the sun beginning to set and casting a warm glow over the city. The day had been filled with discovery and laughter, and I found myself looking forward to more moments like this as the field trip continued.

As Paul and I made our way back to the bus after a full day at the museum, we decided to take one last stroll around the museum grounds. We came across a small garden area that had been carefully maintained and was home to a variety of plants and, of course, more butterflies.

I stopped to admire a particularly vibrant flower bed, and Paul followed my gaze. “Look at that—more butterflies. They really seem to love this place.”

I chuckled and pointed to a patch of bugs crawling on the leaves. “You know, seeing all these bugs makes me think of something ridiculous.”

Paul raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What’s that?”

“Well,” I began with a grin, “I couldn’t help but notice that some of these little guys look like they’re having a bit of a band meeting. If I had to name a band after these bugs, I’d call them ‘The Beetles.’”

Paul blinked, then burst into laughter. “The Beetles? That’s brilliant! They’d definitely have a unique sound—imagine their hit single, ‘I Want to Hold Your Beetle.’”

I laughed along with him, enjoying the playful banter. “Exactly! And their debut album could be ‘With a Little Help from My Bugs.’”

Paul wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “You’ve got a real knack for coming up with names. I’m impressed.”

“Well,” I said, “if you ever need a band name or a joke for your future concerts, you know where to find me.”

We continued our walk, still laughing about the joke. The sun was setting, casting a warm golden hue over the museum grounds. As we approached the bus, Paul looked at me with a thoughtful expression.

“You know,” he said, “that’s actually not a bad idea. I think ‘The Beetles’ could work—if only there were enough bugs to fill out the band.”

“Hey, you never know,” I said with a wink. “Maybe we’ll discover a whole new world of insect rock stars.”

We boarded the bus, the laughter from our earlier joke still lingering in the air. As we found our seats, Paul and I exchanged smiles, feeling a new level of camaraderie. It had been a day full of discoveries and laughter, and I couldn’t wait to see what other adventures awaited us on this field trip.

As we settled back into our seats on the bus, the remnants of our laughter still lingering, I couldn’t help but continue with the playful theme. “You know,” I said with a mischievous grin, “if you’re serious about naming a band after these bugs, maybe you should tweak the name a bit.”

Paul raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Oh? What do you have in mind?”

“Well,” I began, “instead of ‘The Beetles,’ why not change it to ‘The Beatles’? It sounds a bit more... musical, don’t you think?”

Paul’s eyes widened in surprise as he processed the suggestion. “The Beatles? That’s actually quite clever. It’s got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“Exactly,” I said, pleased with his reaction. “And it’s got that whole play on words thing going on—‘beat’ as in rhythm and ‘beatle’ as in the bug. It’s perfect for a band.”

Paul chuckled, shaking his head in amazement. “You know, you might be onto something there. If I ever start a band, I might just have to use that name.”

I laughed. “Well, if that ever happens, I expect a backstage pass.”

Paul grinned. “Deal. And I’ll make sure to credit you for the name idea.”

As the bus began to pull away, taking us to our accommodations for the night, Paul and I continued chatting about music and our favorite bands. The playful banter had turned into a more engaging conversation, and I was enjoying every moment of it.

The name ‘The Beatles’ had become an inside joke between us, a reminder of a day filled with unexpected fun and connection. As we arrived at our lodgings and prepared for the evening, I couldn’t help but feel that this field trip was turning out to be far more interesting than I’d originally anticipated.

As the days rolled by on our field trip, what started as a casual acquaintance had evolved into something much more meaningful. By the time the final week arrived, Paul and I had settled into a comfortable rhythm, our conversations flowing effortlessly and our shared laughter becoming a staple of our daily interactions.

Our time exploring museums, historical sites, and even the occasional impromptu adventure had drawn us closer. We had spent countless hours together, whether it was discussing our favorite bands, trying to solve random trivia questions, or simply enjoying the quiet moments on the bus rides between destinations.

The final week of the trip arrived with a sense of bittersweet anticipation. On one hand, we were looking forward to returning home and sharing our experiences with friends and family. On the other, it was hard to imagine not seeing Paul every day, not sharing those spontaneous jokes or planning our next playful escapade.

One evening, as we sat on a bench overlooking a scenic park near our lodgings, I turned to Paul, who was idly strumming on his guitar. The soft strains of his music blended with the tranquil surroundings, creating a serene atmosphere that seemed to echo the sentiment of our time together.

“Can you believe it’s almost over?” I asked, watching as the last rays of sunlight painted the sky in hues of orange and pink.

Paul glanced up, his expression thoughtful. “It’s gone by so quickly. Feels like just yesterday we were trying to come up with band names for a bunch of bugs.”

I laughed softly, the memory bringing a warm feeling. “Yeah, and who would have thought that joke would turn into one of our favorite inside jokes?”

Paul smiled, setting his guitar aside and turning to face me. “It’s been an amazing trip. I didn’t expect to make such a good friend, let alone someone I’d look forward to seeing every day.”

I met his gaze, feeling a flutter of emotion. “I know what you mean. This trip has been a lot more memorable because of you.”

We shared a comfortable silence, the evening air cool against our skin. The park was quiet except for the distant sounds of other tourists and the occasional rustle of leaves. It was a peaceful moment, one that seemed to encapsulate everything we had experienced together over the past few weeks.

As the sun set and the stars began to twinkle in the sky, I felt a sense of gratitude for the connection we had built. The upcoming departure felt like a poignant end to a chapter that had brought unexpected joy and companionship.

Paul’s voice broke the silence gently. “You know, even when this trip ends, I hope we stay in touch. It’s been really great getting to know you.”

I nodded, smiling warmly. “I’d like that too. It’s been an incredible journey, and I’m glad we’ve shared it.”

As we sat there, watching the stars emerge and the city lights begin to twinkle in the distance, I couldn’t help but feel that this final week had been the culmination of something truly special. It was the end of an adventure, but also the beginning of a new connection that I hoped would last long after the field trip was over.

The final days of our field trip flew by in a whirlwind of excitement and nostalgia. Before we knew it, the bus was pulling back into our school parking lot, and the familiar sights of our hometown began to come into view. As we disembarked and said our goodbyes to the teachers and other students, there was a palpable sense of both relief and sadness.

Paul and I lingered near the bus, our luggage in hand, as the excitement of returning home mingled with the wistfulness of leaving behind the memorable experiences we had shared. We chatted about our favorite moments and laughed over inside jokes from the trip, trying to hold onto the easy camaraderie we had built.

As the crowd began to thin and students reunited with their families, Paul glanced at me with a thoughtful expression. “Hey,” he began, scratching the back of his neck nervously, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

I looked at him, curiosity piqued. “Yeah? What’s up?”

Paul hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath. “Well, we’ve spent a lot of time together over the past few weeks, and I’ve really enjoyed it. I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime. Maybe catch a movie or just hang out, you know?”

I felt a surge of warmth at his words, a mixture of surprise and happiness. “Are you asking me out on a date?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light but unable to hide the excitement in my voice.

Paul’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he nodded, a hopeful smile on his lips. “Yeah, I guess I am. I’d really like to get to know you even better.”

I smiled back, feeling a flutter of excitement. “I’d like that too. It sounds like a lot of fun.”

Paul’s grin widened, and he let out a relieved laugh. “Great! I’ll figure out a time and place, and we can make plans. I promise not to drag you into any more bug-related band name discussions.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I’ll hold you to that. But seriously, I’m looking forward to it.”

As we gathered our belongings and headed toward the school entrance, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation for what was to come. The field trip had been an unforgettable experience, and now, with this new chapter beginning, I was eager to see where it would lead. The prospect of spending more time with Paul, exploring our growing connection, and creating new memories made the end of the trip feel like a new beginning.

Authors note: I initially intended on making this a series but I wasn’t sure if anybody would read it so please tell me if you are interested!!!

[mickiscoolerthanyou]

Hello folks! This is my smut page where I post from my wattpad page!

Most of these are beatlss smuts and smuts with each individual beatle.

By the way don't get mad at me but wattpad for some reason deleted every single one of my john lennon smuts so no john smut folks unless i get new requests!

If you have any requests PLEASE DM ME DO NOT COMMENT IT some people get uncomfortable seeing detailed comments like that in there so please be respectful of others and dm me!!!!!

[take-it-on-the-run]

And I Love Her

Sam Winchester x Reader

The reader and Dean are being tortured by Gordon Walker because of her relationship with Sam, and all they can do is hope he'll get there in time.

Word Count: 1.5k

Tags: Torture, graphic depictions of being cut into, descriptions of gore and severe bodily harm, Sam Winchester is out of character depending on who you ask

Characters: Sam Winchester, Reader, Dean Winchester, Gordon Walker

@ghostlyaccurate requested: "Hii! Can I request a Dean and/or Sam Winchester (sepperate) x fem! Reader set in season two, with an established relationship, where it's like when Gordon kidnaps Dean, but instead of just Dean he also kidnaps reader. (I can imagine if it's a Dean x reader Gordon uses reader to get Dean to not try anything, and if it's a Sam x reader Sam just going even more ballistic than he originally does in the show). Thank you!!"

Read it on AO3!

A/N: Beatles title. My first Sam fic! Honestly, it was really hard writing this one for some reason, and after five revisions I'm still not completely in love with it. Regardless, I hope you enjoy, and heed the warnings! Do not read if this will make you uncomfortable!

Sam Winchester Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist | Main Page Masterlist

Gordon stared blankly at the wall in front of him while you tugged at the ropes on your wrists. A bandana was tied tightly around your mouth that tasted like dirt and your own blood. Dean was tied up to the left of you in a similar state, and both of you were staring down Gordon like it would kill him.

Traps lined every entrance from the doors to every small crack in the wall. Sam was powerful, but you doubted he could break through solid brick. Grenades, tripwire, even a shotgun trap that looked like something straight out of a movie; Gordon wanted Sam dead at all costs.

You knew your boyfriend would come to you and Dean’s rescue, but damn was this cutting it close. Gordon had already tried his best with Dean, but when it was your turn, he took his sweet-ass time.

He punched you, kicked you, even spit on you. Now, you tried your best to not scream as he dragged a knife against the soft flesh between your neck and shoulder.

You failed.

Biting down on the bandana, a muffled scream ripped through your lungs. You tried focusing on Dean, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes which were spilling over with more tears than you thought were in your body.

You could feel your blood dripping down your back and your chest, slithering its way to the floor as Gordon wiped his blade with the rag in his back pocket. He wrenched your head to the side, forcing the fresh wound close and for more tears to streak down your face.

He repeated his process on you a few times.

Your arms.

Your hands.

Your legs.

Every time somehow hurt more than the last, the hunter pulling open your skin and snapping it back together like a rubber band. Your vision was spotty, but you held steadfast to the thought that your boyfriend would be here any minute to save the day like he always did.

Gordon took a step back, wiping sweat and blood from his face and arms. He looked down at you with a glare that you’ve held plenty of times for the less-than-human creatures in the world. You guessed that, in his eyes, you, Sam, and Dean, were held in a similar regard.

Snaps.

Taunts.

Cracks.

Screams.

All because you fell in love with someone born under a bad sign.

You didn’t regret meeting Sam. Kissing him, falling for him, even the idea of just having him in your life was enough for your mind to justify the situation you were in. It wasn’t his fault you were having your life drained out of you minute by minute, and you hoped he would be smart enough to know that.

“Sam’s going to be here any minute, you know. Gotta convince himself he’s the hero of this story, and I’m the big,” Gordon turned to you, knife in hand, “bad, evil dragon. But I’m not the one with demon blood, am I, Y/N?” He placed the edge of the blade against the bottom of your chin. You could feel the cold steel heavy against your skin, and any sudden move would surely spill even more of your blood.

Dean glared at Gordon, his face shades of purple and blue, which mirrored the pain you felt along your entire body. Gordon dug the knife into the bottom of your chin, piercing your skin ever so slightly, but not enough to fatally wound you. Your mind was trying hard to hold onto the cracks of reality that remained in your vision; the smell of the dingy house you were in, the feeling of the carpet making contact with your boots, anything that wouldn’t send your consciousness reeling over was enough of an anchor for you to hang onto.

Gordon walked away from the two of you, returning to his position of peering out one of the boarded-up windows in wait for Sam. You glanced at Dean, which granted you a glance back from him. His eyes were dry, but they held enough behind them to let you know what he was thinking. Sam was going to burst into this booby-trapped hellhole, and Dean could do nothing but blame himself.

It’s all your fault, really, a thought that smashed through what you knew was the truth said.

This isn’t any of our faults, you told it back, wanting to tell Dean the same. Sam wasn’t to blame for the two of you being taken, and neither of you was at fault for being used as bait; it all landed in the hands of the rogue hunter who deemed himself holier-than-thou.

Though you couldn’t see yourself, you knew you were starting to resemble a bloody pulp more than a human being. Dean could barely look your way for longer than a second, and deep cuts that surged whether you moved or not continued to scrape away at your consciousness.

Gordon disappeared, and as you tried to turn your head to follow him, you felt a burning pain across your chest. Highlighted by a spurt of blood splattering over your thighs, you wanted to vomit. The top of your head started to feel like it was being lifted off from the rest of your skull, and the black spots in your vision connected at the edges of your eyes.

You grunted, head going slack and opening wounds on the back of your neck. Either spit, blood, or bile dripped out of your mouth, but at that moment you didn’t care- the black at the corners of your eyes bled together, and all you could do was limply hope Sam would find you.

You blinked, slowly, noticing light creeping in from the boarded-up windows. The second thing you noticed was the searing pain in your body, coupled with grunting and what you could guess was a well-landed punch.

“Y/N!” Someone called out to you, but you could barely lift your head to meet their voice. The bandana in your mouth was pulled away and hands cupped your face, warming your skin that was ice cold after losing so much blood.

The hands left your face and moved to the ropes at your wrists, cutting them off quickly and placing your arms in your lap. You forced your eyes up high enough to see it was your hero, Sam, standing before you with tears starting to fill his eyes. If your face would’ve let your smile, you would’ve, but every movement flashed the memory of Gordon cutting into you.

Gordon.

“Where’s-” You managed to sputter out through a sore jaw and a severely dry mouth.

“Dead,” Sam answered coldly. For the first time, you noticed his knuckles were a hue of bright purple, complimented with blood splattering up his arm. Sam moved your arms around his neck and picked you up as gently as he could.

“Dean’s already in the car patching himself up. I’m going to try and lay you down in the back seat so we can get to the closest hospital. I left Gordon in the room by the first door, so keep your head to my chest if you don’t want to see him, okay?” He asked softly. The tears that were in his eyes had faded slightly, but you could see the emotions he’d no doubt try to hide later on. Regret, blame, guilt - the more he looked at you, the more you could sense that your battered state was tearing away at his consciousness. You wanted to reach out, hold his face, and tell him you’d be okay, you’d survived worse, that it wasn’t his fault, but your thoughts were halted by Sam stepping past Gordon’s body.

If you could call it a body, that is.

His nose was sunken into his face enough that his eyes were slightly popping out of their sockets. His mouth had more gums than teeth, which were scattered around the room. He was lying against a dresser, and his limbs were spread out in the wrong directions. You thought you saw a bone, but before you could look closer, Sam turned and shut the door behind you.

Sam laid you across the back seats of the Impala, trying his best to be gentle with the abhorrent number of cuts across your body. You couldn’t guess how the hospital wasn’t going to ask questions, but you hoped the brothers would figure that out. Your head laid in Sam’s lap, and he looked out the window as Dean buried Gordon.

“Sam,” you slowly moved one of your arms to his face, bringing his attention to you, “thank you. You saved us both. You had to do what you had to do.”

Sam smiled but still didn’t say a word as he dipped down and planted a gentle kiss on your forehead.

You wanted to be able to tell him everything your racing mind was coming up with but were beaten by the overwhelming need to not move. Dean climbed into the front seat, beating the gas pedal to the floor and hitting the highway as Sam ran his fingers comfortingly through your hair.

[withwritersblock]

Oh! Darling pt. 1

~Oh! Darling by The Beatles~

Author's Note: requested, it didn't fully fill the request as much as I wanted, I apologize but it's a long one :)italics are flashback as always. also insanely unedited I never edit anything I post so Summary: Quinn and Y/N have a suprise pregnancy Warnings: swearing, I think that's all Word Count: 6,236 Quinn Hughes x fm!reader

July

It was normal for her cycle to be inconsistent, ever since her first ever period she was inconsistent. It would be a week early, a week late, nothing more. Except right now she was a week and two days late. 

She wasn’t freaking out until Quinn came home with hot chocolate and a pack of tampons. It was normal for him to just casually buy the products for her. They’ve been together since they were fifteen years old, so of course it was a part of their routine. She moved to Vancouver with him his rookie year and they’ve never looked back. 

Here they were sitting on their bathroom floor together waiting for the two minute timer to go off. Her head was against her knees as he was staring blankly towards the floor. After a few scares they have had over the years, she’s kept a few pregnancy tests in their bathroom. They weren’t trying to get pregnant but after nine years together, they were becoming less and less careful.

She lifted her head, turning her gaze towards Quinn watching him count on his fingers. She furrowed her eyebrows harshly while taking in a sharp breath. “What are you doing?” she asked barely above a whisper.

He met her eye, before he had a chance to answer the timer went off. Quinn turned it off as he maintained eye contact. He took a deep breath, “Ready?” he asked barely above a whisper. She clenched her jaw as she continued looking into his gaze. She nodded very subtly and Quinn reached towards the counter. He took a hold of the test, keeping it face down. 

His hands were shaking, she glanced down and took a hold of his hand holding the pregnancy test. He took a deep breath as she slowly pulled her hand away, he spun it around. Clear as day, it wrote Pregnant. It was impossible to miss. A gasp left her throat. 

He lowered the test to the floor as a small smile formed to his lips, he shifted his gaze towards her. He saw the tears starting to fall from her eyes but the smile on her lips. “I didn’t think-” she trailed off while she turned and met his gaze. The smile on his lips and the nervous laughter that left his lips answered the question she had.

He leaned towards her wrapping his arms around her, he swallowed hard before he breathed out, “We’re having a baby.”

After a few seconds she pulled away, a harsh frown on her lips. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his hand delicately placed on her thigh.

“Oh god,” she muttered out, “The baby’s gonna be born right before playoffs, oh no,” she let out. Her breath began to quicken as she stood up from the floor. He watched her walk out of the bathroom. Quinn cleared his throat as he took a hold of the test, he stared towards the positive test. He took a deep breath as he stood up from the floor. He placed the test onto the counter as he followed her out of the bathroom.

“It’ll be fine, we’ll worry about it when it comes,” he expressed as found her pacing their bedroom. He stopped her by stepping in her path. He watched her lips quiver as she scanned his features. A smile formed onto his lips as he took a hold of her hips. “We’re having a baby,” he let out again as he looked deeply into her eyes. 

“We’re having a baby,” she repeated as she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck, he lifted her up as he spun her slowly. 

October

Their last appointment was too early to tell the sex of the baby and they didn’t want to make a huge deal on the reveal. It didn’t matter to them, they were going to be excited regardless. They were sitting in the lobby, praying that no one would recognize Quinn. They have yet to tell their families as they were worried it would be too early and something would go wrong.

It has been impossible not to say anything to his brothers. He speaks to Jack every day and it has almost slipped out of his mouth multiple times. When he did speak to Luke, he tried to leave him alone during his rookie year, he would nearly let it slip too. 

Y/N struggled to keep it quiet from her parents since she called them at least once a day. They would always ask about what’s new in her life but she managed to keep it secret. Her sister on the other hand is the only other person that knows. Her sister, Isabella, was visiting the following week after they found out.

It was too early to mention the pregnancy as she was barely seven weeks along, she found out quite late. She had no idea how she was going to manage to keep it a secret from her sister for five days. Y/N was working the morning Isabella had landed in Vancouver. Which led to Quinn being the one to go pick her up and bring her back to the apartment. Which they were planning on moving out of. 

Y/N always expressed how much she loved the apartment she was in. It was a one bedroom apartment with two bathrooms. It was perfect until they found out they were having a baby. They decided on moving into a bigger apartment suited for family life. It was evident that they were moving by the pile of boxes in the trunk of Quinn’s car and by the state of their apartment. 

Quinn spent the whole drive avoiding the topic of what the use of the second bedroom would be. He kept saying that they were starting to get more people to visit and that’s why they needed a second bedroom. However, Isabella was completely convinced that Y/N was pregnant. 

She was obviously right, but Quinn had explicit instructions to deny, deny, deny. Except Isabella was extremely nosey. Quinn was pulling out the coffee table, prepping the pull-out sofa for her to sleep on; when Isabella walked out of their bathroom.

“Are you going to keep lying to me or just tell me?” she questioned as she was holding the ziplock baggie that held two positive pregnancy tests. Quinn lifted his head, his mouth fell open. He chuckled dryly.

“You went through our drawers?” he let out a smirk on his lips. 

“I forgot a toothbrush,” she said as she shook the baggy, “I was looking for a spare one!” she defended. Quinn stood up from the floor as he walked towards Isabella.

“You know, Y/N’s gonna kill me,” he mumbled as he took the baggy from her hand. He stared towards it, an instant smile formed to his lips. “We were going to wait to tell anyone until it was further along in the pregnancy,” he explained. He lifted his gaze as he met Isabella’s eye. 

“How far long?” Isabella asked excitedly. 

“We don’t know yet, we have a doctor’s appointment in a couple days. We’ve only known for a week,” he explained as the front door opened. Y/N jogged inside excitedly. A frown instantly appeared to her lips seeing Quinn holding the pregnancy tests and her sister standing right there. His eyes widened, “She went snooping!” he accused, childishly pointing a finger towards Isabella. 

Isabella gasped as she smacked her hand lightly against Quinn’s arm.

Y/N rested her head nervously on Quinn’s shoulder. He leaned his head against her arm as he reached over and interlocked his hand with hers. “Isabella thinks we’re having a boy,” she whispered. He smiled softly as he ran his thumb across the top of her hand. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” he mumbled, “My mom gave up on having a girl after Lukey,” he let out a soft chuckle.

“My mom gave up on having a boy after Isabella,” she replied. 

Before Quinn could reply the ultrasound tech stepped into the lobby with a clipboard in her hand. “Y/N Y/L/N.” the tech lifted her gaze to see Quinn sitting down. Her eyes widened slightly at that moment. 

Y/N perked upward as her and Quinn both stood up and walked side by side to the back of the office. It took ten minutes before she was on the table, awaiting the freezing gel and the results of the scan. Quinn sat closely to her as he scanned her features. Y/N was staring towards the empty ultrasound screen as the gel was placed on her skin.

Quinn delicately leaned closer as the screen lit up, showing the gray image of the growing baby. The ultrasound tech smiled excitedly as she pointed towards the screen, “That’s your baby,” she said pointing a manicured finger along the outline of the baby. 

Quinn smiled softly as he felt his breath caught in his throat. Your baby. It was still so hard to believe. Y/N kept a small smile as she watched the screen, her heart was beating quickly. It was getting more real every appointment. 

Quinn squeezed Y/N’s hand, she shifted her gaze towards him. He winked towards her as she shifted her gaze back towards the screen. 

It took another ten minutes before the doctor came in. He quickly sat down, rubbing hand sanitizer all over his hands as he smiled towards the pair. 

“We’re just going to do a general check-up on how the baby is doing and are we finding out the sex of the baby today as well?” he asked. They both nodded excitedly. Y/N was always super nervous every time she was at the appointment. “Alright,” he let out as he pulled gloves on his hands as he rolled closer to the table. 

Y/N held her breath as the doctor put more of the gel onto her growing bump. It took a few seconds before the screen popped up as the doctor rolled the wand over her stomach. It was silent as they stared towards the screen together. Quinn squeezed her hand as he shifted his gaze towards Y/N. He loved the joy on her face.

“Alright, healthy heartbeat. Healthy size for eighteen weeks and now I’m gonna check for the sex of the baby,” the doctor said while raising his eyebrows. Y/N held her breath as she tried to see what the doctor was seeing. Quinn kept his gaze on Y/N.

“Congratulations you are having a girl,” the doctor said as he shifted his gaze towards the pair. Quinn’s mouth fell open as a nervous laugh left his lips. Y/N pouted her lips as she began to tear up. She turned her head to meet Quinn’s gaze. The doctor quickly wiped the gel from her stomach, “We’ve got a few paperwork things that we have to file, but you guys will be out of here in a moment,” he said before he stepped out of the room.

Once they were alone, Quinn leaned towards her kissing her. He rested his hand onto her cheek, “Oh my god,” he mumbled against her lips.

~

It was becoming too real and too hard to keep secret from their families. They wanted to wait until his brothers and parents would be in town for the Hughes Bowl but it would be way too long by then. 

Telling them over FaceTime was not ideal but they lived in a whole different country and timezone from their families. Y/N’s parents fell in love with Quinn the second she brought him home. Her mom was asking about baby names the second they moved in together. Her dad also loved Quinn because he didn’t have any sons of his own. In a way over the last nine years, he learned to love Quinn like a son.

“Why can’t we just wait until Christmas?” Y/N let out nervously. Quinn took a hold of the chair and pulled it closer to him, he shifted his frame to face her. He rested his hands onto her thighs.

“I think our parents would be sad that we didn’t tell them sooner, You’ll be-what- almost thirty weeks? They’ll be happy no matter how we tell them,” he comforted. She tilted her head to the side as she frowned slightly. 

“I can’t hug my mom after telling her,” she mumbled. Quinn pouted as he ran his hand across the fabric of her pants. 

“I know but they are all coming for Christmas, you can see her then,” he muttered, trying to be comforting but it was a difficult situation. His laptop began ringing, alerting them of a FaceTime call from her mother. He leaned towards her delicately kissing her cheek before he answered the FaceTime.

Tilted her head back, swallowing hard. “Hi guys! What’s going on?” her mother said excitedly. Her dad was standing behind her mother, resting his hands on the back of the chair. Her mother’s face fell, “Oh no, what’s wrong?” 

“Oh nothing, we’re okay-great actually,” Quinn explained, knowing that Y/N was a bit paralyzed to speak. Her mother quite literally let out a sigh of relief. Quinn soothingly ran his hand up and down her lower back. He turned his gaze towards her and she kept staring blankly towards the screen. “Honey,” he whispered. 

She blinked rapidly as she looked deeply into his eyes for a few seconds before she looked back towards the computer. Her mouth opened and shut for a few seconds before she met her mom’s gaze through the computer. She knew, she had to know already. 

“We’re having a baby,” Y/N blurted out. 

Her mother simply smiled as she began to cry, happily. Her dad leaned away from his grip on the chair. A smile on his face, he walked away. “Wow,” her mother let out. 

Quinn pulled his lips between his teeth as he held his breath.

“How far long?” her mother questioned. Y/N’s lips quivered.

“Eighteen weeks, we wanted to wait until it was safer to say anything,” 

“Oh of course, honey, this is incredible news!”  her mother expressed as she covered her mouth with her hands. She stood up and turned around and hugged her husband. Y/N looked towards Quinn, teary eyed. 

“Does Bella know?” her father asked as he walked towards the camera, his eyes were teary. She’s never seen her father cry, let alone happy tears. 

Quinn started laughing nervously. “Isabella had a hunch when she came to visit and snooped around our apartment until she found proof,” Y/N explained as she stared towards the camera. 

Her dad rolled his eyes, “Of course she did!” 

They spoke on the phone for several more minutes, leaving out the sex of the baby. They still wanted to have a little announcement during Christmas. It was now Quinn’s turn and he was terrified. His parents loved Y/N and were happy that Quinn was happy. They probably would prefer they waited until they were married. But that was still a year or so down the line, too late now. Y/N didn’t want to get married until she was done with her degrees, she wanted her degrees to have her own last name. She wanted to take Quinn’s last name but she wanted her degrees to have her own name.

He took a hold of her chin, as they waited for his parents to call him. He turned her head towards him. He scanned her features before he leaned towards her, kissing her urgently. 

“What was that?” she asked barely above a whisper as he pulled away. The laptop started to ring as his mother was calling him. He took a deep breath before he pecked her lips once more.

“Courage,” he muttered before he answered the call. He forced a smile towards the camera, Y/N smiled softly as she looped her arm around Quinn’s. She ran her fingertips along the inside of his palm. “Hi,” Quinn muttered out.

“You guys okay? This looks like a Zoom meeting,” Ellen let out, a small chuckle leaving her lips. Quinn let out a huff of air as he smiled.

“We’re really good, actually,” he mumbled. Y/N kept her gaze on Quinn, giving him encouragement. He swallowed hard as he took a deep breath. 

“Then what’s going on?” she asked, a small smile on her lips. Jim nodded encouragingly as if he knew what the news was.

Quinn looked towards Y/N, she interlocked their fingers together as she nodded. “We’re having a baby,” he choked out as he shifted his gaze towards the screen. His parents' eyes went wide as they looked towards one another. “And we’re happy about it,” Quinn continued as he pressed his lips together.

Ellen quickly shifted her gaze towards her phone, a slow grin forming to her lips, “Why wouldn’t you be? This is amazing!” she let out before she set her phone down, turning and hugging Jim. He laughed excitedly.

“We’re having a grandbaby!” Jim let out excitedly.

Quinn shut his eyes as he let out a sigh of relief. Y/N tilted her head as she rested it onto Quinn’s shoulder. He leaned and kissed the top of her head as he shifted his gaze towards the screen. 

“This is incredible, son,” Jim let out, “Have you told your brothers?” he questioned.

Quinn shook his head, “They are next on the list,” he mumbled. 

They spoke on the phone for several more minutes before Quinn ended the call, afraid his father would tell his brothers before he got the chance to. Jack and Luke tend to ignore text messages so Quinn decided to simply call them and hope both of them were home. 

“I’m a little shocked at how well this is going,” Y/N mumbled as she ran her hand through the ends of his hair while he turned his gaze towards her. “I just thought there would’ve been a lecture alongside the happiness,” she said with a dry laugh. Quinn rolled his eyes playfully.

“I was expecting the get married before the baby comes lecture,” he let out. She nodded along with him. “It’s still a little hard to believe that this is actually happening,” he expressed. She nodded as she rested her hand on her stomach. 

“I know,” she mumbled, “She’s growing inside of me and I still feel like it isn’t real,” she let out. He smiled as he leaned towards her kissing her. She pulled away, resting her forehead against his, “Come on let’s tell your brothers,” she whispered.

He took a deep breath as he began calling Jack, who was more likely to pick up over Luke. Jack answered on the fourth ring. “Quinny!” he shouted in a long drawn out sing-song way. “What’s wrong? Oh shit, you guys didn’t break up did you?” Jack questioned as he sat up from his lying position on the couch.

“No, nothing like that. Is Luke home?” Quinn asked as he rested his hand on Y/N’s thigh. 

“Lukey! Luke, come here!” Jack shouted. “He’s in his room,” he muttered. 

“What?!” Luke asked, his voice rasped as he walked out of the room. 

“Quinn and Y/N want to talk to us,” Jack expressed. Luke groaned as he stood behind Jack, getting into the view of the camera. His hair was messy as he was hidden in a hoodie. 

“If you woke me up from my nap to tell me that you two are engaged then I’ll fucking kill you,” Luke rasped out as he leaned forward. Y/N laughed as she tilted her head back. Quinn rolled his eyes. 

“See I thought they were telling us they broke up, he looked like he saw a ghost,” Jack tilted his head back as he met Luke’s gaze briefly.

“He always looks like that,” Luke pointed towards the screen. Quinn dropped his head as he rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Okay, okay will you stop?” Quinn said while laughing. “We’re not engaged, we’re not breaking up. We’re-uh-” he paused as he met Y/N’s gaze for a second, “We’re having a baby,” 

Jack’s mouth fell open as his eyes widened. Luke smiled widely as he leaned back, “See now that’s a reason to wake a man up,” he let out while laughing. “How long have you been keeping that a secret?” Luke questioned further. 

“Since July,” Y/N let out. 

“Quinn sucks at keeping secrets, how did you guys manage not to tell anyone?” Jack asked, laughing. 

“How many times did I call you guys over the last few months?” Quinn let out laughing, “What like three times? That’s how I kept it a secret,” 

“Can’t wait to be the cool uncle,” Luke muttered as he crossed his arms over his chest. Jack gasped dramatically. 

“Yeah, right, that’s my job,” Jack scoffed. Quinn turned his gaze towards Y/N, rolling his eyes. 

“What do you mean? You’re boring, man. That kid's gonna love Uncle Luke,” he said while pursing his lips forward.

“Oh please! I’m boring?! Have you heard anything come out of your mouth recently!” 

“Quinn, who’s gonna be the cool uncle?” Luke asked as he leaned towards the camera.

“You can’t ask Quinn that, he’s biased, he likes you better than me,” Jack protested, “Y/N who’s the better, more handsome, more cool uncle?” 

Y/N barked out a laugh, “I’m not answering that,” she rolled her eyes playfully, “We’ll let our baby decide who she likes better,” she paused, her eyes widened. Quinn shifted his gaze towards Y/N. 

“No way, it's a girl?!” Luke asked excitedly.

“You didn’t hear that!” Quinn quickly let out. Luke shook his head while laughing. “Mom and Dad don’t know that part yet, you didn’t hear anything. Keep it to yourselves,” Quinn expressed as he kept his gaze on Y/N. She was on the verge of tears, with her pregnancy her hormones have been all over the place. Which led to her being more emotional than normal.

“Mom’s going to freak the fuck out,” Jack let out excitedly.

March

It was early, their daughter was coming two weeks early. Her parents were planning on flying in next week but here she was in the passenger seat of her best friend’s car, feeling as though she was about to give birth any minute. Which was entirely not true. Her water broke but she was nowhere near dilated where she needed to be. Her doctor told her to come in anyway since she was a little early before the due date. 

She wasn’t quite sure on how to contact Quinn, he was in the middle of a game. Quinn gave her the equipment manager’s number in case something like this happened. She wanted to wait until she was at the hospital and actually admitted. 

Riley, her best friend, parked the car as close to the entrance of the hospital as she could. She turned her body towards her. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell Quinn right now? It’s intermission, he can be here in like thirty minutes,” she offered, Y/N shook her head as she rested her hand on her large bump. A contraction started as she tilted her head back against the headrest. “Oh god that was like only seven minutes, I feel like that was fast. You should call him,” she expressed.

“Nope, not until I am in a bed,” she groaned as she unbuckled her seatbelt as she pushed the car door open. She carefully climbed out of the car, “This little girl can wait until her daddy is showered and done with his g-game,” she muttered as she started waddling towards the entrance of the hospital. 

Riley quickly jumped out of the car and took a hold of the hospital bag. Locking the car she jogged towards Y/N. “Damn, you’re fast for a pregnant girl,” she muttered as she came side by side with her.

“I ran track in high school, what do you expect?” she mumbled out. Her phone began to vibrate in her pocket, it was her mom. She took a sharp breath as she brought her phone to her ear, “Hey Mom,”

“Hi sweetheart, how’s the baby?” her mother asked. She’s gotten to the point where every question is directed towards and about the baby. 

“Actually my water broke and I’m at the hospital-” she let out, her mother gasped dramatically, “Quinn doesn’t know, he’s still playing-” she gasped again. 

“There are no flights to Vancouver at this hour! Oh god-” her mother let out, teary-eyed.

“It’s okay, I promise we’ll be fine, I’ll call you and keep y-oh god-you posted,” 

It had been only ten minutes before Y/N was placed in a room. She had simply sat down when Riley turned on the TV in the room, it showed the Canucks game. They were winning 4-o as they showed a goal that Quinn assisted on. “It’s safe to say that Quinn can leave the game,” Riley pointed towards the TV. 

Y/N texted the equipment manager, alerting him of the situation. After a few seconds, the broadcast announced, “It looks like Quinn Hughes is not on the bench, once we get more information on that, we’ll let you know,” the camera showed the equipment manager talking with Quinn and him nodding. 

He stared blankly towards the ice in front of him. He took a sharp breath as Tyler beside him nudged him excitedly. Quinn smiled as he spun off the bench and headed down the tunnel. 

Y/N stood up from the bed as she walked towards the bathroom, carrying her required hospital gown she had to wear. She struggled to get her shirt and sweatpants off as another contraction was hitting her pretty hard. Another minute went by and she was completely covered in the hospital gown. 

“They’re doing good, she wanted to wait until she had a room. She didn’t want to get turned away and then having you leave the game for no reason,” Riley explained on the phone. Y/N smiled towards Riley as she waddled out of the bathroom, “Here she is,” Riley mumbled as she handed the phone over to Y/N.

“Hey?! You alright? I’m showering real fast and I’ll be there or-or I can just leave now,” Quinn ranted, he sounded out of breath. 

“I love you, I love you so much, please shower before you get here,” she said while laughing. Riley helped her sit down on the bed. Quinn laughed, “We’re good, we’re just waiting on the doctor, I have to call your parents before the broadcasters announce it,” she explained.

“Okay, yeah, yeah do that. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he explained, “I love you,” he let out before he hung up the phone. She quickly dialed Ellen. She answered on the second ring.

“Is everything okay? Is the baby okay?” Ellen asked instantly. Y/N let out breath she was holding as she got comfortable on the bed, or at least as comfortable she could get. 

“I’m in labor, but everything seems to be fine,” she explained, slightly out of breath. 

“Oh my god, okay, we’ll try to get to Vancouver as soon as we can,” she expressed, “This is so exciting!” she expressed. 

She shifted her gaze towards the screen, “It looks like Quinn Hughes is okay, great news actually. He had to leave the game early because he’s having a baby. Congratulations Captain!” the broadcasters announced. Y/N felt her heart beat as the words echoed in her mind. 

“How are you doing?” she asked, a sob quickly climbed into Y/N’s throat. 

She took in a sharp shaky breath as she looked towards Riley, a tear quickly fell on her cheek. “Terrified,” she mumbled out as her lips quivered.

“Oh honey, it’ll be okay. Quinn will be there with you soon, Your parents will be there. Jim and I will be there. You’re not alone, you guys are going to be okay,” Ellen comforted. Y/N nodded as her lower lip quivered. 

“O-okay,” she let out. 

“We love you, Y/N,” Ellen expressed. 

“Love you guys too,” she let out before they ended the call. Riley quickly came to her side. Riley rested her hand on top of Y/N’s.

It took another forty-five minutes before Quinn jogged into the room. “Hey, I’m here, are you okay?” he asked as he quickly went straight to her bedside. She was gripping the side of the hospital bed.

“Yeah, I’m good-” she held her breath. Quinn looked towards Riley. 

“The doctor said she’s about five centimeters dilated and that her contractions are getting stronger,” Riley said as she crossed her arms over her chest. Quinn smiled gratefully towards her. They didn’t discuss if Riley was allowed to be there but that was because it wasn’t a discussion. Riley and Y/N have been best friends since they were freshman in high school.

Riley moved to Vancouver after she graduated college, partly for Y/N and her job market. 

“What can I do?” he asked Y/N as she slowly loosened her grip and opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. She took a deep breath as her lips quivered. 

“Hold me,” she let out barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” he quickly climbed beside her inside the bed, not a single ounce of hesitation. He adjusted carefully not to lie on any wires or in any way that could mess up anything. He pressed his lips against her forehead as he looped his arms around her body, letting her snuggle up against him.

Riley smiled softly as she walked out of the room, giving them their privacy for a while. 

He ran his fingers through her hair soothingly, as he periodically pressed his lips against her forehead.

It took twelve hours. 

Twelve hours before their daughter was born. Both of their parents were able to be there. Not in the room, but they were there for emotional support. On March 10th at 9:37 AM, their daughter was born. 

It was only her and Quinn in the room with all of the doctors and nurses. Their daughter screamed loudly after she was born. She was placed on Y/N’s chest. She was shaking from adrenaline but the second her eyes landed on her daughter it felt like everything was right. 

The second she was laid on Y/N’s chest, she had stopped crying. Stirring slightly as Quinn delicately and nervously ran his hand along the small head of his daughter. 

It took about an hour after the birth before Quinn even left the room. Y/N was asleep, reluctantly but her body craved it. Their daughter was asleep in the small hospital bed they provided for her. Quinn walked into the lobby to see his parents and her parents. He smiled widely once he met his mom’s eyes. 

“She’s here,” he muttered out. Ellen stood up and instantly hugged her son. They all excitedly shot up from their seats. “I was waiting until they fell asleep, Y/N’s exhausted,” he mumbled as he pulled away. He began cycling through hugs between each person. 

“How are you doing?” Y/N’s mom asked. Quinn shook his head slowly as he let out a long breath. 

“I’m just happy,” he said as he crossed his arms over his chest, “Tired but my girls are more important,” he let out. 

Jim engulfed his son in a huge hug. “So proud of you,” he mumbled into his ear. Quinn pulled away as he pressed his lips together. 

“Do you guys have a name?” Y/N’s dad asked. Quinn smiled widely as he nodded. 

“Elliana, we’re going to call her Ellie,” he explained. 

“Oh your brothers are calling!” Ellen said excitedly. She handed her phone over to Quinn quickly. Quinn answered the call. Both Jack and Luke were fighting for more of the camera view. Their eyes lit up once they saw Quinn.

“Can we call you Daddy yet?!” Jack let out. The entire room started laughing, even people who didn't know the family started laughing.

“Please don’t,” he let out, shaking his head. “But yes, your niece is here,” he explained. Both Luke and Jack smiled widely.

“Oh man that’s amazing,” Luke let out, his voice breaking. 

“Are you crying?” Jack asked. Luke shook his head while tilting his head back.

“We’ve got a tiny little niece, dude, this is crazy. We can’t even meet her for a while,” Luke let out. Quinn pouted, sad that his brother’s weren’t able to come see him and his beautiful little girl. 

“The second the season is done, you boys are coming to meet her,” Quinn said teary eyed.

May

Quinn was exhausted to say the least but he would never change a single thing. His parents and Y/N’s parents were staying at an AirBnB close by to help with the baby when Quinn was away on road games. 

Jack was back in Michigan recovering from his surgery while Luke was away on the Men’s World’s tournament. It didn’t stop either of them from calling Y/N every day to see their niece. Neither of them have been able to meet her yet, it was tearing them apart.

“How has it been with playoffs and having a newborn at home?” the interviewer asked. Quinn's eyes lit up at the mention of his daughter. 

“It’s been a lot. I would love to be home with her every chance I could get but unfortunately that’s just not how the timing panned out,” he let out a dry chuckle, “She’s still so tiny so it breaks my heart that I can’t be with her all the time. But hopefully things go our way and it’ll all be worth it,” he explained. 

“Thanks Quinn,” they all collectively said as they walked away from him with their microphones. Quinn stood up quickly as he began walking out of the locker room, his mind preoccupied with seeing his little girl. 

It was hard to manage focusing on the playoffs and the fact that he was a new father. But Y/N was so strong through the whole process. 

He drove home quickly. He was fast out of his car and into his apartment building. He cautiously stepped inside, not wanting to wake her if she was asleep. Y/N was sitting on the couch, folding some laundry. “Hey gorgeous,” he mumbled as he quietly locked the door. She smiled towards him as she lifted her gaze. 

“Hey captain, how was morning skate?” she asked teasingly. He rolled his eyes playfully as he walked towards the couch and sat down directly behind her. He looped his arm around her waist, pulling her towards him.

“It was good, nothing too crazy,” he whispered as he pressed his lips on her jawline. She giggled as she leaned her body against his chest. “How are you, my love?” he asked as he ran his hand across her stomach. 

“I’m okay, napped for a bit while your mom and dad were here this morning, Ellie is still sleeping. I feel like your mom has some magic touch or something,” she explained as she ran her hand across the top of his. 

He chuckled as he pressed his lips against her shoulder, “If you want to sleep longer, I can do this while you go sleep,” he offered. 

She shook her head as she tilted her head back against his shoulder. “Nope, this is perfect. I miss you,” she mumbled. She tilted her head to the side as Quinn tilted his gaze towards her. He scanned her features, knowing she was exhausted but listened regardless. He leaned towards her, kissing her urgently. He took a hold of her cheek, holding her in place.

Suddenly the baby monitor sounded, Ellie was crying. She pulled away chuckling, “She always has perfect timing,” she mumbled against his lips. He pecked her lips quickly before he slipped away from his grasp on Y/N.

“She does, doesn’t she?” he let out, “I got her,” he mumbled before he wandered down the hall towards the nursery. He slowly pushed inside the room, the loud cries quite literally making his heart break. “Oh darling, it’s okay,” Quinn let out quietly as he walked towards the crib, slowly reaching down and picking her up. As soon as Quinn held her, she was soothed. 

Quinn smiled towards his little girl, admiring the light color eyes and soft sound of her breathing. “You just wanted attention, huh?” he let out as he slowly walked towards the rocking chair. He cautiously sat down, staring into his little girl’s eyes. “That’s okay, Momma can wait,” he whispered, a soft laugh leaving his throat. 

He slowly continued rocking in the chair, staring down at his little girl. She looked a lot like Y/N but she had his eyes. She was beautiful. “Quinn,” Y/N mumbled from the door. Quinn lifted his gaze, smiling softly towards her. Oblivious to Y/N standing there, he had no idea how long she was there.

“Hi gorgeous,” he whispered. She grinned as she tilted her head against the door frame, “We did a good job, didn’t we?” he asked, shifting his gaze back to his little girl.

[cookiescribble]

spencer x british!reader

as a brit i would love to see a fic of a reader with a british accent and spencer adores it and mimics her sometimes

Taking It In (Spencer Reid x British Fem!Reader)

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! This is a bit of a team effort because I’m a bit more knowledgeable about British culture (in no means an expert, I just had a hyperfixation on the Beatles and Doctor Who in middle school/ high school lmao) but Mod Angel is usually the one who writes for fem!readers. Also, we’re both American so we hope this is what you wanted! Sorry for the little wait - Mod Ghost

We also just binged season 2 of Heartstopper and tried our best to pick up on some of the language because we thought this was a really cute idea and wanted to write it as best we could! - Mod Angel

~~~

“Coffee? I thought that people from the UK drank tea?” Spencer piped up from behind as his girlfriend was pouring coffee into one of the paper cups she’d found around the canteen. 

“It heavily depends on who you’re talking to, Spencer. I feel you should know just as well as I do that everyone’s different. You didn’t profile me as soon as we started dating?” Y/N joked, to which he looked puzzled.

“Wha–no, I usually try to keep my job separate from…personal relations.” He replied sheepishly, starting to mix up his own mug of coffee. 

“That changed when we started dating, didn’t it, love?” She teased him, patting his shoulder.

It made him blush and stutter like mad, his hands waving around as he tried to scramble to find something to say. It was rare to see him speechless, but she couldn’t help but to smirk as she watched him struggle. It only lasted a few more seconds before she cut him off, reaching out and gently touching his hand.

“It’s alright, I was just being cheeky, that’s all. C’mon, let’s go back to workin’ on the case, okay?” She chuckled, leading him away from the counter with the hand that wasn’t holding her coffee resting at the small of his back as they walked. 

“I knew that!” He squealed in his own defense, which made her giggle loudly. 

*

A few weeks later, the BAU were out to dinner, taking a small break while in the middle of a case. Though, it wasn’t much of a break, considering they were still talking about the profile.

Spencer pointed to a plate in the middle of the table. “Can I have a chip?”

A confused silence fell over the table as they all looked in his direction. Spencer stared back at them, an eyebrow raised in his own confusion.

“What?” Spencer asked finally, breaking the silence.

“What did you just say?” JJ responded with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“I asked if you could pass me a chip” he answered, pointing to the plate again.

“Where do you see chips?” Hotch chimed in, concerned for his mental stability. 

Still confused, Spencer pointed to the plate again.

“The fries?” Penelope clarified, gesturing to the same plate finally. 

“Oh.” He nodded awkwardly. “Yeah, can you pass me a fry?”

“You’re really spending too much time with that girlfriend of yours, aren’t you?” Morgan teased, grinning and playfully nudging his shoulder.

He smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said in a faux-English accent as he finally got the ‘chip’ he wanted as the rest of the table laughed. 

“Speaking of Y/N, where is she tonight?? I miss that girl.” Garcia complained from the other side of the table, 

“Oh, she went out with one of her mates–” Spencer started before Prentiss cut him off from where she was sat next to him, 

“Mates??” She asked incredulously, seconds away from giggling as he groaned and leaned back in his chair. 

“FRIENDS! Her friends.” he grumbled, finishing his food and making a mental note to not only tell but blame his girlfriend, Y/N, for everything he’d been through tonight. Not before giving her a kiss, though. The fact that she wasn’t here just made him realize how much he missed her, and it made him wonder if there was a correlation between missing her and talking like her.

The girls dropped him off at home a few hours later, where the first thing he said when he saw Y/N was ‘this is your fault’.

“Do you…want to elaborate on that or…?”

“Later.” Was all he said before he was hugging her and burying his head in her shoulder. 

She tugged him close, feeling him start breathing deeply against her shoulder as if he was falling asleep and tapped him to wake him up a bit so she could start leading him to their room. “Come along, darling, let’s get you into bed. You seem tired.” 

“I know that they’re fries but you say chips…it’s cute…” he mumbled as he walked, only adding to the confusion but she chalked it up to him being tired from a long day and let it go for now as she tucked him in with a smile at how cute he was. 

[cherry-velvet-skies]

Within You, Without You (18+)

George Harrison × GN!Reader

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, all the things

Warnings: A very short sex scene, power play if you squint, slight nipple play, convos about insecurities and low self confidence and stuff like that

Words: 3.2k

Summary: 1967 era; You need to find a way to relax, and George offers to be your guide through tantral meditation

T/N: Domine- Latin for master; used from a place of utmost respect

===================================

==============================

You had tried everything. Anything that would help to decrease your stress levels. These past few weeks had been tough on you, and all you wanted was for your brain to quiet down for a bit. But nothing seemed to work, no matter how hard you tried. So, you thought of the only thing that even had a shot at clearing your head: meditation. And lucky for you, you had just the person to teach you.

For someone with his level of experience, George was very well versed in the art of meditation. He had been given the tools to get to a place where he was comfortable practicing on his own, and that was really all there was to it. And he was more than happy to pass on any amount of his knowledge to you.

"Most people start out in the position you see most often, which is sitting on the floor with your legs crossed." George instructed as he sat down next to you, demonstrating the position. You couldn't help but stare at the wide variety of decor placed throughout the room. George had a specific room that he would go only to meditate. Apparently, having a designated space is supposed to enhance your chances of successful meditation.

You had half expected the room to be devoid of color, but it was quite the opposite. It looked as though all the wonderful colors of the rainbow had performed an interpretive dance across the walls, twirling and swinging about in perfect harmony. This was not the environment you had in mind.

"I always thought meditation was supposed to be about clearing your mind." You stated. "That's why most yoga studios are painted white." George gave you a confused stare.

"Meditation is about clearing your mind of negative energy. Not blanking it out completely." He replied, smoothing out the carpet fibers beneath his feet. "Meditating in a completely white room is not going to help you at all. You should be surrounded by things that are going to positively stimulate your brain." He looked around for a moment, admiring his own decor before turning back to you. "Although positive stimulation looks different for everyone, an assortment of colors is the most natural form of it."

“So is meditation always done this way?” You questioned, honestly having no clue where to start. George always had so much knowledge to share, and it wasn’t that you had no interest in meditation. You often felt that it wouldn’t work for you, but realized that you would never know if you never tried.

“This practice is the best entry to meditation. But once it comes more naturally to you, you can do it from anywhere at any time,” George explained, “To reach an optimal mental state for meditation, it does take much more than to sit cross-legged and close your eyes. It’s about reaching an internal piece, which would then translate to the physical body. However, the key is to start small.” He motioned towards several fluffy pillows on the floor beside him. “If the floor is too hard, you can use one of these.”

“And by doing this, I'll just…feel better?” You asked, getting comfy on one of the pillows. There were several colors, the one you chose being a soft orange.

“Well, not exactly.” George chuckled, He was always so patient. “You have to incorporate your mind as well. Like I said, clearing your mind means clearing negative energy. The best way to do that is to think of a place that brings you comfort and imagine that you’re there. To get in touch with both your mind and your body.”

You sighed. That was always your problem. You felt like you were too much in your own head and needed an escape. How were you supposed to be one with your mind if you didn’t even want to be in there in the first place?

“I just know what’s going to happen,” You whined, “I’m gonna get frustrated and it’ll have the opposite effect on me.”

George blinked at you, pursing his lips. “Can you at least try, love?” He offered, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here if you need me.”

You couldn’t help but smile. George’s genuine desire to help you truly did make things easier, but it was your stubborn brain that wouldn’t put in the effort. It technically wasn’t entirely your fault, but it was hell to live with. But George was right. Not trying meant shutting out the possibility of finding a solution. He didn’t want you to do it just to please him. He wanted you to want to do it. To do it for yourself.

“Alright.’ You said, exhaling sharply. “I’ll try.”

George smiled warmly, adorable fangs on full display. He didn’t have to do much to help you get ready as you were already in position. He stood off to the side, waiting to begin his part of the process as you settled into a comfortable zone. You did everything he said. Crossing your legs, closing your eyes, and relaxing into a decompressing posture. You drew in a deep breath, exhaling and trying your hardest to release any tension along with it.

After you closed your eyes, you felt George continue to stand around you, assessing your method of choice. You decided to go with the traditional method, despite your earlier qualms about its lack of stimulation. You figured that maybe less was more, and that by trying to calm your body down to an optimal level, you would achieve your desired outcome. But of course, without fail, once you tried to focus on finding a sense of tranquility, your thoughts took over and you were back where you started.

“I can’t…” You said shakily. “I can’t do it.’ You still hadn’t opened your eyes, because you knew if you did, there would be no stopping the flow of tears.

“Perhaps you need something else to focus on.” George replied, standing behind you now. He placed his hands on your shoulders and waited there for a moment. You didn’t tense up or try to move away, so he proceeded. He slid his fingers up and down your neck, gently squeezing your muscles as he went. You still kept your eyes closed, but furrowed your brows in confusion. To you, this seemed like the most inopportune time for a shoulder massage, but refused to object. You trusted that George knew what he was doing to some degree.

“Think of yourself as if you were facing them directly.” He announced, implementing a new kind of tactic, “Give them advice on how to achieve your goal right now.”

“George, what are you doing?” You interrupted, “How is this supposed to make me relax for meditation? The last thing I want to be thinking about is how I view myself.” George removed his right hand from your shoulder and placed his index finger at the base of your head, slowly tracing down your spine. You shivered, feeling like electricity was flowing through your body. “How did you do that?” You whispered, a slightly shudder moving through your voice as you spoke. “Why did I feel that?”

“We often find it hard to look within ourselves for answers, especially if we feel we aren’t qualified to give them. The vision of speaking to someone else helps to translate that motivation into an exterior perspective.” Classic George. You ask him a simple question and he gives you the secrets of life.

“Okay…” You breathed, “But when I look at myself, all I do is criticize them, whether it’s a mirror or a clone.” You were close to giving up, and it was clear George was running out of options. He remained stationary, his hands never leaving your shoulders. He sighed, thinking for a moment before making any sudden movements.

Mere seconds later, George resumed his shoulder massage, but instead of maintaining his posture, he bent down, mouth level with your ear. His voice was not above a whisper, his tone dripping with a new and improved delightful idea.

“Tell me how to help you, my Domine…”

You froze. This was the only thing that actually got you to sit up straight. You opened your eyes and turned to look at George only for him to shush you and turn your head back to stare at the wall in front of you. He kept his left hand cupped around your jaw, making sure you didn’t move it again, but there was no discipline. His grip was quite loose. You ideally could’ve gotten up and walked out if you truly wanted to. He wasn’t keeping you there.

“You know latin?” You mumbled, still perplexed at his new name for you.

George chuckled. “I know many things. All are useful at some time or another.” He pressed into your shoulders, his smile growing as you released some tension in the form of a strained whimper. He leaned to your ear again.

“If you can’t tell yourself what to do…tell me instead.”

You froze, but your following response was done with no hesitation. It was methodic. Robotic, almost. You adjusted your posture, locking into your newfound confidence.

“Make me feel good.” You whispered, knowing no additional details were needed. George went straight to work, placing his fingers at the back of your neck, towards the base of your skull. “Make me feel that sensation again.” You added, not knowing how to describe it but already feeling addicted. You wished it could flow through your body on command, giving you a boost at any time of day. You pretended as if you were alone, eyes closed and rhythmic breathing as his hands explored your body. A small sigh left George’s lips, exhaling a small puff of air onto your lower back while his fingers wisped across your spine. Every touch felt like a feather, as if he was there but he wasn’t. He truly gave you the illusion of peaceful solitude, merely being an assisting spirit to guide you in your journey of inward and outward reflection.

“Move to the front.” You announced, and George stopped in his tracks. Your initial reaction was to withdraw, fearing you sounded too demanding. Too commanding. Too strong. But you remained stationary, awaiting your lover’s next move. You heard him shuffle, and the new shadow in front of you, changing the amount of natural light billowing onto your body gave you the confirmation that your orders had been followed. George inhaled another long breath, ostensibly entering his own corresponding headspace.

“All I wish is to please you, my dear.”

Your body gave into the scene, falling back onto your palms while still keeping your legs crossed. You arched your back, pushing your chest towards him, giving him a compensatory level of control in this otherwise hierarchical situation. After a while, George began to drift off as well, taking in the sensation across your torso as he massaged your chest and pressed small kisses across your shoulders. You didn’t expect him to take to this so easily, but it seemed like second nature to the two of you. Perhaps it was always meant to be this way.

What mostly came to your surprise was when George’s fingers brushed over your nipples through your shirt, causing your hips to jolt involuntarily. You still weren’t sure if that was intentional or not, but there was certainly an additional advantage. He was testing you, waiting to see if it was what you wanted. Technically, you had complete control over what he would do next, yet he knew that if he took matters into his own hands, you wouldn’t stop him. You wanted it more than ever. You wanted to tell him to just have his way with you. And you knew you absolutely could. He knew you could. He would do whatever you wanted him to. But it wasn’t about what he wanted. It was all about how long you could fight the urge to tip the balance. To realize that the one who submits all power is truly the one in control. He was giving you the chance to be demanding. To be commanding. To be strong. The power play was absolutely diabolical.

“Do that again.” You choked out, trying your best not to sound desperate. George knew exactly what you wanted. So he did it again, but softer. More enjoyable. More deliberate. And by telling him what you wanted, he knew you had acquired a new goal. And you wanted to see how far he would go to please you.

“Make me feel confident.” You sighed. “Make me feel powerful.”

“I can’t do that, dear.” George replied without missing a beat, thumbs still slowly dragging back and forth across your nipples. “That has to come from within.”

You whined. The closer you got to what you wanted, the harder it was to keep up the confidence. You thought choosing the route of pleasure would be easier for you, but it was the same old story. Entering with a confident facade was simple. But the deeper you went, the more you wanted to back out.

“It doesn’t feel like me.” You breathed. George moved his hands to your waist, opting for a soft massage to ease the level of stimulation.

“Don’t lose it,” He whispered, “You were doing great.” You didn’t respond, slowly being dragged back inside your own head. If this had any shot of working, George knew he had to keep you grounded. “We both know this is something the real you wants.”

You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts into a neatly folded pile. Based on your personal skills, it looked more like a lumpy pile of laundry, but at least it was all together. You tried to imagine that you were alone again. That your only company was yourself. And for the first time, the person staring back at you was a true reflection. Still in your own world, you whispered so that only you could hear.

“Give me what I need. Give me what I want.” But George heard you loud and clear, assuming his role and getting you to the end. He resumed his deliberate touching across your chest, and you immersed yourself in it as if it were your own. You don’t know how long it went on for, but all you knew was that you never wanted it to end. George moved as if he was giving a deep tissue massage to your soul. Everything you said, he did. Everywhere you wanted to be touched, he did. He didn’t need to understand your rhyme or reason. Whatever your body was calling out for needed to be answered. The real you needed to be heard.

Eventually you felt a bout of pressure begin to build inside you. The longer it went on, the stronger it felt. Lately, the concept of pleasure had been one form of stress relief you couldn’t rely on. Try as you must, you couldn’t bring yourself to the edge. But this time was different. In his newfound role, George had bestowed upon you the virtual reality of physical pleasure. It wasn’t sex. You didn’t want sex. Throughout this entire session, you had never once asked him to touch you in your most intimate place. This was about stimulation. But if it ended in an orgasm, you were more than satisfied with that.

And you felt it. It slowly rose, like a high tide during a full moon. The soft light bouncing off the rippling water like your body started to shake, the glorious light of your soul trying to break out of your skin. Though he sensed you nearing the edge, George didn’t speed up. He didn’t slow down. He didn’t change anything. He stared at you as your head tipped back, small moans leaving your lips. You couldn’t say anything else to direct him, but there was nothing left to say anyway. The pleasure had peaked, the wave reaching a new height. It came crashing down onto the shore, your orgasm flowing through you. You released with a gasping shout, your exclamation nothing short of the highest praise for George and his intricate touches. Your arms could no longer hold you up, and your elbows buckled, sending you falling backwards onto the floor. George caught your head before you made contact, lowering you down the rest of the way. He rubbed small circles on the soft skin of your stomach just above your waistband. You sighed, your breathing slowly returning to normal as your lover began to leave small kisses on your right shoulder. You giggled, celebrating the fact that your new goal had been accomplished: it was the first time you had ever come untouched.

George laid on the floor next to you, head tucked in your neck and one hand flat over your stomach, patting it in a slow, rhythmic fashion. “You need anything?” He whispered, poking your ear with his nose. You shook your head no, not wanting to move from this position, which included having him next to you. You rolled on your side to face him, brushing a few strands of hair away from his face. “I do have one question, though,” you mumbled, still in your post-coital haze, “does meditation usually lead to sex?”

George chuckled, slinging his arm over your hip to brush his hand over your back. “That is called tantra, love. It uses multiple forms of stimulation simultaneously, and yes, sometimes it does result in pleasurable situations like these.”

You smiled, pondering the topic. “So it’s meditation in the form of pleasure? But how does that relate to me feeling more confident?”

“It’s all about unlocking your true potential.” George replied, pausing briefly to perfect his explanation. “You felt confident. That’s mental stimulation. And paired with the physical stimulation, it provided enough emotional stimulation for you to have a powerful release.” He stared into your eyes with a mixture of love and gratitude. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to own up to it yet, but having you tell him what to do was also an example of mental and emotional stimulation. One that he had not been able to find on his own. The concept of joint meditation was something mutually beneficial.

“So when can we do it again?” You mused, earning a light chuckle from the man beside you.

“Whenever you want, my Domine.” George teased, seeing how you shivered at the recurring mention of your new title. He took the pillow that you had been using as a cushion and urged you to lift your head, placing it on the floor underneath you, watching as you sunk into the plush fabric. You smiled warmly, watching him take another pillow from the pile beside you, both of you get comfortable on the floor. The carpet was soft enough, but the addition of the pillows made for a fine place to have a nap. Eyes softly closing as the warm sun cascaded through the window and blanketed your nearly sleeping forms, your voice came as a barely audible whisper.

“Did you enjoy having me be in charge for once?” George smiled, not bothering to open his eyes to respond, but hearing your statement loud and clear. He thought for a moment before answering, but there was technically no need. He was no stranger to an apparently not so new experience.

“You’ve always been in charge to me, my dear.”

==============================

Happy new year y'all! 🥰🥰🥰 To kick off 2024, I figured I would finally finish up the last fic that was featured in that poll I made however many months ago that was lol also I will say that this is my first smut fic so pls go easy on me 😅 I'm sure I'll get there eventually BUT other than that I hope you enjoy! 😁

[iheartjohnlennon]

George Harrison overstimulation 🎀 I need that boy CRYING, WINING, GAGGED, TIED. Like, I need him on the brink of consciousness, barely able to form full groans anymore. Pretty pretty please.

'Behind that locked door'

Your home in London, '74-'75

Word count: 3K+

Tags: Vaginal Sex, Overstimulation, Light Dom/sub, Teasing

George was sat on the edge of your bed. He was fidgeting with his feet. Behind him, you lounged against the pillows, half-naked and smiling at him unnoticed. You had been relaxed like this for the past half an hour since you had both showered together.

He was slightly out of your foots reach. All you were staring at was his clothed back. You saw George was quite thin, but he still had tone where it counted. His soft, brown waves flowed down way past his ears. You liked the way he got his hair cut now - it made him look majestic, matured....and it was very, very nice to stroke. But it wasn't just his physical appearance that drew you in; it was his demeanour. There was a depth to him, a spirituality.

What a beauty he was, even when you couldn't see his face at all.

 

The silence between you was comfortable, it allowed you to appreciate him and what not, but eventually, the need for interaction; the need for him; the need for his cock, became too strong to simply ignore. So, you poked his back with your foot a few times.

"George..." You spoke.

Your voice had strained slightly, sounding needy for him.

His expression was calm when he turned to you, but it wasn't without his toothy grin. You could see his cute anticipation. He always sounded so excited on the phone when you invited him over.

"Y/N..." He mimicked back, his voice smooth. 

Taking a breath, you sat up fully and smiled at him. "Come here." 

Without any hesitation, George complied, crawling onto the bed fully, taking away all the space that was between you both before.

He laid on his back and looked to the ceiling. When he settled beside you, you stayed sitting up so you could look down him - lovingly, of course. The sight of him, relaxed and vulnerable beneath you, sent an erotic thrill coursing through you.

You reached out to lightly trace the exposed skin peeking through the undone buttons of his shirt. Your fingers traced there slowly, drawing lazy circles that made him feel nice. 

His head tiredly tilted to the side, trying to decipher what you wanted him to do tonight.

But any thoughts that lingered in his mind were quickly forgotten when he felt your hand grasping his chin.

He looked into your eyes; your usual loving gaze was now clouded with a blunt lust. 

George felt himself falling into relaxation with your touch, brows relaxing as his eyes fell to a half-lidded stare.

Your smile never left your face and George was sure you could tell him to bark and he’d ask, like which dog? 

"Is there anythin' I can do for you?" He asked teasingly, breaking the second silence. 

"Well, it depends." You answered vaguely, holding back a giggle. 

Taking your laughter as an invitation for foreplay, George's hand trailed up your thigh. Before he could even try undressing you, your hand sharply slapped his away. 

"Ow." He felt like a scolded child, he frowned at you. "What? 'm not allowed to touch you now or somethin'?"

You didn't answer him and bit your lip, feeling a bit bad for teasing him, but not bad enough to not proceed with your little plan. 

George was looking to you, waiting for you to either give him permission to feel you, or to tell him what game you were playing today. 

The hand that had slapped him away now drew him in closer by his jaw. You cooed to soothe his frustration - George always fell victim to your words.

"Since someone doesn't know how to keep their hands to themselves, I don't think they should be allowed to use them at all!"

Your voice dripped with sultriness, and your smile was still just as sweet as before - you hoped your dominance was working.

George stared at you, dumbfounded by this new attitude. He didn't dislike it though, and not one to question you, he simply nodded. 

"Yeah, 'course...'m sorry, I'll keep them to meself."

He assured you, wanting to play along with what he thought was just an insignificant role play. 

But then you shook your head, hair bouncing with every direction you turned. "No, no, that won't do. How can I perfectly make sure you won't touch me?"

"I..uh, I dunno, really." He replied.

George’s teeth bit at the inside of his cheek. Shit. You were being serious; you weren't just being silly. 

He tried to think of any reason he could. He wanted to blabber to you that he was a good boy, that he could behave and listen to you - but with the look you gave him, he knew it was better to just...obey?

Then your sharp nail landed under his chin, forcing him to look at you again. And he did, he looked at you from his lashes, strands of his hair covered his face.

He looked weak now, small even. Usually, it was the other way around. You delicately brushed his hair away from his face and gave his nose a small peck.

"I have a really good idea on how. Do you want to know my idea, George?"

George nodded, a bit too eagerly you noticed.

"Go on, use your words. Can't quite hear you if you’re nodding." You snapped. 

His mouth opened and closed thrice, he was desperate to blurt out a yes, but all the emotions he was feeling blocked it.

George blinked and helplessly stared at you, hoping that was enough of an answer. But he knew it wasn’t when you gave him a harsh glare.

"Yes, please. I do want to know, love." He replied eventually, sounding subtly nervous.

 

You veered off the bed and took a short walk to your dresser. George’s eyes followed your every movement lustfully. 

He heard a compartment opening suddenly, then the shifting through it started.

There was something you were looking for, something that George couldn’t figure out yet.

What could you be up to? You had both played with...props before, but your sly demeanour tonight added a weird feeling twist. 

 

When you came back, dangling upon your hand, in a mocking manner, were two ties George had left in your bedroom. Both different colours, different patterns. He watched the fabrics sway, they almost hypnotising him with their swinging. 

His cheeks started to grow red, embarrassment settled in the pit of his stomach.

It had finally registered in his mind what you were going to do to him.

You wanted to tie him up? Tie him up with his own ties? That was sexy, he thought. He could work with this, yeah, he could - and would. 

It’s not like he’d ever tell you no, even though he'd never been tied up before.

 

He adjusted himself, edging closer to where you were standing as he seemingly surrendered himself to you.

"Please, do whatever it is you want with me." His voice was low, a tantalising plea. 

You couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. Maybe he still felt you were just doing a silly roleplay. Either way it didn't matter, you were going to show him.

"I planned on this by the way, you didn’t have to agree, George."

And though these words sounded cruel, George knew you’d never hurt him. At least, not in a way he wouldn’t like, that is.

 

You slowly dropped the ties on the bed, inching closer to him before you completely mounted him in the perfect cowgirl position.

His body settled snug against the mattress, you adjusted the pillows for him so he could feel comfortable.

Your hands rested on his shoulders until you decided it would be best to unbutton his shirt now. 

George’s back arched ever so slightly to encourage you to further your exploration. You slipped his shirt off of him, now he was half naked. He groaned quietly, wanting you to move against him so bad.

You rested your hand on his thighs. He could feel your nails through the thin material of his trousers. His jaw clenched, trying to obey.

"Touch me." He groaned, feeling his cock warm against your thigh. 

Your head tilted, a look of mock sympathy filled his view. Did he say the wrong words again? Yeah, he probably did.

"I didn’t mean t' boss you around, 'm sorry, love."

Instead of a nasty glare, you gave him a smile and light pat against his thigh. "Good, boy."

Good boy, you had said.

Those two words quickly settled into George's mind. 

He was your good boy? 

With your pleased attitude, George smiled. He did something right and that did make him feel good, rewarded. 

You stopped sitting on him so you could fully undress him. You saw the imprint of his cock stiff against his trousers when you got off of him. 

You settled on your knees. Both of your hands found the waistband of his trousers and his boxers. He took a shallow breath in because your wrist stroked against it, it was growing against his own thigh, pulsing, eager to be left free. 

You tugged down at a pace that was killing him. It was barely going past his pubic hair. He groaned in frustration, luckily you didn't take it as that. But he was growing uncomfortable, moving his head as he let out low noises. He wouldn’t whine, that was his only rule to himself. 

"Tut tut, Someone's impatient." You chided, stopping the undressing altogether.

He was caught off guard by your sudden halt. 

"Sorry...please continue, love..." He urged earnestly, wanting nothing more than to please you. 

George wasn't even tied up yet but it bloody felt like he was - he was tied up by your words, your actions. 

You smiled at his submissiveness. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice soft and tender as you resumed your task, still slowly tugging his bottom half down. 

You resumed your task, your fingers pulling m down with just the right amount of resistance.

George's waistband finally slipped past his hips. His cock was fully erect and aching, it slapped against his stomach. You both let out a small sigh of relief, the moment of impatient finally gave way. 

He wanted you to do something about his erection, but he knew it wasn't going to come easy. 

You smell his fear, sense his impatience and feel his need for release. You take your time and relish in the power you hold over him. You put your hands on his thighs and leaned your mouth close to his cock. Your breath ghosted over the tip and your tongue almost licked it. George's heart raced. He wanted to hold the back of your head, like he normally did when you suck him off. But he knows that he has to wait for you to make a move.

George felt a surge of pleasure shoot through him as you leaned in closer, your tongue darted out to tease him with playful licks, only on his tip. Each flick of your tongue sent sparks of electricity coursing through his veins, his breath caught in his throat as he struggled to contain the overwhelming wave of desire that threatened to consume him. He felt himself leaking precum, you take him into your mouth, sucking gently on the tip.

As George felt the exquisite torture of your touch come to an abrupt halt, he found himself painfully hard, his desire reached a fever pitch as he longed to be inside of you. 

 

You moved to restrain him, surprising him with your swift and decisive action. You straddled his stomach, your eyes locked on his, he couldn't help but smile up at you, his excitement now palpable. 

 

With deft fingers, you bind his wrists to the bed frame, securing him in place. And as you looked down at him, a playful glint in your eye, he knew what he was in for.

"Are you ready?" you whispered. 

George nodded eagerly. 

 

As you moved down from straddling his stomach, George watched with bated breath, as you position yourself above his hard cock. 

And yet, despite the overwhelming intensity of the moment, you still wore your underwear, the fabric adding an extra layer of friction that pushed George to the edge of sanity. He felt his wrists straining against the confines of his ties. 

You unclasped your bra, revealing your bare chest to him. Finally, he thought, when he took in the sight before him. Though a pang of disappointment washed over him when he realised he couldn't squeeze them as he normally would. You could sense his frustration, and it made you laugh inside. 

 

You slipped your panties to the side, allowing him access. He watched you with hungry eyes when you did so, revealing the glistening warmth between your thighs.

Before you put him inside, you grabbed his stiffness, stroking him quickly and gripping him firmly. 

With one hand rested lightly on his chest to steady yourself, you reached down with the other, your fingers wrapped around his hardness as you guided him to your cunt. George's breath caught in his throat as his tip first felt the slick heat of you enveloping him. 

George felt just the tip of himself entering you, he was overcome with a rush of sensation unlike anything he's ever experienced before. It's a slow, torturous tease as you guide him inside, inch by agonising inch. 

With each slow descent, George could feel the exquisite tightness of you enveloping him, drawing him in deeper with each tantalising stroke. It's a sweet torture, the sensation of being half-buried inside you driving him to the brink of madness as he longed for more, for deeper penetration.

But you continue to move with a slowness, your pace unhurried as you take him in halfway, then back out again. George felt himself losing control, his breath came in short, ragged gasps as he strained against his restraints, desperate for release.

And yet, despite the frustration and longing that coursed through him, George knew that he wouldn't have it any other way.

 

As George laid there taking it, he could barely find the words to express what he needed. His breaths came in short, ragged gasps, his body trembled as he watched you move above him, your movements slow and deliberate, driving him to the brink of madness.

"Please," he managed to gasp out, his voice barely a whisper as he struggles to form the words.

He can feel the desperation clawing at him, the need for more, for deeper penetration, threatening to consume him whole.

But you continued your slow, teasing movements, your pace unhurried as you drew out the anticipation, revelling in the power you hele over him. With each downward stroke, you felt yourself growing wetter around him. 

 

"What do you want?" you said, holding back a moan. "Get it out, George."

"Deeper," he gasped, as he arched his hips, seeking more. 

"What do you say, George?" 

You wanted a please. You needed a please. 

"What?" He questioned, too consumed by near climax to understand what you wanted from him just then.

You tutted and shook your head subtly, still continuing your pace. "Say, please, George."

"Please, Y/N." George felt your wetness coating him, he revelled in the sensation of being used by you, unable to control anything without his hands.

 

You placed both of your hands on George's chest, to steady yourself riding. With your newfound control, you began to take him in deeper, your movements deliberate and precise as you took him in from his tip to his balls.

George's senses became overwhelmed by the feel of being fully engulfed by your hole, the tightness of your warmth surrounded him in a cocoon of pleasure. It's a heady rush- the feeling of completely filling you after being teased, paired with the fact that his hands are tied to the bed. 

 

You noticed a change in his usual reactions. Instead of the groans and moans you're accustomed to, he's whimpering, the sound so unlike him that it catches you off guard. It's a raw, primal sound, one that sends a shiver down your spine as you realise just how deeply he's being affected. 

Determined to push him even further, you started moving up and down rougher, more aggressive, your pace quickening as you take him in with force. The room filled with the sound of flesh meeting flesh, the rhythmic clapping noises echoed off the walls. 

With each rough movement, George's whimpering grew louder, his cries of pleasure mingled with your own. You both surrendered to the overwhelming tide of sensation. 

 

As you both approach your climaxes, George felt the tension building within him. He knew that his wrists would be marked red after, but in the heat of the moment, he wasn't bothered. All he could think about was cumming.

He found himself calling out your name, his voice a hoarse whisper as he lost himself in the pleasure of the moment. He was in a trance, barely able to keep his eyes open. 

 

"Are you close?" You breathed out.

George could only nod hastily, his breath came in short, as he felt himself teetering on the edge of release.

And before he knew it, he spilled himself inside of you, his body trembled with the force of his climax.

He felt you tightening around him, your own climax washed over you.

In that moment, as you both reached the peak of pleasure together, you're lost in a dizzying whirlwind. 

 

You slowed down and eventually stopped riding him. You collapsed beside him in a heap of spent pleasure.

George couldn't help but chuckle softly to himself. Normally, he would reach out to wrap his arms around you, to pull you close and revel in the afterglow of your sex. But with his hands tied, he was unable to do so, and the realisation brought a wry smile to his lips.

 

With a chuckle, George turned his head to look at you. "Are you going to untie me so we can hug?" he asked. 

You met his gaze with a smirk, shaking your head in mock seriousness. "No, you're stuck like this forever."

70's George is the best George.

[juniperskye]

Begin Again.

Sneak peek: Reader got out of a relationship about eight months ago and was sure love was meant to burn and break and end…but this particular Wednesday made her believe that maybe, just maybe, she could begin again with someone new.

Aaron Hotchner x (Fem) Reader

Angst/Fluff

Word count: 1236

***Flashbacks are indented and in italics – this story flashes from present to past a few times. ***

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, implied age gap (kinda?), anxiety, self-consciousness, Past abusive relationship, explicit LANGUAGE,  no use of y/n, mention of Jack, mention of Hotch’s previous relationship, story is guided by begin again by Taylor Swift (lyrics aren’t all directly used), mention of a love of the Beatles. I think that’s all, let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror, second guessing your outfit choice.  Were the heels too much? Would he comment on them, would he be okay with them? Maybe you should switch to flats, they would be a safer choice.

“Babe seriously. Do you have to wear heels?” He berated you. “These are the shoes she told us to wear. I can’t switch shoes I’m a bridesmaid and were all supposed to look uniform.” You explained. “Really? You’re going to make me look so fucking stupid. Who cares if she chose those, just tell her the didn’t fit or the clasp broke or something.” “I’m not doing that.” You said. “You’re so difficult. Just change your shoes, it’s not a big deal. I just don’t want to look like a fucking idiot because my girlfriend is towering over me.” He continued.

You could remember multiple arguments that went that way. Him yelling at you for dressing how you wanted, so you didn’t. He started picking out your clothes and you complied, because that was easier than having him tear you down.

You smoothed your hands over your clothes and made your way out the door. The drive to the Café was a short one. You parked and made your way across the street, ready to go in and get a table for the two of you, fully expecting to have beaten him there.

To your surprise, when you opened the door, there he was. Aaron stood from his seat and walked toward you. You met him halfway and he pulled you into a gentle embrace. You didn’t fail to notice how he still towered over you despite your heels,

“Hi! It’s so good to see you.” He said pulling out your chair.

“Oh, thank you! It’s good to see you too, I was really glad you called.” You smiled as Aaron returned to his seat across from you.

“Yeah, sorry that it’s a random Wednesday, but with my job it makes it so hard and with us being free today I wanted to take the chance and spend it with you.” Aaron explained.

“I am happy to be here! The day doesn’t matter.” You shot Aaron a shy smile.

“You look beautiful by the way.”

You couldn’t help but blush at Aaron’s words. He had been so kind and gentle with you since you had started seeing one another. You had only gone on a few dates, but things were really good. The two of you had agreed to take things slow, having both gotten out of relationships not too long ago and Aaron also had Jack to think about. You guys had texted and talked on the phone quite a bit. He had gone as far as to call you late one night after a particularly rough case.

The two of you were currently talking about how your respective weeks have gone. Aaron had just gotten back from a case (hence why you were on your date now) and you had just completed a pretty big project at work. In the midst of your conversation, the song playing in the café changed to I Will by the Beatles, one of your favorite songs.

“Oh my god I love this song!” You gushed, quietly humming along.

“You like the Beatles?” Aaron asked.

“I love them! I have every one of their albums on vinyl.” You blushed.

“I don’t think I have ever met a woman with the same level of Beatles obsession as my own.” Aaron smiled at you in admiration.

The two of you ate while quietly enjoying the music and one another’s company.

“For if I ever saw you, I didn’t catch your name. But it never really mattered, I will always feel the same. Love you forever and forever, love you with all my hear- “ “Jesus, can you stop fucking singing that song?” He huffed. “Babe, it’s a really good song, I wish you would just listen to the words.” “I don’t give a shit about your stupid song. I don’t get it anyway.” He shut you down.

Aaron and you continued your conversation upon finishing your meal. You were in pure bliss with how amazing things were going. Aaron was attentive and gave you his full attention. He nodded and responded when it was needed. He also held conversation so well, he gave just enough information about himself in combination with asking you about yourself.

Another thing that had you swooning over Aaron was the fact that he had thrown his head back in laughter a few times throughout your conversation. You truly couldn’t wrap your head around how lucky you had been to have met Aaron. Your ex had never found your sense of humor funny, and it was nice to be in the presence of someone who appreciated it.

“Can you not make jokes like that when we’re in front of my friends? Like seriously what the fuck was that?” He demanded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a joke. Your friends laughed.” You shrugged. “It wasn’t even funny. They just laughed out of pity to save you from the embarrassment of nobody understanding your stupid ass jokes.” He rolled his eyes at you as he stormed off.

Aaron checked his watch and noticed how late it was getting. He looked into your eyes and smiled, neither one of you wanting this day to end. But he needed to go pick up Jack from soccer practice.

“Can I walk you to your car?” Aaron asked.

“That would be great.” You smiled, wrapping your scarf around your neck.

As you made your way over to your car, you thought about talking to Aaron about how your ex had truly broken you, and that part of the reason you’d requested to take things so slowly is because you had to relearn how to accept love from someone. The last eight months had allowed you time to fall in love with yourself again, but loving someone else was a whole new obstacle you were working through.

Aaron’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, he had been talking about how he wanted to introduce you to Jack, not now, but in the near future. He had come up with a nice way to do so.

“So, Jack and I always watch Elf and the Grinch around Christmas, I think it could be nice if one night you came over and watched one of them with us, you know. It gives us a few more weeks to really solidify things between us and by then we will have been seeing each other for four months. What do you say?” Aaron looked hopefully at you.

“Only if it’s the Jim Carrey Grinch movie. That new animated one is cute and all, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the live action.” You smiled back at him.

“Of course, it’s the Jim Carrey one. We take things very seriously at our house.” Aaron smirked at you.

Aaron and you shared a laugh, and then he brushed his hand over your cheek, leaned in, and kissed you gently. December couldn’t come fast enough. Things with your ex had really messed you up, and he’d left you believing that love wasn’t meant to flourish, just burn, and break and end.

But on a Wednesday, in a Café you watched it begin again.

[thebeatles-world]

Omg I just found your account ahdsj and I love it!! Especially your ringo stuff eee, could I rq a blurb where the reader is a assistant for the beatles and ringo starts to notice you've been getting stressed and haven't been sleeping enough/eating well and is determined to help? Sorry if your fanfic rqs aren't open rn I was just wonderin!!:>

Thank you! I love writing imagines for Ringo 🥺😍🥰 & honestly pls request more imagines of Ringo because I love him sooo much. Also my inbox is always open for imagines of The Beatles! Don’t be afraid to request one!

I hope you like this imagine!

Help!

You were working as a assistant for The Beatles for a while now.

It did get chaotic sometimes working for the boys. They would run all over you and you honestly felt like a teacher calming down a classroom full of children when they got rowdy, loud and chased each other.

Your job wasn’t as easy as they thought it was. You had to mange them, schedule dinner meets, conferences, meet and greets, handle their paperwork, made sure the boys got up on time, and communicate back and forth to Brian every day about what’s going on.

You felt like you were running around with your head cut off and the boys weren’t making it easy…

“Boys! Can you stop that please?” You asked nicely as you saw John, Paul and George playing with their food and started to throw it at each other while laughing.

You noticed that Ringo was just silently staring at them, slowly taking bites of his mashed potatoes.

Of course as usual they didn’t listen to you and continued to do what they were doing.

“Please don’t do that, you are going to-“ You begin as you saw Paul grab a handful of mashed potatoes from his plate and threw it right at John’s suit.

“Ruin his suit.” You mumbled to yourself. It was too late. John’s suit was ruined and it was only 30 minutes until they needed to leave for showtime.

John and Paul just started laughing at the mashed potato stain that John now had on his suit.

“It feels like I’m working for a bunch of children!!” You groaned out loud, covering your face as you left the room.

Ringo felt bad for you. He knew that his bandmates didn’t care and they weren’t taking it easy on you. He was the only one that didn’t participate in the foolish acts that they did.

He also noticed that you weren’t eating and sleeping well. He knew that you were up late at night planning for the next day and working hard while the boys were sleeping.

Ringo wanted to give you a hand and help you out. He felt like it was the right thing to do and he wanted for you to have a break for once without having a stressful day.

At least he thought that your job wasn’t easy…

After the concert, you stayed up late as always and worked on plans for the next days ahead. You made sure paperwork was done and you wrote a few reminders down to make sure you wouldn’t forget.

You heard a knock on your bedroom door.

You raised an eyebrow, putting down your pencil.

“Who could this be? Probably one of the boys wanting something.” You mumbled to yourself as you put on a robe.

“Yes come in.” You said, sitting down on your chair.

“Hey… It’s me Ringo.” Ringo gave you a smile as he opened your bedroom door.

“Hey Ringo, Can I help you?” You said in confusion.

“Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” You added as he came to your room.

“I was wondering if we could talk?” Ringo said, sitting down on you bed.

“Yes of course. About what?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I noticed you work very hard and I know you don’t get appreciate of how hard you work. You deserve to have a stress-free life. You done so much for us. You are the most selfless person i know. You are a very lovely lady and I hate to see how my band mates treat you. I was wondering if… I could help?” Ringo asked.

You were shocked but in awe of his words.

Ringo noticed how hard you been working? And noticed how you felt?

That was so sweet of him.

“Ringo, you are such a sweet guy… I appreciate your offer but-“ you begin before he cut you off.

“I’ll do it for free. I’ll do it to make sure you don’t have enough on your plate. I want to make sure that at the end of the day you are eating, sleeping well and being stress free. That’s all it matters to me.” Ringo took your hand and held it.

“I promise.” He said softly.

“Okay. Of course. That will do.” You said softly with a smile.

“Thank you.” You added, leaning in to give Ringo a hug.

“You’re welcome Y/N.” Ringo hugged you back.

Over the next few weeks, there was definitely a huge improvement.

With Ringo’s help, you got to relax, eat and sleep well. He even calmed John, Paul and George down when they were acting really rowdy and he made them realize that your job position wasn’t easy.

He even helped you out scheduling meetings, dinner, hotels, meet and greets with public, flights and people as well.

Having Ringo by your side made it so easy. You weren’t stressed out as you were back then. He had your back and having his help made it more easier on you. Every night he would offer to give you a massage which of course you accepted because Ringo was really good at massaging you and his massage’s relaxed you and your body a lot.

“Ringo I just know you are going to be husband material one day!” You told him as he started to massage your feet.

Ringo started blushing after you told him that.

“You deserve it my dear Y/N. For being a good assistant.” Ringo said.

“Hey guys have you seen my -“ John said as he came to the living room where Ringo was giving you a massage at.

“Aww Ringo, I didn’t know you had the hots for Y/N.” John smirked at Ringo.

“What are you talking about? I’m just giving her a massage.” Ringo said, raising his eyebrow at him. You raised your eyebrow at John as well while you took a sip of your lemonade drink.

“Mhm sure. Just make sure to use protection if you guys ever decide to do it.” John smirked and left.

John’s comment almost made you spit out your drink.

[julialestrade]

Paul McCartney x Reader

~Secretly Yours~

Dear Diary,

I can’t believe it. I really can’t. I’ve been keeping this secret for weeks now, and I swear I’m going to explode if I don’t tell someone. But I can’t just tell *anyone*, right? So, here I am, pouring my heart out to you. Promise you won’t tell a soul, okay? Pinky swear.

It all started at one of the rehearsals a few weeks ago. You know how John’s always going on and on about the band? “The Beatles this,” “The Beatles that,” “Oh, look at me, I’m a rock star now.” Ugh, brothers, right? But honestly, I don’t mind. I mean, I know how much the band means to him, and I’ve grown to like their music, too.

Okay, fine—I *love* their music. I’ve probably listened to "She Loves You" a million times. But that’s not even the best part. The best part is… Paul McCartney. Yes, *THE* Paul McCartney. He’s just so… I don’t know, dreamy? Charming? Everything. I’ve had a little crush on him ever since I first met him, but I figured he’d never notice me. I’m just John’s little sister, right?

But then… it happened.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and John had dragged me along to their rehearsal at The Cavern Club. It was dark and musty in there, but I loved it. The music felt alive in that tiny space, like the walls were breathing along with every beat of the drums. I was sitting in the corner, trying to look cool and not at all like the awkward girl I am, when Paul looked over at me and *smiled*. Not just any smile—a *Paul McCartney* smile, the kind that makes your heart do somersaults.

I thought it was just a fluke, you know? Like maybe he smiles at everyone that way. But then, after they finished playing, he walked right over to me. I almost died on the spot.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, like he’d known me forever. “What’d you think of the set?”

I must’ve looked like a complete idiot, just staring up at him with wide eyes, because he chuckled a little. I managed to stammer something like, “It was great!” which was totally not enough to explain how I was feeling. But he didn’t seem to mind.

After that, we started talking. And not just like, “Oh, how are you?” No, we really talked. He told me about growing up in Liverpool, how he and John became friends, and how much he loved music. I told him about school and my favorite books and how annoying John could be. He laughed and said, “Yeah, John can be a bit much, can’t he?” We were just two people, hanging out, and it felt so… natural.

But that was only the beginning.

Later that night, after the rehearsal was over, Paul found me again. This time, he asked if I wanted to go for a walk. I could barely breathe, but somehow, I nodded. We slipped out of The Cavern without anyone noticing (thankfully, John was busy with the others). We walked through the quiet streets, talking about everything and nothing. And then, just as we were passing by the docks, Paul stopped and turned to me.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you something,” he said, looking a bit shy, which was crazy because Paul McCartney doesn’t get shy, right?

“What is it?” I asked, my heart pounding.

He hesitated for a moment, then said, “Would you mind if I… kissed you?”

Diary, I nearly fainted. *Paul McCartney* was asking to kiss *me*. I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded, probably looking like a complete idiot again. But then he leaned in, and before I knew it, his lips were on mine. It was soft and sweet and perfect, like something out of a daydream.

When we pulled apart, he smiled at me again—that same smile that made my heart race—and said, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

We’ve been sneaking around ever since. I know it’s kind of crazy, but there’s something exciting about it, too. No one knows, not even John. I mean, can you imagine what he’d do if he found out? He’s so protective, and the last thing I need is for him to go all big-brother on Paul. Besides, this is our little secret, and I kind of like it that way.

But keeping a secret like this is harder than I thought. Every time I see Paul, my heart skips a beat, and I’m constantly on edge, hoping no one will find out. The worst part is knowing how much John would freak out if he knew. He’s always been so protective of me, and while I appreciate it, I don’t think he’d react well to me dating Paul. I’m scared that if John finds out, it could ruin everything.

Paul and I have found our own little spots to hang out, away from prying eyes. One of our favorite places is a small park near the river. It’s quiet and secluded, and we can talk for hours without anyone bothering us. We sit on a bench under a big old tree, and it feels like time stands still. I’ve never felt so comfortable and happy with anyone before.

Last week, Paul surprised me with a picnic at the park. He brought all my favorite snacks—cheese and crackers, chocolate, and this really good lemonade he said he made himself. We laughed and talked about everything, from his childhood dreams to my embarrassing school stories. It felt so easy to be with him, like we were in our own little world.

As the sun started to set, Paul looked at me with that serious-but-tender expression of his. “You know, Y/N, I’m really glad we met. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”

I felt my cheeks flush. “I’ve been thinking about you too, Paul.”

He smiled that smile of his—the one that makes my heart flutter. Then he took my hand, his fingers interlacing with mine. “I know this is all a bit crazy, with the band and everything, but I really like being with you. I want to make this work, no matter how tough it gets.”

I squeezed his hand, feeling a rush of happiness. “Me too, Paul. I just wish it could be easier.”

Paul nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “We’ll figure it out. Maybe not right now, but we will. As long as we’re together, we can handle anything.”

It was then I realized how much Paul meant to me. He wasn’t just some rock star with a charming smile. He was someone who cared deeply, who made me feel special and understood. I knew that our situation was far from perfect, but being with him made everything feel worth it.

So, Diary, that’s where I am right now. Trying to balance this secret relationship with the normal chaos of life. I love spending time with Paul, and I’m excited about what the future might hold. I just hope that when the time comes for John to find out, he’ll understand. Because if he doesn’t, I’m not sure what I’ll do.

For now, I’m holding on to these moments with Paul, savoring every smile, every kiss, every shared laugh. It’s our little secret, and while it’s a bit scary and complicated, it’s also the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever experienced.

Until next time, Diary.

Love,

Y/N

- I did use the deepL writing assistant because English isn’t my first language so if stuff sounds weird it is just bc it isn’t my native language sorry 😅

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Dark Shades of Innocence Lost Part 5: Just Stay✨

Club owner! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

Summary: Joel takes you on a date to his favorite diner.

A/N: This chapter gets angsty real quick, so I’m sorry 😭 But it’s so so important for the plot and the next chapter. We will get through it, besties 🥹 This fic is my baby, and I am just so happy with how it’s turning out. I want to hear all your thoughts! Thank you to @joelmillerisapunk for beta reading for me 💕 Next chapter is almost done so promise I won’t make you wait long! Comments and reblogs always make my day, I hope you enjoy 🩵

Word Count: 7.6k

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Chapter tags: Fluff, Joel being cute and flirty, yearning, a lot of angst, feelings, doubts, no use y/n, no outbreak! au, Joel takes reader on a date, a lot of tears, switching POVs (I’m terrible with tags, so let me know if I missed anything!)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

 It’s Thursday, the night of your dinner with Joel, and you’re currently sitting in his truck, twisting your fingers nervously into the fabric of your dress, your smile a mile wide as you listen to Joel’s Southern accent put you in a hypnotic trance.

   God, he’s so handsome. 

   “Think you’re gonna like this place,” Joel smiles as his thumb taps against the leather steering wheel. His truck hums to a stop in front of a lit up small diner that reads Sal’s in bright blue letters.

   “I’m sure I will.” You smile over at him before he puts the truck in park and unlatches his seat belt, slipping out of the driver’s side while you climb out the passenger’s door, pulling down your white summer dress over your thighs.

   The truck ride to dinner was anything but boring as you listened to Joel talk more about his daughter and some of their adventures they’ve been on before she went off to Greece to study abroad. You wondered what happened to Sarah’s mom, but maybe that was territory for another time. Besides, you still don't know what this thing is between you two, but it’s starting to feel a lot more like something serious and not just something casual. And that absolutely scares you to death. 

   “After you,” he nods as he holds the door open for you and leads you in, one large hand clasped on your lower back as if his touch is steadying your galloping heart.

   When you step in, an old jukebox sits at the entrance, lit up in neon green colors as an Elvis song vibrates through the overhead speakers. Leather booths sit against the brown painted walls as pictures of The Beatles, Marilyn Monroe, and old movie stars hang around the diner. It’s an old timey theme that goes with the bar that sits at the front with a big glass case of pies and desserts on display. It’s very homey and comforting.

   Yeah, you definitely like this place. 

   “Wow. This is really cozy,” you say as you look around all starry eyed at the little diner.

   Joel looks down at you, and a crooked grin tugs at his lips. “That it is.”

   A waitress in a red apron waves the both of you over with two crisp menus. “Hey, Joel! Table for two?” The perky brunette smiles as Joel nods. 

   “Hey, Kat. Yeah, table for two, please,” he replies as he pushes you forward in the direction of the back booth she leads you to.

   “Come here a lot?” you giggle.

   “How’d you guess?” He smirks, brown eyes flicking over you as he pulls his hand away, allowing you to slide in the leather seat across from him. His knees brush lightly against yours, and a jolt of energy bursts through your bloodstream.

   “So, what’s your go-to here? Since you obviously come here a lot,” you laugh as you pick up a plastic menu and scan the various burgers, sandwiches, milk shakes, and old fashioned dinner items that all sound absolutely delicious.

   You hear him chuckle over your menu, slowly lowering it so you can see that glimmer of onyx in his eyes as a smug smile crosses his lips. “Usually jus’ go for the old fashioned cheese burger and a chocolate shake.”

   “Not bad, Miller.” 

   He smiles and nods your way. “And you? What kind of shake girl are you?” He leans on his elbow on the polished table and gazes into your eyes. You have to catch your breath as you stare at him, his slicked back dark hair, grey threads catching under the dim lights, a dark blue flannel with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, the top buttons undone to expose dark hair peeking out from his muscular chest, his black watch glinting every time he turns his wrist. He’s just so good looking that he makes it really hard to concentrate on anything else. 

   You fold your arms on the table and gaze into honeysuckle eyes. “Usually just a strawberry shake kind of girl, if we’re talking classics.”

   He gives you a small smile, but before he can say anything else, the blonde waitress comes up to the table. “Well, what do we have here? Joel Miller bringing a girl to the diner? My, thought I’d never see the day,” she laughs as she sets two waters down on the table.

   Joel’s face reddens as he rakes a hand slowly down his greying scruff. “Guess I jus’ had to find the right one first,” he smiles, flicking his eyes over you as your breath catches in your throat. 

   He’s never brought a girl to his favorite restaurant before? You were… the first one? Oh.

   “I see,” she says as she takes a minute to trail her eyes over you. You see her mouthing ‘she’s pretty’ to Joel, and now it’s your turn to blush as Joel nods his head and lays his eyes over you again. “Well, what’ll it be? Your usual?” she asks, taking out a little notepad and a black ink pen to write with.

   “The usual for me. What do you want, sweetheart?” he asks, and you swear you see Sienna cup her mouth and giggle into it when he calls you sweetheart. 

   “Can I get the grilled cheese with French fries, and a strawberry shake?” you ask nicely as you hand her back the menu.

   “Sure can. Can I get you anything else?” she asks as she twirls the pen around her freshly manicured fingers.

   “Oh, can I also get a side of ranch?”

   “No problem. I’ll get that order in, and I’ll be right back with your shakes. Let me know if you need anything else.” She flips her blonde ponytail and flashes Joel a bright smile as she walks off toward the back.

   “Ranch dressin’, huh?” he chuckles, shifting his weight in his seat.

   “Only the best dipping sauce in the world,” you confirm with your head held high.

   He laughs and gives you a smile. “Haven’t tried that before. Guess I’ll have to tonight,” he beams.

   “Guess you will,” you say with a raised brow.

   You take a generous sip of water and swish the bendy straw around nervously, looking up from under your dark lashes as you take a deep breath. “So, first girl you’ve brought here?” you ask with your brows raised in question.

   He taps his index finger on the edge of the table and nods. “Besides Sarah, yeah. First girl.” Your eyes lock for a few seconds, and you feel your heart skip a beat at the intention that burns in his dark brown irises.

   The questions slur through your mind. Is this an actual date? Does this incredibly handsome man really like you? Is he wanting… more? Do you want more? 

   The tension gets interrupted as Sienna comes back and hands you your milkshakes. “Here ya go! Food should be out soon, sugar. Be back in a few.” She whisks away and leaves you two alone again. 

   You pull your eyes off Joel and slip a straw into your strawberry shake, mixing it around until your nerves dissolve into the liquid. “So, read anymore Fourth Wing?” you ask after taking a sip of your shake.

   Joel wipes his mouth with a napkin and dips his silver spoon into his chocolate shake. “Actually, quite a bit. Made it to chapter twenty-two.”

   You lift your eyebrows in surprise and smile. “Oh? And?”

   He drops the spoon from his mouth and spins it around his chocolate shake meticulously. “Pretty good. Dain’s kind of an asshole, but Violet’s kinda badass. And the dragons, the fighting? Not bad, angel. Can see why you like it.”

   You giggle and take another sip of the strawberry goodness, letting it slide down your throat as you feel it close up the moment his brown eyes flick back toward yours. “It is really good, just wait till you start the second book.”

   “The second book? Already think I’m gonna read the second book?” He smirks, one eyebrow stretched up as he licks his bottom lip clean of chocolate. The sight makes you weak in the knees. 

   “Figured you’d read it for me,” you whisper just loud enough for his mouth to drag up in a full on grin.

   “Well, when you put it that way, ‘course I will. I’d read anything you put in my hands,” he smiles. His knee brushes against yours, and your heart hammers in your chest as you engulf yourself in the smell of him, in his gorgeous brown eyes. Even from the wafts of burgers and fries, you can still smell that woodsy cologne floating around your senses. And you want to drown in the very essence of him.

   You bat your eyelashes at him and smile. “In that case, I’ll make you a list,” you giggle.

   “I’m holdin’ ya to it, angel,” he chuckles as he takes another generous sip from his chocolate shake.

   The music switches over to an old Beatles song, and after you stir the spoon around your shake, you decide to bring up Sarah again. “So, Sarah. She like this place as much as you?”

   Joel chuckles and shakes his head. “Nah, not as much as I do, but she does like it. Brought her here all the time when she was a kid.”

   You smile at that, thinking of Joel helping her up on one of the barstools, him laughing as he joked with his daughter, his warm smile gleaming in the sunlight as he took her on different adventures and did fatherly things like take her to the park, to the dinosaur museum, maybe even played Barbies with her. You giggle at the image of that. He must’ve been such a good father, you can see it in the way his eyes glisten and crinkle when he talks so fondly about her.

   Suddenly, you get the sudden urge to ask about her mother, wondering where she fit into all this. Surely she’s still around, maybe closer to Joel than you think. You work up the courage to ask as you stir the spoon mindlessly in your strawberry shake. “Hey Joel, can I ask you something?”

   “Anything,” he says automatically as his brown eyes lift up to yours.

   You gulp down your nerves and let them roll off your tongue. “Where’s Sarah’s mom?”

   Joel’s eyes widen at the question, and you automatically feel guilty for even bringing it up. He pushes back some tousled curls and sighs, wetting his bottom lip as his eyebrows crease tightly together. “She left us when Sarah was jus’ a baby. Jus’ up and left with no more than a folded note. Haven’t seen or heard from her since.”    

   Your mouth gapes open in shock, and his eyes gloss over with a hint of sadness as his fingers turn into a tight fist. You definitely struck a very sore topic, and you hate yourself for even asking now. “Oh my god, Joel. I’m so very sorry,” you reply shakily as you let your spoon drop with a plop into the glass cup.

   He shakes his head and sighs. “Don’t gotta apologize, sweetheart. ‘S not your fault. Besides, we made it jus’ fine without her. Didn’t even need her.” Again, you see the prickle of a held back tear, and you wish you could just brush away that part of the past for him.

   “Well, if it’s worth any consolation, I think you did a really good job. I mean, look at her. Studying to be an architect, traveling around the world? I’d say she took after her smart daddy,” you smirk. That sends a warm smile spreading wide over his mouth, and you can’t help but blush as his eyes flick to yours. 

   “Smart daddy, huh? That what I am?” He chuckles as he keeps his eyes locked on yours.

   You shrug and giggle. “I’d say so.” That makes a deep chuckle fall from his lips as he clasps his hands together on the table, rubbing against your outstretched hand.

   You catch your breath and meet his eyes again, nervously brushing your knee against his. “It’s her loss. She missed out on a great guy, didn’t know what she was missing, apparently.” His eyebrows draw together, and his eyes dim with a hint of a glimmer as a small smile curls around his mouth. He looks like he wants to say something with the way he’s looking at you all gentle and prideful, but you’re quickly interrupted as Sienna brings the food to the table.

   “Here you two go! Plates are a little hot, so be careful.” She lays the glass plates in front of the two of you with a curt nod and a playful wink as she turns to leave you alone again.

   You pick up a hot fry and dip it in the creamy ranch, scooting it over in Joel’s direction as you bite into warm goodness. “Go on, try it,” you giggle as he hesitantly dips his own fry into the white sauce, carefully bringing it to his plush lips. He takes a bite, and a surprising look glazes over his face.

   After a few seconds he gives you a small smile and goes back for another one. “Not bad, angel. Not bad at all.” You acknowledge it as a compliment and dig into your grilled cheese, knowing you just metaphorically saved a life by showing the powers of what ranch dressing can do.

   “Told you,” you laugh, taking a large bite out of the extra cheesy grilled cheese.

   “Mmm, sure did. Gotta start listenin’ to your suggestions more often,” he winks. You just push back a piece of loose hair and smile.

   The next half hour is spent delving into your food and flirting back and forth, brushing knees against one another, blushing and smiling probably more than you ever have in your entire life, and it’s all because of this man, this incredibly ridiculous hot, sweet man. How did you ever end up in a diner talking about life with Joel Miller? 

   Minutes go by, maybe hours. You don’t really keep track anymore. “You were in a band?” you laugh incredulously as you look at his gleaming eyes. 

   “Sure was. Played the lead guitar. Didn’t last long, but it was fun while it lasted.” He sits back in the booth and spreads his legs wide, like this is the most casual conversation ever and he’s actually enjoying himself. 

   “Do you still play?” you ask with hope glittering in your eyes.

   “Sure do. You ever tried?” His eyebrow raises with curiosity written all over those dark brown irises.

   You shake your head at that. “No, always wanted to try, just never got around to it.”

   He taps his index finger on the edge of the table, and a small smile curls around that beautiful mouth. “You wanna learn?” He threads his eyebrows together and leans forward, like he’s reaching for a certain answer.

   You bat your eyelashes up at him nervously and ask quietly. “Are you offering to teach me?”

   He shrugs his broad shoulders and nods. “If you wanna learn then absolutely. Not like I haven’t taught you a thing or two before.” He winks and the giant smirk makes you choke on your water because you know exactly what he’s talking about, and it’s not just guitar strings but something else he’s shown you with those thick, calloused fingers. 

   Heat floods your cheeks as you look into those smoldering coffee irises. The more you stare at him, the more you want to reach across the table and melt into his glowing soul. “Okay,” you say dreamily, resting your knuckles casually under your chin as you lean against the table and stare absentmindedly at the man with the pretty brown eyes. 

   “Is that a yes?” He pines, trying to wind his thick fingers around your skull as he searches for an answer that’s right on the tip of your bashful tongue. 

   “Like… at your club?” 

   He chuckles and shakes his head no. “No, sweetheart. At my house.”

   His house. You don’t know why, but the mention of that has something that feels a lot like bile rising in your throat. His house. That’s different than meeting at the club, even different than this. And suddenly, you realize just what this is, how much more it feels than just sleeping together. This is a date, and that makes your stomach clench in a tight knot at the very thought of what comes next. 

   When you don’t answer, he reaches over and lays a big hand on top of yours, his thumb sliding along the inside of your wrist as your vision tunnels. Oh god, what is he about to ask? 

   “I’ve been thinking…” He blinks a couple times and drops those beautiful brown eyes on you, giving you that million dollar smile that makes you weak at the knees. He sighs as he strokes his fingertips over your clammy skin. “What are we doin’ here, angel?”  

   Your heart halts, and for a second you can’t even breathe, nonetheless speak like a normal human being. “What do you mean?” The words are barely a whisper as they ghost through your lips, your hand tightening against the tabletop.

   You know exactly what he means, you’re just too scared to hear those words come out of his mouth.

   He slides a hand through his greying scruff and stifles a deep laugh, and then his eyes are piercing through yours like the morning sunrise on a rainy day. “I mean… us.”

   “Us?” Your voice is full on shaking, and your breathing is anything but normal now. 

   He lets out a sigh that sounds a little like frustration, but he doesn’t let his smile and warm eyes falter. “Yeah, us. Me and you, angel. What are we doin’?” 

   “I… uhhh… we…” Your words are nonexistent, only a form of mumbling and jumbled sounds spilling from your mouth. Joel’s gaze flinches as he waits, his fingertips becoming shaky and dismantled as his jaw ticks. And fuck why can’t you say the words? That you do want him. You want this, you just want everything from this incredible man, but fear stops you. And then the next words that fall from your lips completely ruin you.

   You press your knees together and bite your nails into the flesh of your thigh, grinding the words you don’t want to say out like nails clawing down chalkboards. “I mean… we’re just having fun, right?” His jaw immediately drops.

   Shit. You’ve just ruined everything.

   He pulls back from you, dropping his hand onto his side of the table, and he looks completely wrecked. You see the light in his brown eyes die as he clenches his jaw into a tight fist and runs his hand unruly through his tousled curls. 

   Shit shit shit.

   “Jus’ havin’ fun? Is that all we’re doin’?” His voice sounds garbled like he’s drowning under a faucet, and you start to tremble in place. 

   Say something, anything to take back what you said. For the love of god, reach for him! But you don’t move, your hand doesn’t even twitch, even though all you want to do is reach for that hand, his arms, his heart. Fuck. But you don’t move. You don’t do a damn thing but freeze.

   “I — uhhh… mhm.” You can’t even look at him when you say it because there’s shame written all over your pathetic face, and you really don’t want to look into those disappointed eyes that are reddening with held back tears. 

   “That right? This right here is all jus’… fun.” His voice is smothered in disappointment, and you swear you hear him mention something about how it was all some game, and that fucking breaks you. This isn’t a game to you, but you can’t seem to make your voice work. 

   He stares at you, his eyes darkening as a deep scowl forms on his lips. He’s waiting for an answer, but you just can’t do anything to make this better. So you mutter words you don’t mean out. “I… I don’t know.” The look of instant regret threads his face, and he looks like he just found out his dog got run over with the speckles of tears that push through his tormented eyes. And now, you can’t even look at him.

   You’re such a fucking coward. 

   And just to make it worse, the fucking waitress interrupts. “You two lovebirds want some pie?” she asks sweetly. The question makes you sick.

   “Nah, think we’re done here. Jus’ bring me the check.” The sounds from his heavy words hit you like a car crash, and you feel regret caving hard in your clenched gut for what you’ve just done.

   You dare to take a peek up from under your long lashes, but you regret it the moment you see that weathered stare, that stone-like face that tells you enough. He’s just as devastated as you. Because he thought this was more, and it should be more. But you’re just a girl with a fucked up past who just can’t seem to let go, so you ruin everything you touch. 

   You’re nothing but a disappointment. 

   You flick your gaze down to your curled fingers that almost tear through your soft pink dress. This was a special dress, one you thought Joel would like, one you were so excited to wear because his eyes lit up the moment he saw you in it. And now? Now you just feel like Cinderella when her stepsisters tore her favorite, special dress to shreds. You’re nothing but fire ashes that burnt out long ago.

   Sienna comes back, and Joel leaves her a fifty dollar bill, not bothering to wait for any change. He doesn’t even say your name when he gets up, he just stands at the door silently and waits for you to follow without even one lingering gaze. You feel just like a lost puppy who lost their favorite owner, and you swear you die right on the spot when you brush up against him and feel him pull back, like you’ve just burned him. 

   But you did burn him. You scorched him alive. 

   The truck ride back to your apartment is soundless, the only noise is the faint hum of the engine as the tires drive along the dark road. His music is even muted. Every time you look over he’s either pinching the bridge of his nose, raking a hand heavily through his beard with concern etched painfully in his eyes, or running his fingers roughly through his now disheveled hair. He looks like he’s just been through hell. You did that, you fucking did that. Goddamn it! 

   You lick your bottom lip nervously, feeling your fingers start to rip through the bottom of your dress. You’re clawing your legs so fiercely that you’re about to lose your fucking mind because you can’t say what you really want to say. So you just stay silent; you just don’t have the energy to do anything else at this point.

   When he finally pulls up to your door after that painful ride, he puts the truck in park and keeps one hand clenched tight around the leather steering wheel, only facing forward as his lips form a tight line.

   You slowly unbuckle your seatbelt and look at him with swimming eyes, your vision starting to blur as you compose your shaky breath. “I uhh… I had a nice time tonight, Joel. Thank you for dinner.” 

   His knuckles squeeze the steering wheel tighter, and he barely even looks over at you as he fights to make words tear out of his mouth. “It was no trouble.” No ‘you’re welcome’ or ‘I had a nice time too, angel’. And that makes you want to die.

   You curl your fingers around the door handle and pry it open with a shaky hand, but before you slip out you say one more thing that you think will save this whole messed up situation. “Maybe… maybe you could give me that guitar lesson?”

   He gulps down a breath and ticks his jaw, his face looking straight forward so he doesn’t have to look you in the eyes. “I… I’ll see you around.”

   It’s over. 

   Your face drops like your heart does in your chest, and you mindlessly step out and let the door close behind you. He pulls out instantly and leaves you standing there alone, tears streaming down your face as you watch the headlights disappear like they were never there in the first place.

   You stay frozen in that spot, letting the chill of the night breeze past your bare arms, your eyes bloodshot and wide as you replay the end of the dinner, the part where you fucked it all up.

   Your fault, your fault, your fault. And suddenly, you feel as if you just ruined your entire life. 

   You drag yourself into the apartment, not even bothering to turn on the lights as you slide beneath your cool sheets and shed the tears you held in the past half hour. You let them fall until you can’t breathe, until you can’t think about anything but those sad doe eyes. And that’s the last thing you remember until sleep drags you under. And then there’s just darkness and nothing else but your own stupid mistakes playing through an endless nightmare.

   He moves in a fog the next week, his body lethargic and numb as he pushes past blocks of bodies, the echoing music drowning through his ears as he goes through repeated motions he can barely tolerate. 

   He spends the evenings in the club tucked away in his office where no one can touch him, where he’s not reminded of your beautiful eyes or your dimpled smile. His hand clenches around the whiskey glass as cold droplets collect where his lips meet the edge of the cup, slow sips drinking in the relaxing sting that numbs his buzzing body.

   You were supposed to be his, but instead you’re just a ghost that materializes in his memory every fucking moment of every gut wrenching day.

   He lets the sting soothe him as he taps his thumb mindlessly against the glass, staring at endless paperwork that keeps piling like someone else will do it. But he lets it sit and sit until the words start to blur on the page, until he’s completely numb from the traces of your last words you ever said to him.

   Maybe you could give me that guitar lesson… 

   And he just fucking drove off and left you all alone without so much as one word to soothe you over. He’s a fucking asshole, but what could he say? You don’t want him like he so desperately wants you. But he really thought you did… he was fucking wrong.

   He flips his phone back and forth in his palm, lighting up the screen just long enough to stare at your name and the message button that seems to burn through his eyes. He sighs and lets the phone fall to the desk, turning it face down so he can’t see your name as the pain sets like fire in his chest. 

   He groans, fisting his disheveled curls through his fingers as he leans his elbows against the covered desk, quietly cursing as he fights to grab his phone and hit the call button. But then he remembers that you don’t want him. Not like he wants you.

   He lets out a growl, numbing his mind a little more with the poison he feeds himself, letting lies run rampant through his mind as he fights to see where he went wrong. He thought you wanted him, wanted more. Where the fuck did he go wrong?

   He’s so deep in his racing thoughts that he barely hears the door handle jiggle, almost missing his brother that slips in out of the blaring noise of the club.

   “Uhh, Joel? You alright there, brother? You’re not lookin’ so hot,” Tommy says slowly as he paces cautiously up to the edge of the mahogany desk. 

   “I’m fine,” he bites out, a little too harsh as his clipped tone makes Tommy’s mouth tighten.

   “If you say so.” He threads his fingers through his greasy black hair that’s slicked back with gel and nods at the messy pile. “You a little behind on paperwork?”

   Joel scowls as he clenches his jaw. “I’ll get to it. Jus’ had some other shit come up.” He’s not meaning to come off angry, but that’s what he is. Angry, hurt, shocked, torn apart. Fuck. One girl and his entire world goes to shit.

   “You need some help with it?” He nods to the pile again and crosses his arms over his button-up long sleeved black shirt. 

   “No, I think I can handle it.” But can he really handle it? Not at all.

   “Oh okay…” He presses into the back of his leather cowboy boots and shifts his weight uncomfortably. “Well, the boys are here waitin’.”

   Joel’s eyes fall as he realizes today is Thursday. The day carved out to play pool with his friends. “Shit, I totally forgot,” he groans, pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes as if he can get rid of the pounding headache that’s taking over his body.

   “You never forget. Joel, are you sure you’re okay?” Tommy’s dark eyebrows are furrowed together as his wide brown eyes edge with concern. 

   “I’m… I’m fine, Tommy,” he answers defeatedly as he lies through his teeth. 

   Tommy sees right through him, and it doesn’t take him long to realize just why he’s so fucked up in the head right now. “Hey, I haven’t seen that girl around lately. You know, the really pretty, sweet one? The one whose eyes light up when she’s near you.”

   Joel sighs and closes his eyes for a breath of a second, his stomach dropping to the floor as he sucks in a painful breath. “She… no. Haven’t talked to her lately, Tommy.”

   “Oh.” Joel hears the disappointment clearly in his tone, and he really doesn't want to explain just why he hasn’t talked to you. It’s too… painful. “You wanna talk about it?”

   “No. Jus’ drop it.” His voice comes out clipped, and he has no strength to even apologize for being so short with Tommy. 

   “Alright, alright. I won’t ask.” He raises his hands in defeat and knocks on the edge of the desk. “You wanna come play pool? Maybe have another drink?”

   Joel shakes his head no and sighs deeply. “Not tonight, Tommy. Maybe next week.”

   Tommy decides to leave it at that, promising to tell the boys he’ll try his best to make it next week. Joel doesn’t say a word, just lets Tommy believe he’ll be feeling better by then, but he knows he won’t. He’ll still be this. 

   Before Tommy leaves, he peeks his head over his shoulder and tries to comfort Joel the best he knows how. “Hey, if you ever wanna talk, my door is always open. Whenever, night or day. I’m here for you.” Joel just nods and lets his brother fade through the door, closing it as silence takes over his lonely office again.

   He pulls his phone out again, flipping through his contacts until he sees your name scrawled on the screen, except in your place is the word Angel with a little halo emoji right next to it. He suddenly breaks, fingers clenching the edges of the phone so tight that it falls to the floor, making your name disappear from his line of sight as his phone goes dead.

   Angry, hot tears brim over his eyeline, and then he’s losing all self control as the bitter taste of regret sinks in. He stands up and pushes the overwhelming pile of paperwork to the floor, throwing the whiskey glass at the wall as glass shatters and liquid falls down the black wallpaper. He sends the lamp over the edge next, hearing it crack as his heart breaks just like the pieces of broken glass that litters against the polished floors.

   He screams bloody murder as the feeling of pain overwhelms his insides, but the bumping music outside of the room mutes his cries. He topples in the chair, almost gouging his eyes out as his palms press firmly into his eyes, letting the hot tears roll down his sunken face.

   He can’t do this. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever. He didn’t plan on falling for you, but he fell harder than he’s ever fallen. And goddamn it, he never meant to fall in love with you, but he did and look where that left him. 

   Alone and heartbroken.

   But that’s what happens in continuous hookups where lines are blurred and no boundaries get set. People end up hurt or attached or fall hopelessly in love. And he did, all of those. But he never thought it could ever hurt this bad.

   All he wanted since the moment he met you was you. And now, you were just the dark silhouette sitting in the corner of his office. A ghost that never should’ve faded away. But look at you now, just gone, like your deep red lips he never even got to kiss, but god, he wishes he would’ve gotten to taste those sweet lips that probably taste like honey. He’ll regret it until the day he dies.

   He should’ve fucking known better than to let it go this far, but it did. And now? He’s lost you for good.

  Two weeks go by and you hear nothing from Joel. You send a couple of texts, each very short. You talk yourself out of it, but you at least need to try. The only kind of response you get is the texting bubbles that shortly disappear after leaving you on read.

   You walk around in a daze, everything foggy and blurry as you fight to even keep upright most days. You fucked up the best thing that’s ever happened to you all because you were scared to be hurt again. But where did that get you? It just left you devastated and more hurt than you could’ve possibly imagined. 

   You lose sleep, can barely tolerate the blinding sunlight that reminds you of that damn smile that you probably won’t get to ever see again. You should’ve kissed him, should’ve told him how you felt, should’ve told him about your past you really didn’t want to bring up again, but you were so fucking broken that you couldn’t manage to do any one of those things. 

   What would your therapist say to all of this? She’d probably scold you and shove more medications at you that you refuse to take. But what’s worse? Not feeling anything or reliving this insufferable pain day after day all because you couldn’t make your words or actions work.

   Jesus, you’re a real piece of work. Joel was lucky he got out when he did. You’re such a fucking mess, but you’re an even bigger mess without him.

   You stare at the text thread between you and Joel, mindlessly looking for any life behind that screen, reaching for just an ounce of reassurance that he isn’t really gone, but you get none. He’s gone. 

   The unanswered texts start to blur as tears fill your eyes, and then the panic sets in. The inevitable fear of abandonment and loss hits you like a blinding lightning strike, and then the anxious thoughts and debilitating emotional turmoil takes a hit. Joel isn’t coming back for you.

   You click Brianna’s number so fast that you drop your phone and pick it up frantically, fumbling with the flimsy case until you have enough of a hold on it that you start to hyperventilate.

   Pick up, pick up, pick up.

   Just when you think she’ll let it go to voicemail, she answers with a giddy ring to her voice. “Hey, stranger! You’ve been quiet lately. What’s up? You wanna go out tonight?”

   “Bri, I fucked up. I fucked everything up!” Your voice cracks, and the tears start to fall like raindrops down your skin. You can barely hold the phone to your ear because your hand is shaking so badly.

   “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down there. Breathe. What happened?”

   “He… Joel… I…” You can’t even form a coherent sentence because you’re stumbling over your own racing thoughts, and your breathing is almost nonexistent. You’re just a shuddering mess.

   “Hey, calm down. Babe, can you tell me what happened?” Her voice is patient, but you know she’s freaking out on the end of the line because you hear her car keys jingle in her hand. 

   “I… fuck, Bri. I blew it. He left… the questions… I couldn’t…”

   “Listen to me. Do you need me to come over?”

   “No, I’m… fine.” But you’re not fine, you’re far from it.

   “You’re not fucking fine. Did that asshole hurt you?”

   “No, just… no…”

   “Fuck it, I’m coming over. Be over in ten minutes.” The phone line goes dead, and all you hear is silence as you hold the phone to your ear, waiting for nothing as you freeze and collapse.

   You fall into the velvet couch and bring your knees to your chest, covering your eyes as you let the tears soak the material of your yoga pants, clinging to a reality that you just don’t want to deal with now. You don’t want to think about Joel, don’t want to think about how you haven’t heard from him in two weeks, don’t want to think about how fucking badly you want his strong arms around you, and you definitely don’t want to think about how you just ruined the one chance you had to keep the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

   You sink into the crevice of the couch, squeezing your eyes closed as tears ricochet down your eyelashes. You faintly hear the rain drizzle from your kitchen window, tapping against the glass like it hears your swallowed cries filling the empty room. It’s just you, the flickering vanilla candle, and your muted cries that fill the staggering silence of your space.

   And just when you think you’ve felt the worst, the grief consumes you as those sad brown eyes flicker in your spotty mind. A ghost of the past that haunts your every waking thoughts, and it just reminds you how wrong you went.

   Your fault, your fault, your fault.

   You’re so busy replaying the scenes from dinner that you barely hear the door being opened. You don’t even notice anyone’s here until Brianna is kneeling down in front of the couch, carefully pulling your knees down so she can look into your red-rimmed eyes. 

   She places a hand gently on your knee, giving you those sad brown eyes that remind you a whole lot like how Joel looked after you ruined it all. Another tear drips down your cheek, and then she’s soothingly pressing her palm against your thigh. 

   “Hey, I’m here now.” Her voice is dulcet, and her familiar cotton candy perfume calms you down just like her soothing voice always does when you’re having a breakdown. And in these moments you’re just so lucky to have a friend like her that’ll drop everything just to make sure you’re okay.

   “Hi.” Your voice cracks, and you hear a quiet sigh that sounds a lot like genuine sympathy for you. 

   “You wanna talk about it?” She asks in a somber tone, one that’s not pulling for information, just someone that wants to let you decide what you’re comfortable with talking about.

   You slowly nod your head as another tear falls from your tainted face. “When Joel took me out for dinner, he asked what we were, what we were doing. And I… I fucked up. I told him we were just having fun, that none of this was serious. And then… then…” You clench your jaw and fist your fingers into the sunken couch, trying to catch your breath to finish, but Brianna cuts in.

   “Oh, babe. No.” Her blonde curls fall into her gentle face, and her light brown eyes glimmer with sympathy as she realizes why you were so worked up over the phone.

   Your face falls, and you fight to get the rest of the words out through your gritted teeth. “You should’ve seen how wrecked he looked when I answered, Bri. It was… I never thought looking into a man’s eyes would break me, but that did. He looked so sad…” Your fumbled words deceive you as you break into a sob, Brianna quickly brushing a tear away as she meets your deep red eyes.

   “I’m so sorry, babe. Have you… has he talked to you since?” She asks hesitantly.

   You shake your head and let your gaze drop to the carpeted floor. “No. I tried texting him a couple times, but he just left me on read…”

   The room grows silent for a minute as Brianna’s brown eyes gaze up at you, her golden locks shining in the glimmer of the faint light from the dark fluffy clouds outside. She takes a beat to figure out what she wants to say and when she does, it’s like a soft hug that folds across your entire body. “I think… I think he might be hurting just as bad as you right now. And maybe, just maybe he needed a little space to sort out his feelings? Because from the sounds of it, I think he wanted it to be more. I think he likes you a lot.”

   You purse your lips and flick your eyes back to her, trying to shift through her words as they ring bells in your mind. “You really think he wanted more?”

   She nods her head and places a warm palm over your shaky fingers. “I know he did.” 

   Those words just make you shake and start to sob all over as you let messy words spill from your parted lips. “Bri, I wanted to tell him so badly how I felt. How I wanted it to be more, how he’s literally the best thing that’s ever happened to me. That he… makes me feel safe and wanted.”

   “Oh, babe,” she sighs sympathetically. “Look, you’ve been through some of the roughest shit I’ve ever seen, but you know what? You’re the strongest, most empathetic, sweetest friend I’ve ever met in my entire existence. And he’d be so lucky to have you.”

   “But he doesn’t want me anymore!” Your voice tethers through the room like a broken record, and you fight to stay composed.

   “You sure about that?” She cocks her head and gives you that look that says you’re absolutely wrong.

   “He won’t talk to me, Bri. And the way he left… well… it sounded like he was saying goodbye.” You hold your breath and wait for the backlash she’s about to give you, but it never comes. There’s only soft words that numb your heavy brain.

   “Hey. Let me ask you this, do you want to be with him?”

   “Bri…”

   “Just answer me, okay? Do you want him?” She emphasizes the word want, and her doe eyes glaze up at you with pure softness.

   You gulp and let the word fall dry. “Yes.”

   “Then you’re going to get him back,” she smiles, her glittery pink lips curling into warmth.

   “What?” Your eyes blow wide, and your hands fall straight to your sides.

   “Tomorrow you’re going to walk into that club, and you’re going to tell him exactly how you feel,” she said adamantly.

   “No, Bri. I can’t. I…”

   She holds up a palm and nods. “You can, babe. I know how much you like him; I can tell by the glow in your eyes every time you talk about him, and your smile? I haven’t seen you that happy in a few years. You’re positively radiant, just like you should be.”

   You sigh and shake your head distraughtly. “I was happy until I went and fucked it all up,” you mumble under your breath.

   She dips her fingers under your chin and pulls your eyes up to meet hers. “He’d be foolish not to listen to you and take you back, babe. Just trust me on this, okay? He still wants you. I know he does.”

   “How do you know?” You mutter out with pursed lips.

   “I just have this feeling, okay? You can do this, you will do this. I know you can.” Her smooth voice is so confident in you that you almost believe her. Maybe you can do this, but you have a feeling you’ll just fall and get left behind again.

   You curl your lips into a small smile and wipe the last of the tears away with the back of your hand. “Thanks for making me feel a little better, Bri. You’re a really great friend.” You give her hand a tight squeeze and show her just how much she means to you.

   She scoffs and flips her golden hair behind her shoulder. “Oh, don’t you get all sappy on me. Come on. I’m taking you to get ice cream.” She tugs you off the couch and drags you through the front door, not even bothering to let you grab your card. “This one’s on me, babe. Let’s forget about men and go soak in some sugary goodness tonight.”

   “Sounds good to me,” you smile as she leads you down the winding sidewalk. 

   Maybe she’s right, maybe you can do this, after all. But the fear grabs a hold of your throat and holds back any faith you have in yourself. You’re going to fucking choke and ruin it all again. But you have to try because living without him isn’t something you even want to think about.    

You don’t want to be without him because you’re pretty sure you’re in love with him.